The Adventurous Couple Version Tacos Part 9b
I looked at the blue door receding in the side mirror. “Then we were wrong.”
“9.7,” they said.
Then the heat arrived. The Morita chile, having been mezcal-baptized, did not attack. It announced itself. A slow, rolling heat that started at the back of the throat and spread outward like a gentle wildfire. The chapulín powder added a nutty, savory umami that made the whole thing taste like it had been dug up from a delicious grave. The Adventurous Couple Version Tacos Part 9b