First Impression: After having this guy on my shelf for a few weeks, I finally realized it was called “Vampfire” and not “Vampire” Hot Sauce. Neat. The coloring book style vampire on the front of the bottle looks like he is halfway between bloodthirsty phantom of the night and your middle school science teacher dressed up for Halloween.

“Made up the road from Translyvania, LA.” Hmm…yep, there is one, I just checked. I imagine this vampire warning us in his spookiest voice of the “VERY HOT” labeling of his sauce, yet I don’t imagine that freakish thing could create anything close to hot.

Ingredients: Habanero peppers, tabasco peppers, cayenne peppers, distilled vinegar, onions, sugar, salt, spices, lemon oil, cellulose gum, and F.D.&C. red #40.

Smell: This smells like there is too much of something in it. I do detect a citrus tinge from the lemon oil, but I think I’m going to blame it on the “spices,” whatever they are. Either there is too much of one of them, or there are just too many. When I was younger, I used to take every possible spice and bottled flavor enhancer in my mothers spice cabinet, mix it with water, milk, both, etc, and end up with these “potions.” I would not really do anything with them, but I remember what they smelled like, and it wasn’t too different from this sauce.

Appearance: Vampfire is reddish brown, almost like a rust color. It’s significantly runny, with a complete absence of chunks. Teeny tiny specks of black and red are slightly visible.

Taste: Initially, there is a sweetness that just sits there unsure of itself, like it’s afraid to reveal what’s underneath. Then a strong vinegar acidity bites through, along with the chile flavor, and finally the spice blend. I’m not sure if it’s the confused mixture of spices, or the dull, unresolved sweetness throughout, but something is amiss here. Or it could possibly be that the sauce itself got a bit stale. The flavor is not offensive; it’s just kind of blasé. I’d imagine this would taste alright on a smoked cheese, or like a split pea soup. These are just the first things that come to mind, no real rhyme or reason.

Heat: Hmm…well, it creeps up; I’d give it a low “hot,” rating, definitely not “very hot.” Sorry Dracula, or whoever you are. This sauce has an impressively slow rise to full strength, but it plateaus before any significant panting occurs, nesting warmly in a large mid-tongue area. In my opinion, no need for the additional “Caution! Extremely hot! Use sparingly” warnings on this sauce. It’s tame enough for most, though you might get a rise out of the less heat-inclined with it.

Overall: Fair. Satisfactory. A little too much going on, a little too synthetic-tasting. The heat is decent, but not out of this world. Before I drive a steak into it (the misspelling was unintentional, but now I’m keeping it), I want to see how it will perform on some exquisitely tender looking pork cutlets I bought the other day…ladies and gentleman, I present to you Meathenge, inspired, somehow, by Vampfire Hot Sauce.

It tasted just fine, and the heat complimented the swine quite agreeably. I cooked the pork with some Worcestershire, white wine, and soy sauce, so once I got some other flavors into the mix, a dousing of this stuff was a welcome and spicy addition.

Contact:
Panola Pepper Corp.
Rt. 2 Box 148
Lake Providence, LA 71254
318-559-1774

First Impression: Ooo, the black label! Is this like Scotch, is there a blue, a red, a green? Whatever the case, with the fancy cursive font and the no-nonsense design, Borderline Gourmet is targeting a more refined BBQ set with this Chipotle sauce/marinade. But if we are to take the name “Borderline” to mean “almost,” then there is also a refreshing self-awareness and humor present, as if to say, “it’s only sauce, let’s not get carried away here.”

Oh man, then they have to go and defeat that argument by getting carried away on the back blurb: “Created with the most selective of palates in mind and the most dedicated grillers to heart, we have taken the taste of an outdoor feast to new heights…When they ask where you found such a unique flavor simply say ‘From the Borderline!”

Ingredients: Water, tomato concentrate (water, tomato paste), corn syrup, vinegar, onions, red wine vinegar, white vinegar, honey, liquid smoke, Worcestershire sauce, chipotle peppers, sugar, brown sugar, mustard, lemon juice, salt, garlic, cumin, soy sauce, jalapeno peppers, chile arbol, black pepper, onion powder, and spices

Smell: It smells warm and sweet, with a tanginess that tickles the nose a little, but I can’t imagine something like this being very hot, and I don’t think it will be. It’s a complex smell, but a very recognizable BBQ smell at the same time. I can look at that list of ingredients and visualize about half of them as I sniff the contents of the bottle. The tomato, the garlic, the mustard, the smoke, and the brown sugar stand out especially well.

Appearance: The sauce appears pretty glazy. Nothing really separates as you move it around, but it’s quite runny. There are sparse seeds, as well as some black pepper flecks and red strands of vegetable. The overarching color is a classic BBQ red-orange.

