Chilli level: 10/10
Peddling a neat combination of Southern-inspired chicken and natural wines, Belles Hot Chicken has in its short life built a reputation for inflicting some of the city’s cruelest heat damage by way of its top-tier chilli rub: Sex Panther. One tier hotter than Really Fuckin’ Hot, it combines the chilli force of each heat-tier under it with the folkloric Carolina Reaper pepper: the Guinness World Records-certified scary bish chilli of the universe, clocking in at 1.6 million scoville units. We try and order a plate of Sex Panther wings, but we are not allowed: “I just wanna warn you,” begins our waiter, “in my opinion, it’s not enjoyable. The only guy I’ve seen ever get close insisted he could do it cause he was drunk, and then he went out the front and vomited on the footpath.” We order a single solitary Sex Panther tenderloin instead, served encrusted in a thick, chalky rouge rub atop a slice of trashy white bread, get halfway through it and mouth-breath our way to the exit. Dizzyingly hot — thunderclap headache territory. Utterly f**ked.