Las Vegas Part I: Respect the Protein!

As you all know, meat is on the menu!  However, if you are the person cooking, you have to respect the protein.  I mean, why would you buy Kobe or Wagyu beef at $30 or more per pound to cover it up with gravy or A-1?  But I am also a realist. I know that the secret for making food taste better is by the thoughtful application of spices and/or sauces.  And sometimes, you just gotta have gravy.  Mmmmmmmmm…….gravy.

Look, my favorite lunch place is Emperor’s Kitchen, just across the street from the Federal Building, on Larkin Street. 

The front window is dominated with the prices of the one, two, or three item lunch plates, each served with your choice of steamed, fried, or brown rice, or chow mein. The meat is swimming in delicious sauce.  In reality, it could be any cut of meat (from just about any critter) because it is fried and tasty.  No pretenses here.  Just big tasty-guilty pleasure.

My all time favorite is General Tsao’s Chicken*.

I wanna serve under this General!

*According to Wikipedia, General Tso's chicken (sometimes Governor Tso's chicken, General Gau's chicken, General Tao's chicken, General Tsao's chicken, General Tong's chicken, General Tang's chicken or simply General's Chicken) is a sweet, slightly spicy, deep-fried chicken dish that is popularly served in North American Chinese restaurants. The dish was unknown in China and other lands home to the Chinese diaspora before it was introduced by chefs returning from the United States. The dish is named after General Tso Tsung-tang, or Zuo Zongtang, a Qing dynasty general and statesman, although there is no recorded connection to him. The real roots of the dish lie in the post-1949 exodus of chefs to the United States. The dish is reported to have been introduced to New York City in the early 1970s as an example of Hunan cooking, though it is not typical of Hunanese cuisine, which is traditionally very spicy and rarely sweet. The dish was first mentioned in The New York Times in 1977.

“DON’T CONFUSE ME WITH THE FACTS, MY MIND’S MADE UP” HEALTH ALERT!

A typical restaurant serving of General Tso's chicken may include up to 1,300 calories, 11 grams of saturated fat and 3,200 milligrams of sodium  as well as exceed 300 mg of cholesterol. This one dish may exceed a person's entire daily recommended sodium intake, half of the recommended caloric intake and 1/3 to 1/2 of the recommended saturated fat limit. One serving will typically be about 4 oz. (approximately 100 grams) of chicken thigh meat which contains 20-30 grams of protein, greater than 30% of the daily recommended niacin needs and over 15% of the recommended B6, phosphorus and zinc needs. 

HELLO!!…JUST DON’T EAT IT EVERY DAY!

Where was I?  Oh yeah, while in Las Vegas on Sunday evening, we had dinner at Bobby Flay’s Mesa Grill, located in Caesar’s Palace Hotel.  I have had lunch or dinner there at least four times, and I liked it a lot.  I have enjoyed the Smoked Duck and Sweet Potatoes, Cornmeal Crusted Chile Relleno (Roasted Eggplant + Manchego Cheese, Sweet Red Pepper Sauce + Balsamic Vinegar), New Mexican Spiced Pork Tenderloin Sandwich (Grilled Red Onion, Arugula, Ancho Chile Mayonnaise + Southwestern Fries), and the 22 Oz Bone In Chipotle Glazed Rib-Eye.

This time, I ordered the Cascabel Chile Crusted Rabbit (Toasted Chile Cous Cous, Almonds, Currants + Smoked Red Pepper Sauce).  Here’s a photo:

Unfortunately, it was less than memorable.  Rabbit is similar in taste and texture to dark-meat chicken, so I was putting my faith in the preparation.  The meat was super tender but not flavorful.  The sauce, however, was very sweet and overpowering.  The best thing about the plate was the cous-cous (there, I said it…I enjoyed the textures and flavors of the cous-cous.  In this instance, I would have preferred a big plate of cous-cous to the rabbit.  Sigh…).   Out of the four of us dining that night (all of whom have eaten there together many times), three out of the four of us felt our individual entrees did not compare to our previous  meals.  I guess we need to bid adieu to Mesa and Bobby.

The verdict:  They did not respect the protein.

