picoso

Before I lived in Mexico, I did not like spicy food. I remember once describing spiciness as "annoying," in that instead of letting the more subtle flavors of the food come out and mingle together, it clamored for all the attention. You couldn't enjoy the other flavors and tastes.

Now, however, along with Mexican hands (the ability to flip over piping hot tortillas; comes by burning to insensitivity the tips of your fingers), I've got that Mexican ability to eat picante foods. Dare me to eat a jalepeño; no problem. I bet I could eat more spicy food than even my Dad. Well, maybe not; but I would definitely try.

It's not that I don't taste it - I can definitely tell something's really hot by the flavor and by the blush in my cheeks and the sweat starting to glisten. But I don't mind it. Nope; I like it.

But later, maybe half an hour later, when you can feel it in your stomach and you just want to lay on your couch like a whale - oh, I don't like that. Not very much at all.