Isla Mujares, about 1978-nothing there but some fishing shacks and tree trunks stuck in the sand to tie up too. We were bringing the boat home from fishing the Club Nautico Tounament and stopped to fuel before making the 68 hour crossing to South Pass Lousyana. At any rate, we brought some dolphin to this little 3 table cafe, and they cooked it for us.
Young dumb and full of Rum, I go macho, and ask for "salsa, mucho caliente". Our local guide(a wharf rat to translate, basically), discusses the issue with the mamacita in the kitchen. The waiter/owner/dishwasher/papacita brings out a little dish, maybe 2 tablespoons of salsa. "Mucho Caliente, senor", he says with a bit of a bow, and no visible smirk.
I dip my saltine in and get a healthy scoop, fully half of the salsa. Good flavor, deep, rich and smoky, and I give a thumbs up to the Mamacita, leaning over the counter. She DOES have a visible smirk, and about then, the salsa detonates. Now I drank bottles of tabasco in one swig for a party trick(and money) in college, and still eat a couple dozen Japs and a bottle or 2 of hot sauce a week, but this stuff absolutely made me choke. Breathing was a memory, and I tear up and break sweat like a shaker in the throes.
The patrone is laughing so hard HE is crying, and our guide is literally rolling on the floor. "Mucho Caliente!, Mucho Caliente!", and it is so hot I am close to throwing up. I finished the rest of the salsa, and about a half of box of saltines.
I lived, but my taste buds were literally burnt off for week or so, I couldn't taste chit.
"Pinche Gringo es loco", they said, and charged us nothing for the meal, though we tipped them about twice what it would have cost.