On Monday night, we went to Raku, a Japanese Charcoal Grill off of the Las Vegas Strip.  Raku was recently featured in Sunset Magazine and also received 4.5 stars on Yelp.  So we gave it a whirl.  Think of it as a “Japanese Tapas Restaurant,” where you order small dishes to share.  The dishes trickled out of the kitchen as each of them are prepared fresh.  Here is a sampling of what we had:

Pork Intestine (yes, I said INTESTINE)

Grilled Asparagus Wrapped in Bacon

Portabello Stuffed with Ground Chicken

Duck with Balsamic Soy Sauce

Agedashi Tofu.

You haven’t had tofu until you have had fresh tofu.  In the preparation, it is deep fried and then placed in the flavorful dashi broth.  The broth had tiny mushroom caps and chopped scallions, and the texture was creamy.  Yes, I also ate tofu, but in keeping with my philosophy it was not a main dish.

Each dish was carefully prepared, and all of the flavors were balanced.  Nothing was too sweet, or too salty, or overpowered by one specific taste.  Definitely an inspiration.

Stay tuned for Tuesday and Wednesday night’s dinner….

Viva Las Vegas...live from the Strip!

Well....at least I still got cigars!  Food reviews are forthcoming, so hang in there.

Easter dinner...not like what my mother made.

Well, my mom is in Germany with my sister and brother-in-law, and the oldest son returned to Santa Cruz.  There was only the three of us for dinner, plus my cooking buddy Bill (the "donater" of the "manifest destiny" recliner I used during the pig roast), his wife Sue, and friend Katherine and her son, Clayton.  No one wanted ham, and I decided that whatever I made I would cook on the propane BBQ.  I decided to make tacos.

Yeah, I know...you probably never figured that I would have a propane grill (I did some fall cleaning/purging and now only have three charcoal grills), but propane does serve a purpose.   Did I mention the propane grill has six burners and has 2 propane tanks?

Bill (pictured above)  and I rescued this bad boy from the trash heap, rebuilt the leg supports, degreased the innards, and replaced all the rotted sheet metal inside. It is the perfect heat source for some 17" skillets.  Please note the ever-vigilant resident food thiefs Josie and Vlad waiting for a hand out, or the opportunity to steal some tasty bits from the grill.

 The skillet on the left has pork marinated in onions, spices, achiote paste, and pineapple.  The other dish is chicken.

Tortillas were heated on the griddle.

Next, the garlic Tilapia was cooked.

It was all good.  Please note that we are not  BBQ amateurs, and are not known for dropping food meat on the ground or randomly flinging edible bits about the yard or kitchen.   No snacks for the pups tonight.

Have you ever seen a more disappointed dog?  I guess I would look just as sad if I only had kibble 24-7, especially when it's taco time.

Happy Easter!

Meat.....a perfectly acceptable substitute for tofu.

-If we aren't supposed to eat animals, then why are they made out of meat? 

Meat's back on the menu.  Not that it ever went away on my menu, but I am proclaiming my love for animal parts.

Tasty. Animal. Parts.

I know, someone out there will be offended by my post, and start spouting off about how unhealthy meat is, that meat is "murder,"  that farmed animals live horrible lives, processing plants are cruel and torturous, etc, etc, wah wah wah, boo hoo...The reality is that I have made the decision not to clutter up my conscience with this issue.  If meat was good enough for the men who forged this great nation, then why would I, a mere sentient being in the great American lumpenproletariat, attempt to think that I know better than, let's say, the father of this great nation, George Washington.  Case in point:

 In the picture above, George is is freezing his cojones off in Valley Forge (my 6x great grandfather, Tobias Maybee, served with GW at Valley Forge).  You and I both know, they ate meat, and lots of it.  Battles were not won, and winters were not survived, by men who ate quinoa (pronounced keen-wah).

Come on, admit it.  You know that our patriot forefathers did not even contemplate eating a anything that remotely resembled the "harvest of shame" you see above.  And how do I know they ate meat? Let's take a look at the kitchen at Washington's Valley Forge headquarters:

Please note the roasted chicken, a ham, and what looks surprisingly like a bundt cake in the open oven door.  Sure, there are apples on the table, which are probably destined for fritters, apple pie, or distilled into applejack.  Oh yeah, there is a big ol' basket of taters on the floor. Taters are the perfect accompaniment to meat. 

You know, George was asked whether he wanted to the first king of America, but he wisely chose to be the President.  

Why? 

