The farmer called the chile sliced up in this bottle of Smirnoff a habañero, but it looked bigger and redder than the ones I usually see in the store. When I bought it, the old woman who sold it to me was surprised that I was taking ten chiles home with me. (The others were cayenne and Thai chiles.) They were ten cents each and I figured I would make it an even dollar, but she looked at me funny and said, "You like hot food," not so much a question as an insult. And she's the one growing these devil's candies! Whatever you call it, this is one nasty little vegetable. I infused for about two hours and the vodka now tastes like seven bottles of Tabasco poured into your eyes. Just what I was after.
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