Taste: This sauce is powerfully sweet at first, with sweetening agents like molasses and brown sugar highlighting the generous garlic. After a few seconds, the tangy notes come out of the woodwork, the chiles, the lemon juice, the mustard, the vinegar. The smoke flavor also comes in at this point, and lingers with the tang and some light heat for quite a while. Although I was a bit alarmed and disheartened by the initial sweetness, I was happy with where the flavor ended up. I’m not sure what would make this different from many other traditional BBQ sauce/marinades, except that I do think a little more care was taken in the blending and proportion of ingredients than your typical grocery store brand.

Heat: Just a bit, middle of the tongue. I think it could be even better with a lot more intensity, but it also doesn’t need it. This is more of a flavor sauce, and I can accept that.

Overall: It’s pretty good, I’m feeling it. Not as ridiculously unique or elite as they would have you believe, but still an impressive showing of flavor. I can’t wait to get my rooftop grill up and running so I can use it appropriately. I marinated some chicken legs in it, baked them, and garnished the whole thing with some homemade salsa that I made the night before and was equally proud of. Twas a satisfying meal of BBQ goodness, indeed. I really want to try this stuff on ribs, beef or pork, it don’t matter.

Contact:
Gourmet Resources
3913 Todd Lane #213
Austin, TX, USA
512-326-2526
www.gourmetresources.net
gourmetresources@sbcglobal.net

First Impressions: Oddly reminiscent of an R.L. Stein Goosebumps book cover, particularly The Werewolf of Fever Swamp (#14) or You Can’t Scare Me (#15), Louisiana Swamp Scum’s label is campy and intriguing in the same way that the series of children’s horror novels used to be (I have since graduated to Fear Street). The sauce looks almost black, not to mention disgusting, but it’s totally supposed to look that way…its swamp scum!

Swamp Scum was clearly designed to look like something that had been dredged from the murky depths of the bayou. What worries me here is that I think they may have decided to call it Swamp Scum before creating the sauce, and then just pumped a bunch of food coloring into the product to fit a pre-conceived theme… Alright, really what I’m trying to say is that if the sauce purposely looks gross for the sake of its name, then it better be really freaking good for the sake of everyone!

Ingredients: Peppers, Vinegar, Salt, Molasses, Natural Flavoring, Caramel Color

Smell: I can’t say I’m crazy about the smell. It smells very smoky, which is weird because there is no mention of liquid smoke or smoked anything in the ingredients. Maybe some of the ambiguous “peppers” were chipotles, or maybe they put the sauce in a smoker for a while. Perhaps it’s not smoke, but there is a very strong, kind of sweet smell in there that isn’t all that appealing. I also detect vinegar and some slight heat.

Appearance: While it is appears a brown to black color inside the bottle, dribbled onto a plate Swamp Scum is a dark forest green. Thin it out a little bit and it the color of algae…hey, like in a swamp! The sauce is completely liquid but travels slower than water. There are no chunks or texture, but miniscule specks of red and green are visible under closer inspection.

Taste: Hmm…I don’t know about this one. Something overtakes my tongue right off the bat, still don’t know what, but I still think smoke flavor. I’m not opposed to smokiness, but whatever that is, there is way too much of it, and it tastes incredibly artificial. I always thought food coloring was flavorless…could this be what I’m troubled by? It might be too much molasses, as there is also a dull, misguided sweetness that blankets the palate. If not for these issues, I think this would be a rather traditional vinegar based cayenne sauce, akin to Frank’s, Pawleys Island Sunburn, Louisiana Supreme, etc.

Heat: The heat is mild. I’m feeling it a little in the back of my mouth and not anywhere else. I’d imagine real swamp scum isn’t too hot either.

Overall: I don’t like it. I am but one man. At least one of my roommates does like it. I think he said he likes using it as a utility sauce for dishes that require just a little heat and some sweetness. I decided to give it two fair shakes of a lamb’s tail on lamb burgers topped with bleu cheese. I chose this meal for two reasons. First, lamb is a meat that, like this sauce, was always inexplicably smoky to me. Also, I figured the pungent bleu cheese would cover up a good deal of the less flattering qualities of this sauce, but not subdue the mild heat. Both me and my luncheon companion thoroughly enjoyed our burgers and agreed that the sauce was an appropriate and agreeable accompaniment…so who knows, you might find some things you could really enjoy it on.