It's obvious to me.  He anticipated a future time when his progeny and those of our forefathers would live in a society wherein the tyranny of vegetarianism and the oppression of whole grains and other plant matter would be foisted on an unassuming public as an acceptable main dish, all in the name  of  "health" and "protecting our children."  Instead, he offered a subtle yet scathing rebuke of those individuals that emulated the dictatorial and paternalistic "European ruling elite,"  and, instead, founded a nation wherein the common individual could make choices and chart his or her own path to destiny, fueled on by carbs and animal flesh.  Despite the misguided beliefs of people that somehow think they know what is best for us (just look at NY and the ridiculousness of regulating sodas, etc), George's unwavering example of free will lives on to this day in buffets all across this great nation, where all-you-can-drink sodas, piles of fried chicken, and hundreds of variations of potato products remind us that we are a nation of free thinkers (and eaters).

And while we are talking about meat, the Hobart corporation makes some of the best meat friendly equipment around. Sure, you can buy all your meat prepared by the store, but if you read my first few posts, you will realize how I feel about dealing with the whole product, not just what a retailer puts on styrofoam and under Saran Wrap.   Below are photos of my Hobart 4212 grinder.  A stainless steel and bakelite Art Deco beauty that can grind 20 pounds of meat a minute. 

The "beast" weighs about 100 lbs.  Compare it to the largest Kitchen Aid mixer:

Another excellent product is the Hobart Steakmaster.  It tenderizes or "cubes"  beef, pork, or poultry (check out Josie, the sneaky-ass dog, looking for an opportunity to hork some beef):

These former chuck steaks are destined for fajitas, chicken fried steak, stir fry, and Swiss steak:

Although it was 10:30 p.m. when I started playing with the machine, I decided to make a cheese steak.  I sliced a cube steak into strips and sauteed it up with some Worcestershire sauce:

I added mushrooms and onions, put it on some dark rye with Swiss cheese, and grilled it in the pan until the cheese melted (ok, onions and mushrooms may be considered vegetables, but they are not a main dish, but rather, an accessory to the main dish).  



 MMMMMMMM...sure beats the pants off of a Brussels sprout sandwich:

I think George would agree, and that's good enough for me!

Burgers, the Big Game, Booze, Beef, Banned....BUMMER!

Background:  As some of you know, I don't give a rat's ass about organized sports.  I have been to less than a dozen football and baseball games ever, and I don't have any plans to do so in the near or distant future.  However, I certainly love a good Superbowl party. And what's not to love? Food, booze, good company, the commercials, and, occasionally, something interesting between the two competing teams.

A few years ago, Bruce B., one of my Las Vegas traveling companions, invited me to attend the "Big Game" party at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas ("Big Game" is a euphemism for "Super Bowl."  If you use the name "Super Bowl," the NFL wants licensing fees, etc).  As the National Firearms Industry Show opened the next day, and I planned to be there, I accepted his offer.  Needless to say, Caesar's did not disappoint. Bruce got passes to the  "highest roller" room.   Big screens covered the walls.  There was a well stocked open bar.  The food offerings included stations serving pulled pork sandwiches, hot wings, a taco bar, and one that had an assortment of sausages.  In addition to the dessert table, they had Dove ice cream Bars.  All. you. wanted.  Even the greeters at the doors, young ladies in referee and cheerleader costumes, were, as you might say, "top drawer."

So, when Bruce asked if I wanted to accompany him and Rob (another Las Vegas compatriot) to the "Big Game" party at the Atlantis Resort and Casino in Reno, I said YES. The only caveat was that I had to eat what they ordered for me at lunch and dinner. I agreed.  And in the ensuing 36 hour road trip I experienced Burgers, the Big Game, Booze, Beef, Banned, and BUMMER....here's the entire story:

Burgers: We left the Bay Area at about 8:30 a.m., and headed over the Altamont towards Sacramento.  At hour 2.5, we stooped at a Starbucks in Colfax for coffee.  Less than an hour later, we were in Truckee, California, where we dined at Burger Me, a small burger joint that features locally sourced ingredients. It has been featured on Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives. I had the Truckee Train Wreck, a 1/3 lb burger topped with cheddar, turkey chili, onion rings, and a fried egg.  It was mighty tasty.

The only questionable moment came when the nice lady at the counter asked if I wanted it served  on a "whole wheat" bun.  I reminded her that the brave young men that stormed the beaches at Normandy and were lucky enough to survive and return home were not offered the option of a "whole wheat " bun when they enjoyed the most American of foods, the burger.  They never considered "whole wheat"  and "burger" in any combination.  Maybe that's why they are called "The Greatest Generation." Sheesh!

