One of the things I love about living in New York is the large variety of food available to us, from bacon-wrapped hotdogs to sliced bull penis. It also happens to be home to Phaal, the "spiciest curry in New York".
The Brick Lane Curry House in Manhattan holds a Phaal Challenge: anyone who can finish the Phaal gets a certificate and a beer, as well as their photo posted up on their website. As a big fan of spicy food, this challenge had a certain allure to me, like how a moth is drawn to fire. I was determined to give it a try.
On the afternoon of Saturday, May 23, I was able to round up a small group of friends to bear witness to my attempts to best the Phaal. As an added bonus, I would not be alone in my suffering since one of them was going to attempt to take on this fiery foe as well.
The Phaal is a deceving dish. It comes in a metallic bowl with a side of rice. At first glance, it looks like a medium sized bowl of red curry, not even all too big. After a taking sniff, it smells harmless. And then I take the first bite: it feels like liquified fire. I instantly break out into sweat and turn red. My friend and I realize this might be harder than we thought, and slowly dig into our curry, one painful bite at a time.
About the time my friend gave up, about 1/3 of the way through her Phaal, I had already started losing feeling in my face. It was as if my body was sick of the pain and decided to do something about it by not letting me feel anything. My breathing at this point had also become labored and anyone watching me could not say I looked well. The certificate would not escape me, and I continued with the challenge one spoon at a time. When I worked my way to the bottom of the bowl, I gathered each curry soaked grain of rice into one final spoon. I endured this one last bite to immortalize me on the Phaal of Fame! (If I ever remember to send them my picture)
I sighed a breath of relief and slumped into my chair. By that last bite, I my forearms and teeth were numb as well. The waiter shook my hand and filled up a glass with my free beer, but I was too full to finish. I took my certificate and put it into my bag with pride. Our friends took home the uneaten Phaal, which became a brown congealed mass of pepper seeds. What they don't tell you, though, is that the challenge does not end there. You will engage the Phaal once again, the battlefield this time is not at the table but rather in the bathroom. I'll leave you with that.
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