Everyone has a different chilli threshold. Cooking curry at home helps you find yours, writes Hugo Arnold.
I've just finished eating a dish of chicken and peanuts. My lips are tingling, and I would be lying if I didn't admit that my forehead is clammy, damp even. But there is a curious, multi-layered sensation to eating the dish. Along with the chicken and peanuts there are dried chillies, and, despite picking out a lot of them, I still manage to eat a few.
Saying you're going out for a Chinese or a Thai meal, or an Indian for that matter, is about as informative as saying you've just bought a car. It doesn't really tell you much. It may have wheels, or require chopsticks, but after that . . . The chicken and peanut dish I've just described was eaten in the recently opened Bar Shu, a Sichuan restaurant in London's Soho. Sichuan food is famous for being fiery and spicy, and is said to have been toned down for western palates at Bar Shu. I thoroughly enjoyed what I ate, but did wonder what the full-heat version would have been like.
We have a curious relationship with chilli and spices. The line between tingling intrigue and "blow-your-head-off" is pretty fine. And it differs for each person. Not everyone likes it, but I have a friend whose kitchen table features a rather large bottle of chilli sauce, a condiment he engages with from breakfast to bedtime.
Spices are an elaborate form of seasoning. They are meant to enhance and work with the other ingredients in a dish; to complement rather than dominate. And the diner's taste is an important part of the equation. The Indian fondness for chilli is well known, but no Indian child starts off with a chilli in its mouth.
The home cook wins out when it comes to control. Wary of chillies? Then leave them out. Not so keen on coriander? Major on cumin instead. Worried about the fat content in your Thai curry? Swap soya milk for the coconut milk, and use less.
The ability of spicy food to entice the palate is often ruined by a heavy hand. Success lies in balance and attention to detail. Nowhere is this more evident than in the vegetarian cooking of India. What other cuisine can make vegetables taste so utterly fantastic: complex, substantial, full of character and flavour?