The Big Game:

I immediately knew that the crowd at the Atlantis was going to be different than that at Caesar's. In reality, it was a "Larry the Cable Guy - Get 'er done" crowd.  Mullets, skullets (bald on top, party in the back), ladies in "fashionably ripped" t-shirts, too many visible BAD tattoos, missing teeth, etc.  These attributes alone (or in combination) don't make someone a bad person.  But couple it with FREE booze and food, and people just go buck wild.  Lots of cursing and TMI conversations.  The food was nothing of note (chili, big hot dogs, some kind of roast beef and rolls, hot wings, some salads).  Yet, people not only tore it up big time, but even stockpiled plates of hot dogs and starch on their tables, which they carried to their rooms after the game.

SNOB ALERT!!

Booze:

I went to the bar and ordered Bourbon.  The bar tender took a large clear plastic glass (about 16 ounces), poured 2 shots over the ice, and asked what I wanted with my Bourbon.  I replied "Bourbon."  He looked puzzled and repeated the question.  I repeated my answer.  The bar tender promptly filled my glass up, still looking puzzled. As I walked away, it occurred to me that he was asking what kind of non-booze mixer I wanted him to add.  In my mind, Vodka is for mixing, and Bourbon is for sipping, sans soda pop.  SHEESH!

BTW, it was a good ball game.  Almost makes a person want  to go see a real game...ALMOST.

Beef:  

I avoided the "Big Game" buffet and saved room for dinner. We dined at the Atlantis Steak House. We started off with a Bombay Sapphire martini.  The picture says all there is to say.

My entree came with a salad.  If you read my prior post, you know how I feel about salad.  It was there, so I ate it.  Any nutritional value in the salad was going to be obliterated by the entree:

36 ounce "Cowboy Cut" bone-in rib eye.  36 ounces of beefy joy.  Bovine Nirvana.  It 

was perfectly seared on the outside, tender and juicy.  A real primal cut of meat.  Served with button mushrooms. After the third bite, the shreds of lettuce that I previously ate were cowereing in the corner of my stomach, begging for mercy.  Did I finish it?

You betcha I did.  First of all, one does not indulge in a mega-protein meal with plans of taking some of it home afterwards, especially when staying in a hotel four hours away from home.  Plus, this was a challenge, and to fail would call my gustatory prowess into question.  So, I did what needed to be done.   I am a grown-ass man. 

Carpe Diem:  Seize the moment!

Banned:
On the way home, enroute to South Lake Tahoe, I received a phone call from one of my doctors in response to an email I had sent a few days before.  We discussed the issue at hand, and together we decided to change up my roster of medications. As she told me about dosing and possible side effects, she mentioned that until further notice I was not to have any  caffeine or alcohol.  I thanked her for her time and guidance, and ended the call.

Then it hit me... SHE JUST TOLD ME THAT I COULD NO LONGER HAVE ANY ALCOHOL OR CAFFEINE.

 NO. BOOZE. OR. CAFFEINE.  None.  Zip.  Zero.  Bupkus.  Jack squat.

No Bulliet, or Cazadores, or Maker's Mark, or beer, or wine, or Jack Daniels, or vodka, or Bloody Mary's, or Scotch, or Peet's, Starbucks, or Philz..and no Jaegermeister.  I mean, for chrissakes, why no Jaegermeister?  It's practically medicine, as it heals the  soul and settles the stomach.  And how am I gonna live without coffee? Or diet Coke?

SHEESH!  SHEE-IT!

Bummer:

I enjoy like love booze.  And coffee.  This is going to be a big change.  It looks like caffeine can slowly work its way back into my regimen at some future date.  But booze, if allowed, will have to be in minuscule amounts, as the medicine can impact alcohol clearance and tolerance in the liver, thus leading to the type of alcoholism that affects people without the proper enzymes to effectively metabolize alcohol.  Not a risk that I need to take.  Probably do me some good to lay off the two for a while.

At least I still have cigars.  And bacon.  Mmmmmmmmm....bacon.

Hope springs eternal.

Rant: It's all about the food....

I like to cook…but I am not a chef.  “Chef” is a term that is bandied about too freely, a label that is used by far too many people, even those that appear on (gasp!!) THE FOOD NETWORK™. 

There, I said it. 

