There are some embarrassing photos in there. Yes, I wore a spike bracelet and red zebra print tank tops. I thought I was pretty badass.

Thanks to mutual friend Mindy Z. for the introduction! (and Danielle for the introduction to Mindy.)

CampusTweet.TV Episode 3: Dinner with Lingbo Li from lynne guey on Vimeo.

Related posts:

1. Lingbo eats bull balls: THE VIDEO.
2. I eat brains; there is a video.
3. An Offal Dinner Party – Project Food Blog Challenge 3

There are nine circles in Hell, and I am determined to make it to the last, torturous one.

I wade through the murk of the river Styx, then step over the cold, bloated bodies that populate the circle of Gluttony.

Finally, I make it to the Ninth Circle. The red finger paint on the window reads, “BEWARE: Eat at your own RISK.” Sinning souls jockey for space at the bar while yellow strips of caution tape flutter over above their heads. I pick up a menu which has subheadings like “Lucifer’s Liquid Coolers” (spicy cocktails) and “Entrees from Hell” (eclectic dishes with the zing of Cajun hot mustard or bird chile-lemongrass broth).

I’m in Cambridge’s Inman Square, home of East Coast Grill, who is setting their kitchen aflame for their 100th Hell Night (April 12-15, 2010). For three nights, three times a year, they serve the spiciest food that sadism can muster. For decades, the event has attracted spice masochists the world in the past quarter-century who come to sacrifice their tongues to flame.

I figured if there were any small Asian girl who could handle Hell Night, it would be me. I’m brazen with my applications of Sriracha to dining hall food. I’ve eaten Sichuanese hotpot in Chengdu, which essentially drinking scalding, spicy oil. In frustration over Thai dishes not being hot enough, I’ve literally eaten spoonfuls of fish-sauce laden bird chilies to the admiration of waiters and professional eaters.

photos by Sam Lipoff

But only the truly deranged ask for East Coast Grill’s mythical Pasta From Hell. It’s a dish so hot that they make you sign a consent form. A manager personally requested that I not eat it. “I’ll give you a spoonful for free,” he told me. “Please don’t do it to yourself.”

In the interest of research, I have to. I meet Satan to do the deed. His name is Dr. Pepper, and he’s wearing a felt hat shaped like a jalapeno. His shirt printed with cartoon flames and a string of plastic chiles is looped around his neck. Rasta-colored sweatbands encircle his wrists. He seems positively… genial.

There’s a hellish ingredient in what I’m about to consume. It’s called the ghost chili (naga jolokia) – as omnious as it sounds.

It is the hottest hot pepper in the world. It clocks in at about a blistering 1,000,000 Scoville units.

You do not eat it; it eats you.

Dr. Pepper brings over the orange form. It reads “Hell Pasta Consent,” and the final paragraph describes what I am about to experience after eating this pasta of lore:

“Close your eyes and imagine an angry Goliath Birdeater crawling down your throat, the irritating sting of its barbed urticating hairs penetrating the membranes of your tongue and esophagus. The large hairy spider reaches your stomach and sinks its fangs into your intestines… Hours later, it tears out the other end, alive.”

I sign my name.

My dining partners and I had sampled the merely very spicy dishes already without much event. (I was actually somewhat disappointed at the level of spiciness, although the steak and Korean fried chicken were all very tasty.) The pasta came, quivering under its thick application of seasoning. I twirled a generous, wide noodle around my fork and placed it in my mouth.

I chewed. Then I took another bite. It took about 5 seconds for it to hit me. But when it did, I understood what I’d signed up for.

Imagine the hottest habanero you’ve ever eaten. Imagine the rip-roar flash burn of a Jalapeno, the prickly Novocain of a Szechuan peppercorn, the sour sizzle-pop of a hit of Tabasco.

Then multiply that by hundreds of thousands.

Imagine an unchecked forest-fire flame searing your throat and tongue and the roof your mouth to a well-done cannibal’s steak. Water only prolongs your agony. Milk barely dampens the flames.

That, my friends, is the Pasta From Hell.

I barely survived three bites before I succumbed to tears, mouthfuls of cornbread, and half a glass of milk.

But other people were more extreme. The man at the table behind me shoveled the entire thing into his mouth in thirty seconds, then looking pale, ran outside to throw up.

He came back, concerned girlfriend in tow, and declared victory. He’d only thrown up the three glasses of water he’d chugged after the fact.

Dr. Pepper came by with a free t-shirt for the pasta victor and posed for photos. But I knew that the Devil would have the last laugh. Come tomorrow, his digestive tract would burn anew. What goes in, after all, had to come out.

Related posts:

1. Asian Girl Cooking: The Great Pizza Update
2. Asian Girl Cooking: Growing Pains
3. Eating at Motorino East Village (NYC)

This flight also involved me being convinced I had boarded the wrong plane, since I got on and woke up in Shanghai rather than Los Angeles. Oh no, I cried, then went in panic to the flight attendant (who was tall, pale, slender, and pretty, like all Chinese flight attendants are). I got on the wrong plane! I’m in the wrong city!!!

Turns out I just had to transfer twice in my quest to make it back to the east coast of America.

Anyway, I’m delighted to be home… i’m delighted to find clean bathrooms, and English-speaking staff, and politeness to strangers, and TWITTER, and FACEBOOK, and oh my god… You have no idea how great it is to be home. How great it is to know the names of things, and be able to communicate with people, and yes, feel a little skinnier in comparison.

This is my first video that I have ever edited beginning to end, so be kind… the musical selection is the Arctic Monkeys’ “Mardy Baum,” in case you are interested.

So here’s my video of when I ate balls with my BFF Marianna at KO Prime in Boston. This was back in May/June or so, but didn’t get around to editing it until now. Enjoy! Expect more stuff like this to come.

Many thanks

Related posts:

1. Weird Eats: Bull penis and live scorpions. Also, Starbucks coffee.
2. I eat brains; there is a video.
3. Balls!

The first time I saw this in person, I just thought it was the coolest thing ever. So I took a video.

The inside is flaky and savory, like so:

Jian Bing in all its pornographic glory.

Related posts:

1. A Boston Epicure’s Photo Dispatch from Shanghai, China
2. The Best Hairy Crab Roe in Shanghai, or, a Shanghai Dining Editor’s Must Eats List
3. Shanghai’s Swedish Chef at T8

Related posts:

1. Masa’s in Porter Square Exchange Mall serves some really awful sushi
2. North End Scallops, Porter Sushi, Audio Slideshows: A busy weekend
3. The Blue October Pizza at Zing! Pizza

Related posts:

1. Lingbo eats bull balls: THE VIDEO.
2. CampusTweet interviews me on video; Korean food ensues
3. Help, my dinner has tiny claws and tiny brains.