First Impressions: The front of the label seems ever-so-subtly psychedelic to me: there is some kind of desert scene appearing through a peripheral maze of wood-colored smoke. On the back, we see another image of a man, presumably Benito, sitting in a lawn chair in a river, feet submerged in the water. I want to imagine that this product was the result of a vision quest of some kind, inspired by the “Delectable Addiction” to hot sauce touted on the bottom of the label. 100% Organic. I am reminded of my first experience with an all organic “naranja” sauce, my first review actually, which didn’t go so well. This seems to have kept its color a lot better than the Mayanik did. It is bottled and served at a place in Caldwell, NJ called the Laughing Burrito. East Coast baby! I hope it represents my region well.

Ingredients: Orange habanero peppers, onions, carrots, garlic, tomatoes, bell peppers, distilled white vinegar, lime juice, extra virgin olive oil, spring water

Appearance: Woah…first I have to report on something that’s never happened before! The shit blew up on me! I opened it and all this pressure, along with all this sauce, busted out! And then I put it by the sink, where it proceeded to foam out of the bottle for a good 2-3 minutes! Is this even safe? Weird. Anyway…it’s very, very orange, light orange, almost neon, probably more a credit to the carrots than the habaneros. It’s a little chunkier than it looked in the bottle. I’ve said this about another sauce, but I’ll say it again, it looks a lot like a squash soup that one might make for a fall harvest dinner.

Smell: Benito’s smells extremely fresh, like if you were walking through someone’s vegetable garden when everything was starting to ripen. The bell peppers, the tomatoes, and the onions are all quite discernable. And earthy carrot smell is also present, as is a hint of garlic.

Taste: This sauce is fun because you can really identify the individual components one after another when you place it on your tongue. I always thought of carrots as more of a filler and coloring agent, but in this sauce they really shine. As with the smelling, the other vegetables are potent and fresh, and it’s held together with a citrus-infused acidity of lime juice and vinegar. The flavor is not unlike a fresh salsa. The garlic is there, but I would actually like a considerable amount more of it. It could also use something salty, like salt. It comes across as a bit watery, or perhaps “watered down” is a more accurate characterization. I don’t think it needs thickening though, just the aforementioned additions. I guess another way to solve this problem would be to pair the sauce with a dish that is already heavy on garlic, salt, or other spices. In that sense, Benito’s is the perfect burrito sauce.

Heat: The heat is on the lower end of medium. It’s mostly sticking to the back of my tongue. Nothing impressive, but I like that there are absolutely no heat claims on the bottle. This appeases the heat gods, as well as the picky reviewer. Nobody’s gonna have trouble with the heat in this sauce, but it’s a yummy kind of spice nonetheless; it works with the whole salsa vibe I’m getting.

Addendum: I used it as a salsa on tortilla chips last night and the heat was more intense. Still nothing crazy, but if I was to put it up against some mainstream, store-bought salsas, it would probably get a “hot” rating.

Overall: I’d buy it. It’s fresh, it’s colorful, it’s different, it’s from New Jersey. I would like an explanation of that little explosion in the beginning, or maybe that was just a literal testament to the figurative explosive potential of this sauce. Maybe this particular bottle has a mind of its own and knew that it was about to get reviewed on the HSB, and you know, just had to do something memorable. So I blasted some Benito’s on a homemade fried tilapia soft taco (sorry, not a Laughing Burrito), and it was an excellent accoutrement. This could turn into a delectable addiction, indeed.

First Impression: I’m going to deviate a bit from my normal routine and just say up front that I am quite fond of this sauce. I do this now because this sauce is called Ass Murdering Hot Sauce. As such, I might say a few things in the course of this review that in other reviews would be considered negative, let alone distasteful, but ultimately I figure whoever makes or purchases a sauce called Ass Murdering Hot Sauce (or any rectal, fecal, or flatulent-themed sauces, for that matter) have a sense of [bathroom] humor and can appreciate the fact that, for instance, I was considering smearing this sauce on a piece of toilet paper for my stand-alone sauce picture (it’s a plate, I swear).

Very nice label. It’s colorful, and we also see a beautiful visual pun, whereby a donkey (ass) has been rendered dead (x-ed out eyes, gravestone, and all) by hot sauce. The pun defeats itself though, or perhaps strengthens itself depending on how you want to look at it, in that the ass’s ass is also ablaze. So in effect, the viewer is left with this paradoxical confusion as to thematic intent. That is to say, what are we murdering when we ingest this sauce, our asses or ourselves?

Ingredients: Lime juice (lime juice from concentrate, sodium benzoate, lime oil, sodium metabisulfite), jalapeno peppers, serrano peppers, Dijon mustard (water, vinegar, mustard seed, salt, white wine, fruit pectin, citric acid, tartaric acid, sugar, spice) garlic, habanero peppers, vinegar, molasses, olive oil, turmeric, [the kitchen sink…]

Appearance: You mean, besides the contents of an infant’s diaper? Oh, SNAP! Actually, if you can get past that last line, it’s actually a beautiful rich dark yellow, I believe Crayola called it maize. It’s almost golden. It’s thick and the texture is coarse, with little hard things interspersed about, probably a combo of chile and mustard seeds and maybe minced garlic.

