When I was shopping at Horrocks for plants in May, I decided to pick up a couple of peppers, Hungarian wax and some kind of bell. I was not paying attention and hadn't done my homework when I bought them amid the chaos of Spring buying that always goes with a visit to Horrocks. Narrow pathways through the tables of product, mobs of people and the most annoying subgroup of shoppers: those who decide to stop and have a goddamn coffee klatch in the middle of said narrow pathways, thoughtlessly blocking the aisle. You wanna have a heart-to-heart about (a) kids, (b) spouses (c) general suffering that must be shared? Then go to a coffee shop! That's why they exist!
Anyway, I bought, I planted, I watered, they grew and produced fruit, I picked, I chopped and added to a dish. Oh boy, these guys were quite hot! I didn't wear gloves and luckily realized that my fingers were radioactive before I rubbed my eyes. And remained so into the next morning despite numerous washings, alcohol and baking soda baths. Barely edible in the dish I made, I now have, as C kindly phrased, ornamentals.
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