This week comedian Genevieve Mueller joins us to discuss happenings in the ABQ comedy scene and her interview with Josh Blue.
And calendars editor Mark Lopez hypes events, and we engage in a discussion of the merits of Albuquerque, N.M. vs. Corpus Christi, Texas.
The Chernin Group makes $500 million bid for Hulu.
Local pediatrician is dedicated to helping children who are victims of abuse.
In an effort to thwart scalpers, Kid Rock is scalping his own concert tickets.
The New Mexico Chile Advertising Act requires full disclosure on whether the chiles are “New Mexican” or not.
New Mexico treasure hunters beware! You have now been warned that finders may not be keepers.
Facebook to charge for messages sent outside of your network.
“Calvin and Hobbes” get gritty remake in new fan film.
As we all know, New Mexico has been a state for a full century as of this year. But that's not the only hundred year birthday we should be celebrating. In a coincidence that's altogether too perfect for our green chile obsessed region, 2012 also marks the 100th anniversary of the Scoville scale.
The Scoville scale, as anyone with a taste for the caliente should realize, is the more-or-less standardized method for determining how hot a chile pepper is. The scale ranges from 0 for a heatless bell pepper, to 16 million for pure capsaicin, the chemical compound that makes chile spicy. A good, hot New Mexico chile typically ranks somewhere between 3500 and 8000, while its degenerate offspring the Anaheim pepper is closer to 1,000. Law enforcement grade pepper spray registers at around 1.5 million.
Wilbur Scoville, a pharmacist, developed the scale in 1912 in order to ensure that the peppers used in a turn-of-the-century muscle salve called Heet were consistently spicy enough to take advantage of capsaicin’s topical pain relieving qualities (is there anything chile can’t do?). Appropriately enough, not only did Scoville develop the first standardized heat scale, he was also one of the first scientific chile tasters to note that the best way to cool down a fiery tongue is to reach for a glass of milk.
On a steep Nob Hill side street behind Imbibe is a tiny hole-in-the-wall kitchen, clad mostly in stainless steel. It’s called The Last Call, or TLC, and its proximity to Albuquerque’s nightlife weighs heavily on the short, funky menu. Read all about TLC’s signature dish in this week’s Food section.