Seems that for some people the excruciating pain of eating hot chile peppers isn’t a sufficient thrill if it doesn’t include a trip to the ER. The good news: chances of finding anything hotter than cinnamon (“ay, me pica!) in Argentina is ... zero.
I lived in northern Mexico (Sonora) where allegedly mild dishes could cause your head to explode. So imagine my amusement when a waiter here warns me of the caustic potential in a dish of the ubiquitous, obnoxious chimichurri he serves with my steak.
Of course I’d rather dress my meat with roofing tar, but I smile and say “gracias.”