Fire chicken

A few days ago I went out to a Japanese ramen restaurant with my ex-wife and son.  I perused the menu looking for an interesting soup, but most of the soups seemed too bland.  Finally I noticed a soup called fire chicken and decided to try it.

When I ordered the soup the waitress asked me, “what level?” I hadn’t noticed levels but when I looked back at the menu, sure enough there were five levels – 2, 4, 6, 8, & 10. (I don’t know what happened to the odd numbers)

I didn’t want to be one of those wimpy Americans with a fear of spicy foods so I opted for a level six.  The waitress looked down at me and with a stern voice informed me, “Most people order level two.”  I downgraded to a 4.

When the soup arrived things did not bode well.  First of all, the broth was an unnatural shade of red; a shade not found in nature.  It was a bright crimson, like the color of Ohio State’s uniforms.

When I tried it my eyes immediately began gushing tears and I coughed as if I had just taken a puff of my first cigarette.  I broke out in dry heaves and my hair fell out in clumps.  But it actually tasted pretty good if you ignored the ancillary effects.

But this begs the question: What is a level 10 and who are the humans that can ingest it?

 

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