Smell: Ha! The moment you’ve all been waiting for! Ass Murdering Hot Sauce smells like…garlic, primarily. Also, mustard, definitely. I don’t think a sauce can get this yellow without mustard playing a big role. Vinegar adds some acidic aroma which blends well with what I believe must be the lime. Maybe it’s the strong garlic, maybe it’s the flask-shaped bottle, but right now I’m reminded of the Pain is Good garlic offering, which used to be batch #37, may still be.

Taste: There are three very prominent flavors when I touch this sauce to my tongue: believe or not, the lime is the very first thing I taste. I’m thinking that the lime oil in the lime juice (see ingredients) might give the citrus that staying power. A few seconds after the lime, a very pungent, spicy garlic scourge sets in. The garlic is quickly elevated further by the distinctive mustard zest, which is both bold and warm somehow, possibly due to the sweetening effect of the molasses. I’m wondering if there are also cloves under the frustrating blanket term of “spice,” there is something mellow and comforting in there that I can’t quite place.

Heat: It’s pretty hot; I’d label it hot, but I think many would agree that they are exaggerating a bit for the sake of an admittedly very creative all-around sauce concept. The heat sets in in about 2-3 seconds and gradually builds into a moderately intense, mid to back-of-tongue sizzle (“Fa Shizzle,” as the label so eloquently articulates). I’m not really panting, certainly not sweating, and my nose has only a little fluidity. But it’s a pleasant, heat lover’s heat.

Now, in the interest of journalistic integrity, I’m afraid I do have to report, a day later, on the status of my ass: While it is not advisable, and certainly illegal, to harbor a living equine creature on a Harlem rooftop, we’ve been quartering a Harold, a donkey, for just over a month now (he was abandoned, it was Christmas). In the recent arctic blast, I figured this would be the perfect opportunity to mix some of this stuff into his oats; it would either stave off frostbite, or substantiate the claims on the bottle, so it was really a win-win. What happened? Harold is still alive, but suffering from a serious case of laminitis, a common donkey disease of the foot, often attributed to over-eating…so he must have really liked it! Just pray he gets better.

Overall: It’s great! Creative from both an artistic and culinary perspective. Not terribly impressed by the heat level (especially in respect to all the fanfare), but I think the intensity is perfect, in that it’s decently hot, yet does not mask the complex flavors. I baked this on top of chicken. For some reason the citrusy lime flavor was what really stood out, and to an extent the heat was baked away, but it was very good! And to answer the question I posed way earlier, clearly I am the ass that this sauce attempted to murder.

I know this is already a long review, but if you can bear with me a few more minutes, I have a few words, helpful I think, on hot sauce pairing. There are several approaches I take in picking the right sauce for the right food that have always worked out quite well for me. The first thing I usually think about is color. Like some people find with wine, I look at the color of my dish or my meat, and match it with a similarly hued hot sauce. This time, for instance, I took this approach and applied a golden sauce to a golden baked chicken. Another thing I like to do sometimes is to think regionally. For example, if I am making a Southwestern dish, I might look to a Southwestern-style sauce, or a sauce from the Southwest. Prominent ingredients are another way to make the call. Let’s say I have a dish that calls for lots of cinnamon (not that I encounter dishes like that very often, just hypothetical). Then I might scour my shelves for a sauce where cinnamon figures prominently (I might not have a sauce quite like that, but you get the point). The last approach I’ll mention, and it’s kind of obvious, which I’ve also heard applied to wine, is screw what anyone tells you, use the combination that works: do what you think tastes good!

AND…Happy Valentine’s Day ladies! Hope you like my habanero flower with the serrano stem! Sorry about the raw chicken, but seeing that flower burnt and shriveled-up might have sent the wrong message.

Contact:
Bisummo, L.L.C.
2146 E. Old Mill Dr.
Deltona, FL 32725
(407)592-3902
bisummo.com

First Impression: Certainly not impressed by the 1 oz. sample size, but free hot sauce is free hot sauce, can’t dock any points there. Kind of a generic name, Blazin-Hot, but sometimes these unassuming characters can surprise you. The label too is pretty humdrum; the “Blazin-Hot Sauce” text jumps out of what appears to be a flaming sunset backdrop, and that’s about it.

Appearance: A dark, charred almost, red. Very dark, reminds me of a steak sauce in both color and consistency: it’s markedly thick, hardly goes anywhere when I make the plate vertical. The texture is mostly smooth, interrupted every once in a while by some black pepper flakes and very small granulates of other matter.

