Every fall I go to a farm market and buy a big bag of hot cherry peppers to stuff. It was my aunt's recipe, and for years, they were a staple for Wingman as he watched Sunday football games. The recipe is memorable for more than the burning sensation from the oil that stays on my hands for days after cutting and removing the seeds. Every time I make them, it takes me back to a candy company and an air traffic controller's strike.
I was working in retail for six years when my old candy buyer phoned me about a job opportunity in the wholesale field. Two weeks after my only interview and armed with a Willie Loman suitcase, a road map and some samples, I was out selling chocolates.
