I could smell the jalapeno even before I noted the seeds.  And it was hot. Ish.  Hot-ish.

Apparently, though, I'm supposed to wait for our lovely lady of the salsa to make one with her homegrown habaneros.  Now that's hot.

Frankly, I prefer my salsa hot.  If I can taste the tomato, there's something wrong.  This wasn't always so (although I've always hated tomatoes).  I think it comes from spending too much time with guys who are in a race to see who can burn out their tastebuds first, so I've acclimated.

I still refuse to eat jalapenos as is, though.

Unless, of course, they're mixed in cream cheese.