Dossier of a Hot-Saucier

I guess I just like having my face melted. It’s the only conclusion, really. Blistering rock and roll, spicy food, mind-liquifying literature, and looking directly into the Ark of the Covenant: I’ve done it all.

Being the thrill-seeker that I am, I’ve done it all nearly to death. Oh, the tales my tummy could tell. There was the time I attempted Orochon Ramen’s Special #2 Spicy Ramen Challenge, only to give up after consuming all the noodles and meat (and three-quarters of the broth), and being faced with the proposition of slurping down a viscous lake of fire just so I could get a crappy T-shirt. After throwing in my napkin, I reached for a glass of water, accidentally hitting a chop stick with my wrist and causing a globule of lava lamp liquid to arc gracefully through the sky and land directly in my retina. I like to think diners in the restaurant that day still tell tales of the blind man grunting and groping furiously for the bathroom to rinse his eyes as they attempted to nurse their noodles.

There was the time I defeated the Salvador Molly’s Great Balls of Fire Challenge and then played the best damn game of glow-in-the-dark, pirate-themed mini golf of my life afterward, all the while swearing that I was tripping balls off capsaicin alone.

There was the Killer Burger Marine Burger Challenge, which poisoned me for an entire day after causing me to befoul the yard of one of the restaurant’s neighbors under the judgmental eye of a mailman. I tried to swig milk like Ron Burgundy on a hot day, but to no avail. Four ghost chiles on one burger are simply not to be trifled with, friends.

Now that we’ve established that I’m a culinary masochist, perhaps I should step back from the smouldering heart of Mount Doom. Just because I love spicy food, it doesn’t mean that I ALWAYS want to feel like I’m suffering from Ebola. No, sometimes I just enjoy a low-grade fever. Given my hatred of actual external heat, as in the kind caused by the sun or the music of Glenn Frey, this means keeping a stockpile of hot sauces capable of inducing a wide range of perceived bodily temperatures.

It’s actually more of an arsenal, really. If a burglar were to break into my house, I wouldn’t even mess with a baseball bat. I’d just go straight for the hot sauce shelf, and he’d be pooling in the cracks of our linoleum like the Wicked Witch of the West in no time. If a criminal (or elderly person) were to accidentally drive a car into our fridge, the result would be akin to the nuclear waste shower Antonowsky gets at the end of “Robocop.”

Thus, as a warning to all would-be neighborhood ne’er-do-wells, and any readers foolhardy enough to follow my piss-poor example, I offer the following five suggestions for heating up your homemade meals:

1. El Yucateco – I first encountered my favorite hot sauce brand at the old Fresh Mex in Corvallis, but have consistently found it at fine taquerias everywhere. El Yucateco is the Eagle Rare of hot sauces in that there might be better options, but none that I so consistently buy and apply. The two best flavors are the green Salsa Picante de Chile Habanero and the red Salsa Kutbil-ik de Chile Habanero (or XXXTRA HOT SAUCE). Originating from Mexico’s Yucatan Peninsula, these two hot sauces come the closest to capturing the actual flavor of habaneros in addition to the heat. Just a tad sweet, and with a thick consistency that ensures you don’t douse your food with them, I can’t recommend El Yucateco highly enough for those who like spicy food. Note: Do not buy their regular red hot sauce. It’s kind of disgusting. If it’s true that these hot sauces are based on ancient Mayan recipes, I can only assume that the not-so-hot red was the recipe they offered to the Spanish as a welcome gift upon arriving in the new world.
2. Yellowbird – On my last trip to Austin, I discovered Yellowbird’s 100% Natural Habanero sauce, and now wonder how I ever considered what came before “living.” Akin to Portland’s own Secret Aardvark in that it’s sweeter than it is hot, it’s nonetheless packed with habanero flavor. Carrots, tangerine juice concentrate, and cane sugar add just a hint of fruity flavor to the mix, and the result is somewhere between a Mexican- and a Caribbean-style hot sauce. It would go as well with plantain chips as it would with your favorite burrito.
3. Garlicky Greengo – Not really hot at all, at least by my standards, Garlicky Greengo is aptly named and is all about adding the always-welcome flavors of garlic and roasted jalapenos and tomatillos to any meal. Less sweet than the first two recommendations, this is is a duel between the subtle heat of the jalapeno and the intense, pungent hit of garlic. Highly recommended for those afraid to dip their tongues into liquid hot magma but still open to experiencing a hot sauce that tastes like more than vinegar.
4. Snake Oil – While vacationing in Belize, we met a cool couple from Baltimore named Nick and Robin. Belizean eateries often offer their own homemade hot sauces (and pretty much always stock Marie Sharp’s, Belize’s national brand), which got us talking about our favorite kinds. Soon, an exchange was arranged, and Nick and Robin outdid us in the extreme. Of the three bottles we received – the smoky, tangy Tree Frog; the sweet, salad-dressing-like Cilanktro; and Snake Oil – the last one definitely stood out. The perfect combination of three simple ingredients, Snake Oil lets Maryland’s own fish peppers shine with just a bit of cider vinegar and sea salt to bring out their flavor. I’d compare the fish pepper to the cascabel peppers Mezzetta markets as “Hot Chili Peppers” (they’re also available at Baja Fresh salsa bars), but with a slightly earthier note to them. If you get by with Tabasco or Frank’s Red Hot, this might be an adventurous next step for you.
5. Tears of Joy Hot Sauce Shop – Perhaps the greatest store in all of Austin – with the possible exception of End of an Ear Records – Tears of Joy caused me to weep before I even sampled its wares. Seeing all of those hot sauces together in one place was just … so … beautiful, man. I first tried Garlicky Greengo here, as well as the deliciously curry-laden Rasta Fire Hot, Hot, Hot Sauce. They have two long tables at the back of the shop at all times filled with at least 50 hot sauces to sample on free tortilla chips. While this might sometimes serve as a novelty snack bar for SXSW wastoids, to the constant coveters of new adventures in spice, it is Mecca. Tears of Joy also has its own line of hot sauces, including one named after Portland metal band Red Fang, and another titled simply Liquid Arson. I highly recommend the mild Texas Cactus hot sauce, which, like Garlicky Greengo, is as much about the interplay between onions and garlic as it is about the serrano chiles that provide just a hint of heat. Don’t worry if you can’t make it to Austin; for a small markup, Tears of Joy will bring the pain directly to your doorstep.

NOTE: During the crafting of this blog post, a shelf collapse led to the demise of my bottle of Liquid Arson, foiling my plan to say that no hot sauces were harmed in the making of this blog post. Donations and notes of condolence can be sent to me care of Arkham Asylum, Gotham City.