Smell: Blazin-Hot smells a heck of a lot like a standard barbecue sauce, sweet and smoky, something that I could easily imagine slathered on ribs or briskets. The sweetness may be provided by molasses. I always sound like a broken record at this point, swearing by the presence of garlic and onions, but these are both pungent, easily detectable ingredients that just about everyone has a nose for, so I think it’s safe to say (without a list of ingredients) that they are in there. Towards the end of the sniff, you do get that hint of heat, indicating this might not be your grandma’s BBQ sauce.

Taste: Yum, this is a very good sauce! Wow, wow, wow. It’s not quite as sweet as say, K.C. Masterpiece, and it’s way tangier too. The most prominent initial flavor, which actually lingers along with the heat, is the black pepper. But there is enough soothing power from the tomato paste-garlic combo that even those who aren’t the biggest black pepper fans can appreciate it.

Heat: If you are just going for barbecue taste, and not heat, stay away! Consider yourself warned, wussy barbecue man or woman! This one packs a surprisingly heavy heat-punch! In fact, that is my favorite quality of this very solid sauce. Blazin-Hot provides an almost immediate full mouth (and throat) blanket. It isn’t on the level of what we might call a super extra hot, but there is enough scorch to induce a slow pant and a moderately runny nose. My tongue is decently numb, but not numb enough to mask the strong BBQ theatrics. I give this one a deserving “Hot.” It could be too intense for the more casual consumer.

Overall: I am enamored with this sauce. My roommates love it too. When we first tried it, we shared a moment of “Oh, hell yes!” This is a real winner for the heat-seekers’ BBQ palate. No complaints, as they clearly carried out a vision skillfully. I dribbled it all over a cheap London broil, and broiled it. A very simple dish, but I figured that’s all it needed to be: Blazin-Hot would provide any necessary flavor. On the meat, which I cooked rare and was surprisingly smooth to the cut, Blazin-Hot was divine. A ringing endorsement, go out and get this one!

Contact:
www.brandingironfoods.com
info@brandingironfoods.com

First Impression: How appropriate that I was reading Chile Pepper Magazine on the toilet the other day, as I find that more often than not it is my fascination with chile peppers that lands me there in the first place. Imagine reading a crime novel when you are on death row. Anyway, I was reading an article in this past October’s issue about the South Carolina Lowcountry where they dedicated a paragraph to Pawleys Island, and thought, hey, I’ve got their sauce! According to the official Pawleys Island website, the island is 4 miles long and 1 house wide; in other words, tiny. I am surprised they have a native hot sauce outfit at all with Wild Rooster, let alone a “Zesty Destination” restaurant in the Fish Camp Bar. The motto of Pawleys Island is “Arrogantly Shabby.” I am immediately jealous, as I wish I had thought of that first as my own motto. So I guess I’m “Just Shabby.”

Ingredients: Aged Cayenne Peppers, Vinegar, Salt, Habanero Peppers. No MSGs

Appearance: Liquidy, Sunburn flows fast, thankfully there is a–do we call these nipples?– nipple at the top, or one would dump the contents all over the place with one shake. A not so uncommon red-orange color, which is solid throughout; no chunks or floating debris of any kind.

Smell: It smells like vinegar, cayenne, and, and shoot…it smell’s like Frank’s Red Hot!

Taste: Sunburn tastes a lot like Frank’s or many other cayenne-heavy, vinegar-based, smooth-flowing sauces. I have a real cheap one called Louisiana Supreme that also comes to mind. I really cannot discern the habaneros in this one. All this aside, it’s good enough. I call this and ones like it a “utility sauce.” Sunburn is so generic that it’s actually quite versatile. Sometimes even us hot sauce freaks just want to relax a little. I am not always in the mood for out-of-control heat, super-pungent flavor, or distinctive gimmicks. Sometimes I just want shake a few drops of a tame sauce on an even tamer soup. If I were to put, say, that Scorch stuff on every egg, every casserole, every ice cream sundae, I would need a lifetime subscription to Chile Pepper, Fiery Foods, Gastrointestinal Assault Weekly, etc. just to sate my ever-expanding bathroom literary needs. Sometimes one needs a break from all the madness. In this sense, Sunburn can do it for you, though I’m sure a trip to Pawleys Island wouldn’t be half bad either.