There are less real chefs out there than what people think. And it is not a put-down.  There is nothing wrong with being a good cook.  Think about the best meal you shared in someone’s home.  Any number of things may have contributed to your memories.  It may been the ingredients, the care in which they were prepared, the presentation of the dish, or the company in which it was enjoyed.  Without hesitation, I will guarantee the person who made it is not a chef.  Your grandma may make the greatest lasagna, your cousin may smoke a mean rack of ribs, and you may make a great plate of nachos, but that does not make any of you a “Chef.”  Does grandma know her basic sauces?  Does your cousin know how to properly fillet and prepare a dozen types of fish?  Can you properly cook a steak or chicken without having to cut into it to see if it is done?  If you answered no to any of these, you are not a “Chef.” (FYI:  I don’t know any of that crap either.  That’s why I am not a chef.)  BTW, if you mix your salt and pepper together to make it easier when cooking, you definitely are not a chef, and may not even qualify to be called a “cook.”

While I am on a rant, I am not a “Foodie.”  What seemed to be an innocent enough term a few years ago now evokes less-than-positive emotions in me.  You see, “Foodie” has become “Douche-y.”  Want an example?  On the local PBS station, they have a show where three “ordinary” folks (“Foodies”)  each pick their favorite local restaurant, dine separately, and then discuss their respective experiences. 

I have seen restaurants receive criticism for the following B.S.: 

Parking; portions are too big; portions too small; music too loud; wait staff too attentive; wait staff not attentive enough; atmosphere;  ambience;  décor;  too many locals;  not enough locals;  not authentic;  too authentic; waited for food; food came out too soon, etc.  

Conversely, I have seen restaurants receive high marks for the following B.S.: 

Parking; portions are too big; portions too small; music in background; wait staff too attentive; wait staff not attentive enough; atmosphere;  ambience;  décor;  too many locals;  not enough locals;  not authentic;  too authentic; waited for food;  food came out too soon, etc, etc, blah, blah, etc...

WHEN DID WE LOSE SIGHT OF THE FOOD? 

Too often, the level of pretentiousness in blogs, TV, and articles obscure the most important questions:  Does it taste good? What are the ingredients?  Is it fresh?  How is it made?   The food does not taste better because the bed of  “micro greens” came from an organic sustainable farm run by blind refugee Himalayan Monks, or that they were fertilized with free-range-hormone-free chicken poop from the same chicken ranch that Thomas Keller (a REAL CHEF and owner of the French Laundry in Yountville) obtains his fowl, or because no dolphins or whales were harmed during the harvest.  These facts don’t make the dish tastier.  (If you haven’t figured it out yet,  I don’t give a rat’s ass about micro greens.  For the record, my favorite salad is the one they give you for FREE with the steak and baked potato.  In my mind, no salad is worth $10.  Just tell the waiter to hold the salad and credit you back a few bucks the next time you order a steak. In fact, call me collect and let me know how well that goes over at House of Prime Rib).

Case in point; here are two great meals.  Great for completely different reasons:

This is a representative of the seared Ahi you can get at Emeril’s New Orleans Fish House, located in the MGM Casino in Las Vegas. 

I have enjoyed the tasting menu, and this two-bite fish portion cost represented about $15 worth of the five-course, $75 dinner.  Did it taste great?  You betcha it did.  The overall meal was tasty.  The wait staff were extremely professional.  There is a two story wine rack in the place.  There was great romantic mood lighting (which DID NOT make me desire in any-which-way-or-form my three dining companions, Rob, Matt, and Bruce).  

The experience was sublime.   

The fact that a well known Food Network star had his name on the place did not make it better.  I was actually skeptical at first, as I expected there to be a big animated crawdad out front of the restaurant, wearing a chef’s hat and yelling “BAM” every 30 seconds.   If there were micro greens anywhere on the menu, it did not matter who picked them because it was not about the self-congratulatory list of sustainable ingredients, or the celebrity name, or the actual chef in the kitchen.  IT WAS ABOUT THE FOOD!

This is what I had for dinner on Sunday night, January 21, 2013:

Chicken, cooked over mesquite wood on the small grill with some garlic and lemon pepper; small purple and fingerling potatoes drizzled with olive oil and tossed with black pepper and salt before roasting; and a Fosters.

