I wish I’d known what would happen to my hands when an asshole chef where I was interning punished me for not having brought my own knife (! to an unpaid internship!!) by making me cut up chile peppers.
I didn’t notice until I got home that my hands were on fire. One of the more uncomfortable nights I’ve had. And then the asshole chef had the gall to make fun of me and my “super-sensitive” hands when I asked for gloves the next day. So I quit. Fugdatnoise.
As for at home, my sweets uses them more often than I do, mostly when he’s marinating lamb for kebabs so as to not reek of garlic & onion for days. I like the tactile experience of mixing up ground meats (and don’t have OCD), so I don’t use gloves. We have a sink and soap after all.
