Skip to main content

Sriracha Hot Sauce: A torrid love-affair

In case you've never seen this lovely, dangerous green-topped bottle sitting on the table at your favorite Asian restaurant...I introduce you to Sriracha hot sauce. It is a devil, a temptress, a delicious condiment and yet a feared adversary not to be trifled with.

I use Sriracha on just about everything you could conceivably use hot-sauce on: meat, eggs, potatoes, vegetables, anything that needs a kick in the ass where flavor is concerned. And believe me, Sriracha will give your food a kick in the ass--and give you a kick in the solar plexus.

The thing about Sriracha is it's not immediately hot when you put it in your mouth. No, when it first hits your tongue it has a complex, earthy kind of chili-pepper flavor. It's thick and robust, like tomato sauce almost, not thin and acidic like the "Nuclear Hellfire" hotsauce you see in souvenir stores or what have you. No, this is actually almost like a chili relish at first.

However, somewhere between swallowing and digesting, it hits you. You will find your esophagus burning and your eyes filling with tears as you dab your next bite of food into it, all the while eyeballing that glass (two glasses) of water you've carefully placed next to you. Then after about ten minutes, that burn starts to set in on your tongue and you're in for a long ride.

Eating Sriracha is almost a contest: can you successfully use it to flavor your food, while not giving yourself an ulcer or a trip to the emergency room??? At the same time, it's like going into battle: you feel a sense of danger, a thrill each time you reach for the bottle, not knowing if you'll be able to do it this time. Wondering if this time...this time the great Sriracha will beat you down for good. But it's a battle worth fighting.


Popular posts from this blog

New Yorker Fiction Review #146: "Three Short Moments in a Long Life" by John L'Heureux

Issue: May 9, 2016

Story: "Three Short Moments in a Long Life" by John L'Heureux

Rating: $

Review: I feel like this is a somewhat tired technique, straight out of Creative Writing 101: write a story consisting of three or four different snapshots or snippets out of a character's life at different ages, sort of like a series of written photographs. Fun perhaps, but strikes me as a bit amateurish. However, I also think L'Heureux succeeds here by pushing it a bit further, playing with the character's tentative attempts at something close to faith -- in childish, adult, and mature adult ways -- and tying all three "Short Moments" together in a subtle and readily decipherable way.

L'Heureux's prose and his frank humor and his ability to glorify and find the meaning in the mundane events and thoughts of every day life, and thereby turn the life of an ordinary person into a drama with meaning and significance puts me in mind of John Irving. As well a…

New Yorker Fiction Review #151: "The Bog Girl" by Karen Russell

From the June 20 issue...

My loyal readers (if there are still any, which I doubt) will know I'm usually not a fan of Magical Realism, which, as you may also know, is Karen Russell's stock in trade. That said, there's nothing I love more than having my antipathy for magical realism shattered by an awesome story like "The Bog Girl."

Briefly, an Irish teenager discovers the body of a young woman who as been buried in a bog for over 2,000 years and begins to date her. What more do you need, right? If I'd read that one-line description somewhere else, and wasn't on a mission to review every New Yorker short story, I doubt I'd have read "The Bog Girl." But maybe I should start doing a George Costanza and do the opposite of everything I think I should do.

Where Russell succeeds here is in two main areas: 1.) Making us really love Cillian, the teenager who falls in love with the bog girl, and 2.) pulling the unbelievable trick making the characters…

Water Review: San Pellegrino 250ml Bottle

Damn you, tiny little bottle of San Pellegrino. So little. So cute. But what are you really good for other than to make me wish I had a full bottle of Pellegrino? 
Good as a palate cleanser after a nice double espresso, I will give it that. But little else. The suave yet chaotic burst of Pellegrino bubbliness is still there, but with each sip you feel the tragedy of being that much closer to the end of the bottle, that much faster.

This is a bottle of water made specifically for the frustrated, for the meticulous, for the measurers among us with a penchant for the dainty. This water does not love you in the wild, on a sunny porch or with the raucous laughter of friends. No...much the opposite. Whatever that may be.

Best drunk in tiny, tiny sips, while forcing oneself through an unreadable and depressing Russian novel one does not want to read but feels one should, on a cold, wet day in December that promises four months of gloom and depression...or in pairs or threes and poured over …