In an effort to flaunt the fact that I still have not broken my New Year's resolution, I report to you from Prince's Hot Chicken Shack in Nashville, Tennessee. Prince's is hardly a secret to foodies, so I am always amazed at the number of folks I run into from Nashville who don't know that this culinary landmark even exists. Everyone, listen up.

Photo by Caroline Allison

The Hot Chicken at Prince's is simply amazing, if not from a shock standpoint alone. The treatment of the chicken itself is extremely well executed. It is crispy and juicy every time I eat it (which I can't say for most fried chicken), but they make it truly their own when they slather it in a Scoville-ian nightmare of your choosing. The evilness of the sauces' heat choices range from "mild" to "extra hot."  I tried "medium" on my first trip, which was enough to make me realize the potential danger, and though I have braved the "hot" (which left me with the feeling briefly like I was bleeding from my eye sockets), I can't say that I have had the nerve—or enough to drink—to try the extra hot, but legend has it that the endorphin rush unleashed by it has inspired ferocious torrents of carnal activity right in the parking lot.

Whether you want to risk permanent damage to your esophagus, teeth, gums, nasal cavities, stomach lining, and lower intestines just to reintroduce some passion to your love life is up to you. For now I'm sticking to more traditional methods, but I don't think I'll be complete until I've tried it.