Heat: It is not hot, nor does it necessarily claim to be. There are many degrees of sunburn, I suppose, and it’s not like they are calling it Skin Cancer. “It’ll heat your meat,” eh? Well, let’s put it to the test…

Overall: With a statement like “Made from the finest of Southern Scratch” on the bottle, I think Sunburn embodies the island motto quite well: Arrogantly Shabby. If I may once again quote the Pawleys Island website, the sauce, like the island, espouses “simple virtues and a lack of pretense.” A roommate summed it up differently: “I’ve had this sauce before.” Lately though, I’ve been thinking that being a full-fledged chilehead is more about finding crafty ways to play the sauce you are dealt than stumbling upon the perfect sauce for one’s own personal tastes. So what I did with this one was a bit over the top, but I think it’s a good example of how creativity can make delicious use out of even the most run-of-the-mill sauces. I wanted something that could burst at the seams with flavor, independent of the spicy lift offered up by the sauce, and I think it worked. So without further ado, I present to you:

Spicy Apple Malted Pork Chops with Mushroom Onion Glaze:

Pour about 12 oz. of malt liquor into a small deep dish cooking tray

Slice up an apple and float the slices in your malt liquor

Lay a few pork chops on top of that

Dump generous amounts of Pawleys Island Sunburn all over food

Sautee onions and mushrooms in butter until brown, adding salt and pepper to taste

Put onion mushroom mixture on top of chops

Roast for about ½ hour at about 360

Eat! And if you bought the full 40, looks like you have another 28 oz. to wash it down!

Contact:
Wild Rooster Sauces, LLC
Pawleys Island, SC 29585
800-380-1775
www.wildroostersauces.com

First Impression: Ah, nature’s bounty! Look at those infinite rows of luscious pepper plants, stretching clear to the snowcapped Rocky Mountains! One of the most picturesque, pastoral, plentiful scenes I have seen on a hot sauce bottle. Haven’t reviewed a green sauce yet, I’m excited. “Penrod Pepper Products has taken green sauce to a whole new level!” Oh my! I am more suspicious than impressed by the cactus heat-level indicator on the side, with an arrow pointed triumphantly at the very top of the spiny plant. I’m excited by the ingredients though, especially the cilantro.

Ingredients: Tomatillos, Jalapenos, Seranno peppers, Lime juice, Onion, Garlic, Cilantro, Vinegar, Salt, Herbs and Spices.

Smell: Hmm…not crazy about the nose on this one. It smells burnt almost, like imagine you were making pasta sauce and the heat was too high and some of it burned on to the bottom and clearly you didn’t scrape it off but you did salvage the rest of the sauce and it smelled a bit singed and you also never learned about run-on sentences. It also smells sweet and garlic-heavy.

Appearance: A healthy looking dark green, Jackson’s is grainy and travels as a unit during the famous plate-tilt test. There are occasional seeds and medium sized black flakes floating around.

Taste: Sweet, tangy…I don’t know if it’s so much burnt, but I’m still getting this weird off-smoky flavor that I’m just unsure about. I don’t know what’s creating it or if it’s all in my head. I’m not entirely sure what a tomatillo is, so maybe that’s just how they taste. I’m reminded of eggplants for some reason…hey, same family at least, Solanaceae. Thank you, Wiki. Someone suggested the garlic may be roasted, which could give it a more carbon-infused flavor. The garlic gets a shout out; it’s quite pronounced, doing its garlic thing. Cilantro is one ingredient that I feel is hugely underrepresented in this guy. Some people aren’t crazy about cilantro, but I think when it’s utilized properly it can really steal the show. In my experience, cilantro can bring an average salsa to a powerhouse of vibrant flavor and freshness. In this sauce I really didn’t taste the cilantro that I know and love. The taste is not bad, it’s certainly unique, but I’m reluctant to say the flavor would have mass appeal.

Heat: The claims about the heat of this sauce are some of the most egregious I’ve encountered to date. “HOT” in caps, the arrow at the top of the cactus, “green sauce to a whole new level” (if they meant heat), it’s all malarkey. I would be happy to drink an entire bottle of it and post the video to prove my point, if someone wants to send me another bottle. And this is not just old high heat threshold Brendan talking here, I’ve consulted family, friends, a lot of people about this. There is some heat, a quite dull blanket on the middle of the tongue and roof of the mouth, but c’mon, the intensity is closer to the roots than the canopy of that cactus. And to be fair, it’s not just Jackson’s, I think this is an industry-wide problem. I’m sure the argument goes that this “HOT” is an accurate and acceptable hot for the infrequent, indifferent heat-eater; but then one has to consider, how many infrequent, indifferent heat-eaters are purchasing specialty hot sauces? It’s not that you have to love insane heat to be into hot sauce, clearly, but you would certainly want a sauce to advertise its heat level properly. I’m willing to give some leeway for subjective tastes, among connoisseurs as much as anyone, but I’ve seen too many outrageous claims on bottles like this. I just wish there was a better way to do it.

