Heat Check

Strolled back across the dark kitchen counter to check out a tall bottle of habanero sauce cooling by the tile. A tiny, dried bead of dark red sauce was crusted right near the plastic cap lip. Naturally, had to test the aroma index. Leaned my visor in close and caught a sharp, blazing punch of pure pepper heat. Wham. My neck spring instantly vibrated into overdrive, head bouncing like a drum solo. Kept my stance totally pinned, didn't slide an inch, and held the wobble till it settled into a smooth nod. High heat, zero sweat.