“This,” the waitress mentioned, stroking the glass jar at the desk as though it have been a cherished and threatening puppy. “It’s not gentle; it’s not medium. It’s scorching. Cross sluggish.”
I wanted she were there on my first consult with, once I fished a pepper out of the jar and ate it entire. Time stuttered. In such warmth, universes are born. Then, once I idea it was once over, the throb began in my ribs, fireplace engulfing every one.
“My mom carried scorching sauce in her handbag,” mentioned Chris Scott, the chef of Butterfunk Kitchen in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn. In her honor, he equips each and every desk with a fury of Scotch bonnets — the black mambas of chiles — roasted along milder smoked poblanos till the skins are just about ash, then left to rage in a pot all day with vinegar, garlic, sugar and cayenne. “So no person has to sneak in their very own,” he mentioned.
Mr. Scott opened Butterfunk Kitchen in April together with his spouse, Eugenie Woo. They’re by no means past due to paintings: They reside with their two kids upstairs, above the eating place and the distance they transformed from a laundromat to a restaurant, Brooklyn Commune, in 2010. Cafe and eating place percentage a kitchen, and at nightfall, when one is going darkish, the opposite begins to glow.
Circle of relatives pictures crowd the wall at Butterfunk Kitchen, together with portraits of Ms. Woo’s great-grandparents in South Korea and 7 generations on Mr. Scott’s aspect, from antebellum Virginia, the place his ancestors labored as slaves, to Pennsylvania Dutch nation, the place he grew up. He constructed his menu on reminiscences of his nana’s cooking, church picnics and community potlucks.
So listed below are deviled eggs, made wickeder through breading and deep-frying the whites, crunchy veneer giving method to wobble. The yolk mousse is piped top…