Dearest readers,
I feel I have to be honest with you. I am one of… those people. One of those people hopelessly obsessed — consumed with burning passion, you might say — for that condiment they call Sriracha. I put it on sandwiches, veggies, mac and cheese — in dips and salsas — on eggs, pasta, burritos, pierogis. Squeeze a little dab on every cracker, to go along with a slice of cheese or some hummus. Mix it with ketchup to create the Greatest Condiment Known to Man. Test out a new recipe that turns out terrible? Nice long squirt of Rooster Sauce’ll fix that up in a jiffy.
Sriracha is so awesome it has its own cookbook. Two, actually. Its own devoted, creepily cult-like fandom. Its own documentary.
The secret? This only explains half of it, but Sriracha, unlike every other hot sauce, it actually tastes good. Not just good; delicious. I can’t explain the other half, but it must have something to do with microscopic Chili Pepper Fairies in every bottle. It’s the only logical conclusion.
Sometimes I see the bottle in the fridge and can’t stop myself — sometimes there’s no time to find something to put it on. Only enough time to put it in… -to my face. It may be approaching “I have a problem” territory, except Sriracha is a super-cheap fix, really. And it’s actually pretty good for you, relatively speaking. So I’m not sure if it could ever be a real problem.
Well, if I start bathing in it you should probably call the authorities.
Sriracha, you are magic and you make my life complete.