Overall: I don’t know about this one, and honestly I’m still a little worked up about the heat thing. I put a bunch of it on a seafood pasta dish that I concocted, and it actually did give it a well-desired zesty lift. Jackson’s did seem a bit hotter when it was incorporated this way, but nothing to write home about (I always write my parents when I discover a really hot sauce). The garlic flavor held up well in the pasta, and the strong seafood aroma masked whatever the burny/eggplant/unknown flavor was. The taste is different, and if you are someone who likes to experience uncommon flavors in your hot sauce, then you may appreciate it. The bottle emphatically touts Jackson’s “Southwestern Flair,” so I think it deserves a chance on Southwestern food.

Contact Info:
Penrod Pepper Products, LLC
Brewed and bottled in Mesa, Arizona
Superspicy.com

First Impression: Paging Dr. Craig, paging Dr. Craig, we have a bland sweet potato emergency at the work Thanksgiving party! Please report to the lunch room, stat…stet? Stat? Where’s George Clooney when you need him…er, John Leguizamo- er John Stamos? ER fans, anyone? Yeah, me neither. I want to know what kind of doctor Craig Edward Wright (Dr. Craig) is…or does he just play one on TV? Google yielded no clues. And then I’m a bit confused as to the intent of the “Say Ahhhh!” on the label. Is that like a tasty, delicious “Ahhhh,” a sigh of relief “Ahhhh,” or a Dr. Jack Kevorkian “Ahhhh!” In that case I hope they taught Dr. Craig the Heimlich in med school. Well, he has piqued my curiosity, regardless. Thanks, doc!

I went to the website and was intrigued to find that Dr. Craig offers hot sauce fundraising opportunities for schools! Move over Gertrude Hawk [obscure Northeast Pennsylvania chocolate company reference], I’m going door to door with hot sauce! Love it!

Ingredients: Rice vinegar, habanero pepper, pineapple, onion, garlic, natural liquid smoke flavor, brown sugar, cornstarch, cayenne pepper, sodium benzoate, and potassium sorbate to extend freshness

Smell: Sweet and tangy, with a little smoke. I definitely get some vinegar, but the sharpness is mellowed out by the brown sugar. Onions, garlic, the usual suspects. It smells like this barbecue concoction we used to spray the chicken with at my church’s chicken BBQ. You know, that one? Well, it’s an indication to me that it should be a pretty good sauce.

Appearance: It’s like a shiny, drippy glaze. I want to spatter donuts with it. See-through orange in color. Red specks and strands throughout, and a little seed here and there.

Taste: Remarkably sweet, but the vinegar and very likely the pineapple provide enough tangy contrast that you don’t feel awkward about it. That is to say, it balances out quite well after a few seconds. There seems to be a lot of garlic flavor in there, which really compliments the sweetness quite well. I still think barbecue of some sort when I taste this stuff. I’ve been sitting here dabbing it into my mouth over and over again, and as far as straight tasting goes, I am still torn about the sweetness, kind of asking myself if I should really be into it or not. But I think I like it, I really do. Hot sauce sweet tooth? Guilty as charged, I suppose.

Heat: I do take issue with this being labeled “extra hot.” I think it’s a medium, and if medium were judged on a scale of 1-3 with 3 being hottest, this is about a 1.7. The heat is delayed quite a while, but it shows up eventually, not unlike a New York subway train. It never gets that hot, but it does linger for a while, right in the mid-tongue, which I think is my favorite heat-lounge. The heat has somewhat of a soothing presence…ahhhh.

Overall: Diagnosis, tasty! Good overall marks. Not the hottest thing in the world, but I don’t think that was ever the vision Dr. Craig had in mind. It’s a nice table sauce, perfectly safe for guests, but enough bite for the less hot sauce-inclined to say “Hey now!” It’s a good family sauce, a friendly general practitioner of hot sauce goodness.

Oh, I used it on sweet potatoes! I saw it had brown sugar in it, I needed brown sugar for sweet potatoes, and the real brown sugar I had had solidified into a brick. So I whipped up some Dr. Craig’s-infused mashed sweet potatoes and brought them to work, for our own little Thanksgiving feast [reference way above]. I actually had to dump a lot more on my own portion to taste it, but the result was very good, on turkey too! Go ahead and schedule an appointment, I think he’s taking new patients.

