This comes from the desk of the wife:

Just like any addiction, a hot sauce addiction is a very serious matter. If the addict doesn’t get his fix he can make life unpleasant for those around him. And the addiction is not so much a love as it is an obsession. For five years now I have lived with an extreme hot sauce addict. He clutters the house with hot sauce bottles and gets offended when I suggest he has too many. And he can become downright hostile if his hot sauce collection is tampered with. I swear, if he weren’t my husband, I would have been out the door a while ago.

Of course, the addict doesn’t necessarily think he has a problem. Denial is a complimentary defense mechanism that addicts incorporate into their lives. I’ve lost count of how many times I have reminded my husband that he has an addiction- not a “passion.” When hot sauce bottles are enshrined in fire-proof, shatter-proof shiny glass display cases, you know you are living with a fanatic.

Ordinary activities become more precarious when you share your home with an addict. Opening the refrigerator now requires some dexterity since there are hundreds of bottles balanced on the shelves and jammed in the condiment section on the back of the door. And “normal” condiments have been replaced with insanely spicy versions- atomic mustards, peppery ketchup, and fiery salsas. I can’t have an ordinary hamburger with Hunts Ketchup and French’s Yellow Mustard- I have the sole options of Ketchfire Ketchup and Mad Anthony’s Fiery Hot Mustard.

As if it weren’t bad enough that hot sauce has taken over the kitchen and refrigerator, we now have replaced decorative art with the hot sauce bottle. Of course, an addict will argue that hot sauce IS decorative art, and he will find nothing wrong with the bottles perched on the dressers, bookshelves and windowsills. Even the nightstand has a tiny bottle on top, right next to the alarm clock.

The walls are adorned with posters of hot sauce bottles and chile peppers. If Van Gogh had painted a picture of a hot sauce bottle it would hang above our couch.
But the most embarrassing part of living with a hot sauce addict is the “hot-sauce-in-the-pocket” ritual. If eating food is involved, the addict will always have a bottle in his pocket. I am embarrassed to go to restaurants, and not just because my hubby is a sloppy eater. It just doesn’t say “sexy” when he pulls out two bottles, one from each pocket, and places them on the table at a fancy restaurant. When he discovered plastic mini bottles of sauce, he nearly fainted - until he realized he would have to pocket 5 of them in order to have enough sauce for his meal.
Being forced to eat fiery foods drenched with hot sauce is not wonderful, either. Sometimes I like the flavor of my food- as is! I don’t always need to pour chipotle-flavored sauce over my lemon chicken. And I have given up on cooking for my husband. Nothing is hot enough or tasty enough. I could make a divine meal flavored to perfection and it has an unwanted hot sauce coating before we even take a bite.

One good thing about living with a hot sauce addict is that it makes gift shopping a lot easier. The only thing you worry about is deciding which hot sauce to buy for him.

He drives me crazy, but his addiction makes him who he is. I never asked for my life (and my house) to be overrun by hot sauce, but I am glad it has added a little flavor to my life. I know he won’t change- there’s no Hot Sauce Anonymous Club (and if there were, I’m sure hot sauce would be celebrated, not outlawed). And there is no cure- no pill could alleviate his need for flavor. I will continue to tolerate his addiction. And he’ll continue to reach for the bottle.

~ The Wife of a Hot Sauce Addict