Word: hellings
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...that e-mail causes so much miscommunication, and yet it’s the backbone of communication here?” Benstein’s response: “what??? i don’t need this shit right now...Go to hell...
Welcome to Hell Night at the East Coast Grill, an event billed as, in what I’ve come to think of as the understatement of the year, an “over-the-top fiery food challenge.” Boston culinary legend Chris Schlesinger, owner of the East Coast Grill and winner of the 1996 James Beard Award for Best Chef in the Northeast, created Hell Night on a dare, when customers taunted him that his food “wasn’t really that hot.” Over the years it?...
...ordinary night, the East Coast Grill’s menu is not known for being staid. It offers interpretations of seafood and grilled meats, influenced by the pungent spicing of Asia and the Caribbean. But Hell Night is in an altogether different key. The menu is exclusively hot, from drinks to dessert, and each dish is rated on a scale of one to seven “bombs” (though you’d be hard-pressed to find anything under four...
...geared myself for the challenge of eating my way through the menu, skeptical that anything could puncture my bubble of imperviousness to heat. To prime my palate, I ordered a Cold Fusion Martini from Hell ($6), reported to have been “transported from MIT in a plutonium vacuum canister.” It looked innocuous enough, like a regular martini really, but, our waitress warned, the vodka had been infused with chili peppers. Lovely, I thought, as it barely warmed my mouth...
...open grill were an entirely different story. Pumped up by their testosterone-fueled reaction to open fire (hot! dangerous!), and buoyed by the fact that they were causing diners to cry in pain, they were a rowdy, and extremely cheerful, bunch. As I ordered the Infamous Pasta from Hell ($8.50) with habañero sausage and oil-pickled chili peppers, at seven bombs the hottest dish on the menu, they laughed in glee. “When you eat it,” cackled the chef closest to my table, “don’t blame...