On that Sunday night, it was the perfect meal.   The chicken was Foster Farms, $ .99 a pound at Safeway.  Grand total, with beer, was about $10 bucks. And we had leftovers.  Did it really matter that it wasn’t  “All-Natural Poulet Rouge” from Niman Ranch.  No shit, here’s what their website says:

Our line Epicure Reserve(tm) poultry is patterned after the award winning Label Rouge (Red Label) program in France, responding to increased demand for humanely and traditionally-raised farm poultry. The Label Rouge program is the gold standard for naturally raised, premium products. We are proud to bring this delicious poultry to our customers.  While the parent stock for our Niman Ranch Epicure Reserve birds is imported from France to ensure the exact genetics, all of our birds are born and grown in the continental U.S. [using] Traditional Old-World Farming Techniques.

Get ready for this one:  $40 and change for a 3 pound bird (OK, about $15 is shipping). 

I want to meet the person who spends over $13.00 a pound for chicken.  Uncooked.  And as for fresh…it takes a few days to have it shipped to you.  Just like the Foster Farms bird from Safeway.

And speaking of Thomas Keller, the aforementioned Demigod-Chef, who runs two Michelin three-star restaurants (the aforementioned French Laundry, and Bouchon)…What everybody orders at Bouchon, his café-bistro, are the fries. I have had them, and they are good.  In the Bouchon cookbook, a glossy photo accompanies the recipe.  There are many changes of water to remove the starch before the first cooking, and the usual twice-fried technique. His oil temperatures are a straight-forward 325°F and then 375°F. Just peanut oil and russet potatoes, tossed with kosher salt at the end. It is not a revelation of any special technique or ingredients. Most any source would agree with those cooking temperatures, which makes one wonder how much better fries can really be if they are all cooked more or less the same way. What really makes his fries so good? It must be the potatoes themselves.

Well, a while ago, a tipster told New York magazine that he used FROZEN FRIGGIN’ POTATOES.  It was then confirmed by a rep at Bouchon: Keller DOES use frozen French fries, possibly from Sysco, the largest food-supply company in North America.  Their reasoning?  (1) Consistency of the frozen product; and (2) they use over 200 lbs. of fries daily.  Oh, by the way, Sysco only has one type of French fry.  The same kind you get at your local diner (just look for the Sysco truck by the back door). 

First stop is the Mall...next stop,Yountville!

 And how much does he charge for these frozen fries?  On his menu, under LES  ACCOMPAGNEMENTS, he lists Pommes Frites for $7.00.  He also has the cojones to offer Purée de Pommes de Terre for $6.50.  To us non-foodies, it’s MASHED POTATOES.  WTF??

At this rate, his Purée de Pommes de Terre is probably straight from the box.-

Next thing you know, they’ll be telling me that there is no milk in Milk Duds, or no grapes in Grapenuts. 

Hot Sauce Part 1: Sriracha

Meet Fumin' Ku, the Island God of spicy goodness..

Fumin' Ku will serve as our ongoing guide to all things spicy and tasty.  Despite what I or others may like, the ultimate test requires me to place the item on Ku's head, as a offering to appease his fiery spirit. If the sun continues to shine, birds sing, etc, after the offering is placed on his head, you have chosen wisely.   However, if volcanoes erupt, lightening strikes, or or my bourbon mysteriously curdles or turns into soy milk,  I know that I have made a poor choice.

Today, we will look at Sriracha Hot Sauce (the branded product, not the generic family of hot sauces). Sriracha is often seen on tables at just about every Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean, or Thai restaurant.  Also known as  "Rooster Sauce", it is recognized by its bright red color with a green cap, text in five languages (Vietnamese, English, Chinese, French and Spanish) and the rooster logo.

In Dec. 2009, Bon Appétit magazine named Sriracha "Ingredient of the Year" for 2010, and in their December 2012 magazine, they listed it as one of the 50 items that should be in every pantry, therefore earning the "Bon Appétit Seal of Approval." Interestingly, it was created and is made in the good ol' USA, and differs from its Asian counterparts.

What I like about Sriracha is the flavor/heat balance it provides. The chilies have a nice level of heat and a slightly smoky flavor which blends well with the garlic. The second flavor you get is sweet, which comes through immediately after the initial heat.  Interestingly, the heat varies from bottle to bottle. I’ve read it described as "a kind of a Russian roulette style hot sauce."

In honor of this post, I created THE CUBAN COMMIE COCKTAIL

2 shots spiced rum

2 shots vodka

1 shot (yes, a whole shot) of Sriracha

juice of one lemon

Pour all ingredients in a tall glass of ice, stir, and enjoy!

Is it good?  Damn skippy, it's mighty fine!  And Fumin Ku approves, as shown below..

Until next time..