The idea

Bright fruit, big heat

I love heat. Not the lay-on-a-beach all day type of heat - the one that makes my mouth explode with fire from the after-effects of the single best food item on earth... the humble chilli.

Back in 1982 my dad (ex-Navy, travelled the world) took my family to an Indian restaurant in Colindale, London, where he was based for a while. Insisting on experiencing "proper" Indian food for the first time ever, he recommended the Chicken Madras, warning me that it might hurt. I sat there in nervous anticipation, worried that the spice levels would be my undoing.

It arrived in front of me, and I tucked in. Today, a Madras-level heat barely registers on my scale. But back then it was like Pandoras Box of Spices had opened up in front of me.

I was hooked.

Mum didn't have any spice in the house. It was the early 80s and things like chilli powder, ginger, turmeric and cardamom weren't on the typical shopping list.

So, that was that for some time. All I could do was to dream about the amazing new taste I'd suddenly discovered, thanks to my dad.

Six years later I found myself in the Navy too, travelling the world and exploring the culinary delights of the Caribbean, South America, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan and India. Not only did I see the world during my teens and early 20s, I also got to experience an incredible variety of food and drink from across the world - with some of the finest people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing.

This is us, on HMS Birmingham, during a 6-month tour of the Caribbean in 1990. I'm 4th from the left, by the way.

But back to food. This dish in particular below - Telenganu Chicken from a restaurant in Hyderabad - still makes me salivate whenever I see it. Some would say it looks rather unappetising, but it's a dish I'll always remember as being one of the hottest things I've ever tasted - but also with one of the best flavours ever.

What caught my interest the most were the spices used to transform what's often simple ingredients into flavours that delight and amaze the palette. The common thread - for me - was chilli. Don't get me wrong, I loved exploring the flavours, but I soon found myself addicted to the "buzz" of a truly hot chilli.

That addiction continues today. The euphoric feeling that accompanies the heat gets my endorphines running flying like a swarm of hornets. It's that chemical hit that makes chillis so addictive.

Yet, for me, the heat is just one side of the story. Whilst in the past I used to base my choice of food on heat levels, I now consider flavour to be just as important, especially when paired with something as delicious as a whopping great piece of rare steak seasoned with coriander seed and sea salt, and drizzled in spicy hot chilli suace.

It was in 2005(ish) that I discovered the wonder of Scotch Bonnets. These beautifully wrinkly (some would say ugly, but not me) chillis brought something that I haven't experienced before - flavour. The earthy, grassy, but tropical flavours helped me realise that chillis didn't have to be all about heat; taste was important too.

I've known about the "superhots" for some time, of course. The much-feared Ghost, the Carolina Reaper, Pepper X, and so many others were available in the UK as ground powdered spice. But unless you had a damn good greenhouse, growing them only seemed possible to those living in warmer climes.

But then fast-forward to two years ago, and I was out shopping in Homebase Stafford for some gardening gear. I'd just got into gardening the year before, and it was my second attempt at growing tomatoes.

In fact, the tomatoes continue growing in my modest back garden today, and are used for my chilli sauces, along with garlic, carrots and onion, all home-grown and used in my Core of the Sun sauce.

Tucked away on a shelf in the outdoor gardening section of Homebase were a rack of small chilli plants, labelled "Armageddon". On the rear of the label it stated that the Armageddon is the hottest chilli to be grown commercially in the UK - at 1.3 million Scoville units. That puts the Armageddon chilli at 260 times hotter than a Jalapeno chilli!

There was no option. I had to buy a plant, and try growing it myself. And with fairly good results, to be honest. On that first year I nurtured and fed it, and it eventually rewarded me with around 15 superhot chillis, which made their way into my curries, chilli-con-carne, soups, and even ramen noodles.

"How about I extract some seeds for next year", I wondered. And that's what I did.

From those seeds I managed to grow five plants, starting their life in my home-made propagator made from spare wood, a heat mat from Amazon, and some cultivation lights. They started peeking their first leaves (cotyledons) mid-November 2025, and they remained there throughout the winter to keep them away from frost.

By March 2026 the five plants were already outgrowing the propagator, so I had to take them out and keep them in my bedroom, day and night, until the weather was warm enough for them to explore the great outdoors and get some "real" sun on their leaves.

I kept notes about each plant as I went along - how much water they needed, their speed of growth, leaf size etc. Realising that I was becoming obsessed, I gave each one an identifier so that I could (hopefully) keep the line of succession going over several years, and perhaps even exploring the possibility of creating my own species. So, they became Armageddon A, B, C, D, and E.

My girls got wind of my system, and gave them each a name:

• A - Alexis
• B - Beth
• C - Caroline
• D - Diana
• E - Erin

They eventually got transported into the back garden in a sunny spot in April 2026 - with the first few pods already bursting their way out from their flowers.

My first marble-sized pod was at the start of July. It was still green but I wanted (no, "needed") to give it a whirl to see how how it was.

I popped it into my mouth, crunched into the earthy flesh, and it hit me! For the next 15 minutes I was lying on my back on my patio, mouth hotter than the core of the sun (that "aha" moment), contemplating all the stupid things I'd done in my life.

And the story continues today. I no longer eat them raw, even though I have a titanium-coated palette. They're just too hot to eat straight from the plant.

Alexis, Beth, Caroline, Diana and Erin are still giving me incredible yields of superhot Armageddon chillis which are used for my sauces. Interestingly, each plant - grown from seeds from a single pod from their parent - produces a fascinating variety of flavours, heat levels, pungency, fruitiness, and aroma. I'm glad that I documented each "girl", because it allows me to fine-tune my sauces, adding Caroline when I need a little more 'perfume', Erin when I need more 'punch', and Alexis for straight-up earthy flavour. Each has its own profile, and will be very interesting to reproduce in 2027.

From the very start, I wanted Core of the Sun chilli built around the contrast that makes chilli sauce so addictive: sweet tropical fruit up front, fresh garden earthiness in the middle, and a warm (OK, ridiculously hot) finish that keeps building to a crescendo.

This year's range starts with Core of the Sun Original - a superhot for serious heat which I intend to sell at fairs and online.

Watch this space to see what happens next year, because I've got some crazy ideas coming up!

Chris Haycock
Chief Crazy Scientist