Janet was a firm believer in the Geir Lanesskog adage that "Food shouldn't hurt". Hot peppers and she kept their distance from each other. Occasionally, I'd sneak a itty bitty shot of tabasco sauce into a dish like Thai noodles, but even then I had to be cautious. If there was anything more than a slight "zip" to things, the whole kit and kaboodle got designated as hazardous waste.
I often served as food tester for packaged dishes like those Trader Joe's instant Indian packets. "Is it okay?" she'd ask, scrutinizing my face for any sign of chile reaction. "Um....I think so," I'd reply, swirling the food around in my mouth like a wine taster judging mouth feel. "I mean, okay for me," she'd elaborate. Any reach on my part for a glass of water, and she'd ask for macaroni and cheese instead.
That's not to say that she didn't like spicy food. Far from it. She and I shared a love for garlic. A clove apiece wasn't out of the question. None of this sprinkle of aged powder to give a subtlely stale background to the food. Janet liked her garlic up there in her face saying howdy. Or ciao, I suppose. One of our early culinary experiences in our marriage involved my discovery of a recipe for roast garlic ("recipe" is stretching it-- cut off top of head, drizzle with olive oil, roast). I think we downed at least two heads (not cloves, heads) apiece, with some bread to spread it on and nothing else for the evening.
Let's just say, the next day we had serious garlic hangover. You wouldn't have wanted to light a match in our apartment. But, as I had so many times before, I knew I'd married the right girl.
Janet also liked her share of pepper in things, which often brought on the Wonderland song from when Alice confronted the Duchess ("There's certainly too much pepper in that soup!"),
Speak roughly to your little boy,
And beat him when he sneezes:
He only does it to annoy,
Because he knows it teases.
Chorus: Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow!
You see, that's what the Duchess sang when she was putting too much pepper in the soup, so Janet would sing it when she had a dish with a lot of pepper because...eh, I suppose like so many marital in-jokes, it makes more sense to the participants.
But if I had to name Janet's favorite spice, it would be ginger. It's a wonder she didn't dye her hair red. She loved ginger in soup, ginger in food, ginger bread, ginger chews from the Asian market, and candied ginger. The last (pure ginger crystalized with sugar) was a taste she picked up when we were flying through Arizona. Janet always had a tetchy stomach (as she worded it), and afternoon turbulence wasn't being kind to her. This lady at the local FBO (wish I could remember where) plied Janet with ginger candies while I futzed about gawking at her husband's Smith Miniplane. I came back to a girl ready to pile in and zip across the desert. Later on when we were running our aerobatic ride/instruction outfit, Janet would keep a big canning jar of candied ginger for the tourists to gnaw on before she'd bung them into the plane. Really did work, and some years later I'd read that NASA had done a study and found that ginger was one of the few natural nausea remedies that was really effective against motion sickness.
The simultaneous love for ginger and dislike for hot peppers made for someone who loved Vindaloo-- without the peppers. Trust me, it's got plenty of other spices. And Janet was enough of a Red Dwarf fan to want to try Vindaloo. If you don't know the series, the reference is a bit obscure. But that's okay. As I said, we had our share of in-house references. "I thought a Tyrannosaurus would be hard!"
And lest I forget, her favorite tipple was ginger beer. The strong stuff, like Blenheim's, not the pretenders like Reeds. Janet wanted "ginger whisky", as she put it. Stuff that would make you sneeze and cough if you drank it too fast. She'd drink it straight up, no ice, thanks. When we lived in Clairmont, the local liquor store kept Cock and Bull in stock just for her.
It was no accident that our wedding mead was spiked with ginger.
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