Contact:
MFD. by Bobbees Bottling
Louisburg, N.C. 27549
www.doctorcraigs.com

First Impressions: A couple mango-habanero couples are lounging quietly on a pristine tropical beach. And then some spike-haired, jittery little freak with a surfboard comes along and…ohhh, that’s just Surfguy…OH NO, it’s Surfguy, he’s gonna make a sauce out of you! Run! Run for your lives!!! Needless to say, they didn’t listen, but here we have a unique little sauce on our hands. The bottle informs us that the sauce is “As sweet as your first girlfriend, as mean as poodle.” Now, I don’t think a hot sauce review is the appropriate place to air romantic grievances, but I have heard poodles are mean…but I also can’t really say I’ve ever encountered a poodle in real life. If they are mean, I don’t blame them…you’d be mean too if someone sculpted your butt hair into beacon orbs of wuss-dom! Who was the first person to think, “Man, this is a great a breed we’ve developed here, but you know what would make it even better? If we stapled Kooshballs to its ass!” I’ve heard dalmatians are nasty as well; if anyone has any poodle or dalmatian horror stories, please enlighten us. Maybe all they need is some hot sauce… I think I want to market an excruciatingly hot hot sauce designed for unruly dogs and call it “Obedience School.” And there could be heat levels of “Sit,” “Lie Down,” and “Play Dead,” and I guess you just mix it in with their food or something.

Back to task. I was initially a little worried about the short list of ingredients, but I like the idea of mixing tropical fruit with peppers. Mango seems like a good idea for such a venture, as I find the fruit itself sweet and tasty, but also mild-mannered (I think that sounds nicer than bland) enough to let other flavors shine. And if you’ve ever suffered through a hot curry dish, you know that the mango lassi is an effective fire-extinguisher. That probably has a lot more to do with the yogurt, but still, I have that association of mango with comfort…regardless of whatever heat they throw at you, mango is your Bob Marley, assurance that every little thing is gonna be alright.

Ingredients: Mango, habanero, vinegar, spices, garlic, and salt

Appearance: [slightly runnier] McDonald’s Sweet and Sour Sauce. Done.

Smell: It smells tangy, it smells real tangy. Some vinegar, but nothing offensive. I want to say onion, but unless onion powder is under the umbrella of “spices” then my olfactory intuition is just a little off tonight. Some garlic, and a warm, inviting sweetness.

Taste: It does have a real sweet and sour feel to it, with moderate heat to boot. Tangy. The two headlining ingredients have a well-balanced relationship, whereby the habanero has a good zing-a-fying effect on the mango, which I have always found to be a refreshing, but rather dull fruit, and the mango tames any attempts at crazy heat put forth by the habanero. I find it hard to believe that there are no additional sweetening agents in this sauce (unless they too count as spices), because I think ultimately the sweetness of the mango is the gem that brings this sauce over the threshold from so-so to quite pleasant in an unpredictable way. This one isn’t gonna come at you with a whole lot of complexity as far as flavor is concerned, but the taste is cohesive and agreeable.

Heat: In an exemplary gesture of heat-gauging, Surfguy has labeled this sauce MED. I couldn’t agree more. It’s lip smacking hot; it’s not run to the fridge for liquid relief hot, or find yourself breathing all weird hot, but still, it’s got some oomph. It’s never out of control, but I can definitely see more casual hot sauce users being taken off guard by the intensity. For more weathered chileheads, any initial burn very quickly subsides. Again, I have no poodle standard by which to corroborate the claims on the bottle, but if poodles are the terrors that they would have us believe, I would say that this poodle is safe to take for a walk, as long as you fit it with a muzzle.

Overall: Like it. No big qualms. One might find it a bit limiting in its applications, but that being said, the exotic nature of the mango-habanero combo lends itself to even more creative serving ideas. For some reason I got the idea to use it as a condiment on a hot dog. I think I’ve seen this before. There is a chain of restaurants and rip-off restaurants with a similar name to “Papaya Dog” around here; I’m not sure if they really put tropical fruit on their food because I’ve never eaten there, but I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere. And I always get mangos and papayas confused. (Papaya=those gooey black seeds, and bigger) Oh, maybe it was all that poodle talk that got me thinking about dogs. Regardless, I actually bought sweet turkey sausage…get some more of that Thanksgiving spirit going. And I got a mango.

Dice mango. Fry sausage and mango in mixture of olive oil and Surfguy Mango-Habanero. Once sausage is all cooked and mango looks soft (this is also good if you get unripe mango because it seems to bring out the sweetness), put sausage in bun and mango on top. Drizzle more Surfguy on top of that. SO good, my favorite so far! The sweet and tangy mango flavor with a perfect amount of heat really made this sausage into a delightful meal.

p.s. I have since learned that Papaya Dog restaurants and other like-minded Papaya-themed hot dog eateries do NOT, in fact, serve fruit on their hot dogs.

SURFGUYS SURF SCHOOL
PO BOX 510633
Melbourne Beach, Florida 32951
Phone: (321) 956-3268
1-866-SURFGUY (787-3489)
Fax: (321) 728-3481