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Ah That Fine Bermuda Dynamite
The Sunday Journal By Garrett D. Byrnes
It's no ones fault but your own if, every so often,
you scald your throat with soup fresh from the pot, baked potatoes, or
coffee. It hurts, but you
think, better luck next time and don't be so impetuous. There are other
times when a seared gullet can result from sheer ignorance.
The first time that happened to me was years ago in the railroad
depot in Bangor. I was
headed north and between trains stopped in at the station restaurant for
lunch - a ham and cheese sandwich and some coffee. The
waitress brought a jar of mustard.
Up to that time, I was familiar with the kind of mustard you put
on hot dogs at Coney Island or Palisades park, pallid stuff which you
could slather on without dire consequence.
But the mustard in the Bangor depot was freshly mixed out of the
tin and after a bite or two, I was aware of a new experience, an intense
burning which didn't go away for the rest of the day.
Ever since, hot mustard for cold cuts or sandwiches has been my
preference but with extreme caution.
The second seared gullet came a dozen years ago in the lovely dining
room of the Royal Bermuda Yacht Club in Hamilton.
I'd ordered a bowl of Bermuda fish chowder which unlike our New
England fish chowder is a thick broth of rockfish without milk.
The waiter came to the table with a decanter which contained
sherry and, at the bottom, several layers of something which might have
been kidney beans. He said
it was good in the chowder and added that it was hot, use it with care.
For years, I had improved soup with a generous lacing of sherry
and, on this occasion, I was too generous.
The chowder was wonderful but it brought tears to the eyes and
hellfire in the throat. The
glass of ice water helped some and I changed my order from hot to iced
water.
My stinging introduction to Bermuda sherry peppers was such an
interesting experience that a cruet of the inflammatory concoction has
been on our pantry shelf ever since.
There isn't a soup, chowder or stew which isn't improved by a few
drops - not teaspoonfuls - of sherry peppers.
When I needed a replenishment, it was my custom to write to Colin
Selley who was the publicity man for Bermuda for many years and who is
now the very voice of Bermuda on the governmental executive council.
I'd send a check and back, by ship and slow time would come a few
more cruets of what has come to be known in our house as Bermuda
Dynamite.
When you go anywhere on a holiday, it adds spice to the adventure if you
have a purpose. My recent
visit to Bermuda was for fun, sunshine and riding the wonderful ferry
boats. But primarily, it
was to find out more about sherry peppers and the man who concocts and
bottles the stuff.
After a week of loafing about, I called up Yeaton Outerbridge at
"Villa Monticello" on Harrington Sound, halfway between
Hamilton and St. George. I
explained that I was and old and appreciative user of his biting brew
and would he be willing to tell me more about it .
He couldn't have been nicer. Up
to then - from the labels on the cruets - I had the impression that the
sherry peppers plant was at Shelly Bay but Mr. Outerbridge that he
recently had shifted his inferno to one of the buildings in Her
Majesty's dockyard on Ireland Island where he'd be glad to see me the
next morning at ten. We were at
Lantana in Somerset so it was a relatively short taxi to the dockyard,
still the command station of Britain's West Indies squadron but hardly
much more. The dockyard
still has a gigantic floating dock which took care of wounded ships of
the western Allies in World War II, berthing facilities for the
occasional British of Canadian naval vessels which call at Bermuda and
not much else. The Royal Marine at
the gate told us how to get to Outerbridge Peppers Ltd.
and then we drove by and around hulking grey-stone buildings
empty but full of echoes of Britannia Rules the Waves.
Some of the old naval structures have been leased to small businesses.
Mr. Outerbridge's sherry peppers plant quite appropriately is in
a dock yard building once occupied by the sick bay where naval surgeons
concocted potions to heal the ills of the British tars.
The building, like it's neighbours has stone walls four feet
thick to withstand enemy bombardment. There are no
sign of doctors or sailors. Just
a lot of large wine casks, a long conveyor belt and at the far end
cartons of the finished product awaiting shipment.
The affable Mr. Outerbridge, who other enterprises include real
estate and Bermuda's only paint company, said the secret of his sherry
peppers lies in "the heat" of the peppers.
It was easy to nod agreement to that .
for a long time Bermuda's supply of bird peppers has been
inadequate so the firm is now importing its peppers from Nigeria, 1,000
pounds at a time. The
sherry is obtained through Gosling Brothers Ltd., one of the several
dealers in wines and spirits so well known to Bermuda visitors.
When I asked for the formula for Outerbridge sherry peppers, it was
quickly apparent that I'd touched a hot-point.
The Candlers of Atlanta keep the secret of Coca-Cola in a bank
vault. The Wupperman brothers,
happily recalled by older Americans as Frank and Ralph Morgan, both
stage and screen actors of great skill guarded carefully the secret of
their family's Angostura Bitters. Aside
from the peppers from Nigeria and the sherry from Gosling, Mr.
Outerbridge let it go by saying "We add perhaps a score of other
spices. When the fiery liquid has
aged in the casks and is being bottled, a few peppers are dropped in the
cruets as so much window or bottle dressing.
To encourage consumption of the product, each handsomely packaged bottle
includes a small leaflet suggesting several interesting uses:
A melted butter sauce to be poured over fish; a kedgeree for breakfast
or luncheon - which involves rice, hard-cooked eggs minced fine, flaked
fish with curry and/or onion optional; a Bloody Mary which, with sherry
peppers added, becomes a Bermuda Mary.
That's as far as I am willing to go.
The leaflet also includes the recipe for a Peppertini, a Martini
cocktail with a drop or two of you know what.
The Martini is too noble a drink to be monkeyed with.
After the look at the Bermuda Dynamite plant, Mr. Outerbridge took us on
a tour of the all - but - defunct dockyard and, while we were walking
around it came out that back in 1961, he came to Rhode Island and
married Betsey Coste, a Rhode Island girl, in St. Matthew's Episcopal
Church in Jamestown.
If you can imagine leaving Bermuda for a vacation, that's what
Yeaton and Betsey Outerbridge do every summer.
They come back to their house on Hawthorne Road in Jamestown. |
