Chicken and chilli is a match made in heaven – even when it brings tears to your eyes After Christmas last year, tired of soft-edged fare (bread sauce, turkey and stuffing), I booked a table at a Sri Lankan restaurant.
I wanted a jolt to my taste buds, the clarity of sharp limes and tongue-burning chilli. The next day I sat in the restaurant with tears running down my face.
It was like being the only person in the cinema to shriek when the dead guy opens his eyes and sits bolt upright. The food was hot.
Water didn’t help. Eventually I asked – begged – a waiter for a bowl of yogurt. ‘Just stop eating the food!’ my dining companion cried.