{"id":1502,"date":"2007-03-27T01:35:00","date_gmt":"2007-03-27T01:35:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/elitemporaryblog.wordpress.com\/2007\/03\/27\/hot-sauce"},"modified":"2007-03-27T01:35:00","modified_gmt":"2007-03-27T01:35:00","slug":"hot-sauce","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/orangette.net\/2007\/03\/hot-sauce\/","title":{"rendered":"Hot sauce"},"content":{"rendered":"
I hope you\u2019ll bear with me. I wish I could say otherwise, but the truth is, I\u2019ve still got my head in the pantry closet<\/a>. There may be tiny flowers popping out of the hedge of the house across the street, but where springtime is concerned, the produce section isn\u2019t quite so forthcoming. I bought a bundle of early-season asparagus a few days ago, but the spears were watery and dull, as though their flavor were still hidden away under the soil, hibernating for winter. I saw spring onions at the market yesterday, but even they were a little wimpy and anemic, picked a week too soon. Thank heavens, I say, for the pantry, my little haven from the seasons. This week, once again, it did us proud. It brought forth a bag of chiles de \u00e1rbol<\/span> and from it, a bang-up hot sauce.<\/p>\n Now, before I go any further, you should know one thing: Brandon is a hot sauce fiend. As of this writing, our refrigerator contains eight bottles of assorted hot sauce. That\u2019s three more than five, and only two less than ten. We are the only people in this house. That means that hot sauce outnumbers us four to one. I could have guessed it would be this way from our first date, I suppose, when he made a salad dressing \u2013 a delicious one at that \u2013 consisting of lime juice, olive oil, and a copious amount of Vietnamese chili garlic sauce<\/a>. My lips were ablaze, and that was before<\/span> any hanky-panky. I have since watched him plow through a few squeeze bottles of sriracha<\/a>, not to mention vials of Tapatio<\/a>, Cholula<\/a>, and similar sauces. Cholula, he tells me, was once his favorite. Recently, however, its makers seem to have changed the chile blend \u2013 from piquin<\/span> to piquin<\/span> and \u00e1rbol<\/span> \u2013 and, he says sadly, it doesn\u2019t taste the same. You should have seen him the first time he noticed the difference. He was genuinely distraught. I am marrying a man who is serious about his hot sauce. Luckily, I like it too, although eight bottles does<\/span> seem a little excessive.<\/p>\n Anyway, all this to say that Brandon likes hot sauce, and that this weekend, for the second time in only a few weeks, he made<\/span> hot sauce. The collection in our refrigerator has just accepted its ninth member. It\u2019s a nice one.<\/p>\n Rich and nutty with sesame and pumpkin seeds, smelling of warmth and chiles and places with plenty of sun, this homemade blend is the new favorite of the house. Even the merest whiff at the jar \u2013 lightly smoky and with a wallop of spice \u2013 makes my stomach start to grumble. It\u2019s toasty and complex and creamy-textured. It\u2019s also tinted that lovely orange color that interior designers tell people to paint their dining rooms. And as luck has it, it\u2019s very easy to make. A little fiddly, maybe, with all those chiles to be stemmed<\/a>, but well worth the trouble. We like it with beans of any sort, and with chips and beer. We\u2019ve even sneaked it into Malena\u2019s, our local taqueria, to dribble it into tacos, corn tortillas, and guacamole. For those who don\u2019t mind mixing cuisines, it\u2019s also a winner with hummus<\/a> and mujadara<\/a>, its comrades from the pantry closet. It\u2019ll keep things warm for a while around here, which is more than I can say for the weather.<\/p>\n<\/a>
The sauce in question comes from Mexican cooking guru Rick Bayless<\/a>, whose recipes do not disappoint. Once, when I was eighteen, I went to a dinner in Oklahoma at which he was the guest chef, and let me tell you, the man is good<\/span>. I was especially enamored of his Yucatecan fresh coconut pie. I ate my slice, half of my mother\u2019s, and the last bit from the plate of the woman at the end of the table. A few weeks later, my mother and I made the pie ourselves. None of the usual methods worked to pry open the coconut, so we went outside and pitched it, four square<\/a>-style, at the driveway. It split with a spectacular crack, sending shards of coconut under the car, and the resulting pie was stupendously good. Rick Bayless is a great man. His recipe for chile de \u00e1rbol<\/i> hot sauce is just one more reason why.<\/p>\n