Chasing delights
When you move to a new place for a while, there’s a real sense that you need to satisfy all of your quiet, needless desires. As much as they are simple creature comforts that take you back home for a moment, they serve to remind you of your identity in a place where you don’t really feel like you have one. The things that differentiate you from your surroundings are brought into strong relief, and the more typically “home” they are, the more the feeling of comfort becomes a feeling of pride.
Germans don’t tend to go for spicy stuff. Sure, they’ll top off their döner with the standard white-bowl dried pepper mix on the counter, but I find there is very little emphasis on spicy foods beyond a polite nod to Asian cuisine with some mild curry pastes and scharf gewürzig sauces. I dare not climb too high on my horse — I’ve been wrong about regional food diversity before — but it’s hard to overlook feeling overlooked as part of the demographic that likes a little mouth-fanning, cringing, and the occasional sense of regret during defecation.
I had been meaning to for some time, but the other day I finally picked up my first sauce. “Wild Africa Zulu Fire Sauce.” It was sitting among other sauce-related items, many of them reportedly spicy, under a big sign that said “Discount! Prices Cut! Must Sell!” I was encouraged by the apparent disinterest in the products; perhaps they were too spicy for the deutsche palate? I spent a long time trying to decide on which bottle would offend my mouth the most, and decided on the Zulu. It’s pictured on the Left.
Pretty fierce, right? Right on the bottle, it says “extra spicy.” And it’s got zebra stripes!
But what’s on the inside? The ingredients list follows: Water, vegetable oil, sugar, mango-chutney (sugar, mango chunks, vinegar, salt, chili, ginger, garlic), paprika, carrots, 3% cumin, mustard (water, mustard seeds, brandy vinegar, salt, sugar, spices with flour), emulsifier (milk proteins, curry, thickening agents, starch, xanthan, coriander, nitrium glutimate, etc etc, colors, etc.
That’s a lot of junk thrown in there. I guess it’s to be expected from a commercial sauce. I don’t think they’re trying to win any awards.
Standing next to it in the picture, a belligerent few millimeters taller, you see another offering, which I found in an Iranian gourmet food shop. “Encona Caribbean West Indian Original Hot Pepper Sauce.” It didn’t take me long to get really excited about this one. Ingredients? Pepper mash (Habanero, scotch bonnet, salt, acetic acid) 64%, water, acetic acid spices (including mustard), salt, modified corn starch, stabiliser: xanthan gum.
Two really hot peppers head up the ingredients list. I snatched the bottle and headed home immediately to make scrambled eggs and toast.
Lets have a word about presentation. 
On the left again, is the Zulu Fire. Honestly, it looks more like a fire retardant than a spicy sauce. It was thick like a peanut sauce, little black flecks, and a predominating aroma of cumin. Let me mumble under my breath that it smelled pretty unappetizing, like the dishwater after washing up after an Indian dinner. For everything they threw into it, it looks a little boring. It’s breen. It’s taking all the left-over paint and throwing it into a single paint can.
To the right, gleaming like a hot jewel, is the Encona, with visible chunks of chilis, a brilliant orange corona, and a thick, consistent distribution. It reminded me of some of the better sauces I tried at Brendan’s, with a scent that clawed at the upper two-thirds of your nasal passages. Sharp and tart, sweet, and slightly irritated at you for smelling it.
I can only say so much about the taste of Zulu. I put it on a sandwich with some cold cuts, a slice of cheese, and dark bread and ate it. Folks, in Africa, zebras are the prey. The sauce ruined my sandwich, and sat in my stomach for the rest of the night, reminding me with cumin-flavored burps how much it sucked. Granted, I used it in a pretty unappetizing way, and perhaps my expectations were too high. It tastes like it would make a good sauce for grilling or even marinating chicken. Shrug.
There was a bit more fanfare with the Encona. I threw together 3 eggs worth of scrambled eggs, threw in some pieces of Maasdamer cheese, and put the lot on some white toast. The eggs were coated liberally, generously, even lovingly. I didn’t bother to take pictures because I was too hungry, and it looked too delicious.
The heat went straight for the back of my throat, and coated my mouth pretty quickly with a stabbing tanginess. The flavor was deep, and rich, almost as though you took the deep earthiness of a fresh mushroom and inverted it sensorially. Munching through my eggs, the heat was consistent, attention-grabbing, and delightful. It’s nothing that might illicit an endorphin rush, and it wouldn’t stun a seasoned chili-head, but would make an excellent go-to sauce that would spend a lot of time at the table.
Yes, delight in very hot foods sets me apart from much of my surroundings. I am really happy with this new sauce, and this new store.
Good morning USA, have a good Wednesday.
