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“Hot sauce must be hot. If you don't like it hot, use less.”
― David Tran creator of Sriracha Hot Sauce.

“In spite of the terrible pain I was in, I tried to help name the hot sauces. For the allegedly mild one, which tasted like nuclear fall-out, I suggested Hot as Fuck. For the medium one, which tasted like seven lit cigarettes applied firmly to the tongue, I suggested You'd Have to Be an Idiot to Try This, and for the Scorpion sauce, which was so hot I think it gave me permanent nerve damage, I suggested Lawsuit Followed by Complete Financial Collapse.

She ignored all my suggestions...”
― Susan Juby, Republic of Dirt: A Return to Woefield Farm

“Food is merely a platform for condiments.”
― Peter Marshall

“So this is sweet. Some sort of fruit, right? Not just sugar."
She nodded. "Mango and peach."
He looked surprised. "No kidding." He tasted it again. "Got it. Now that you tell me, I can taste them. What kind of chilies?"
"Mostly fresno. A cherry pepper here, a poblano there. A little habanero." She hadn't gotten enough fresnos, so the truth was she just used everything she had. Fortunately she'd written it down. "Some honey too. Seasonings."
"But there's something I can't quite put my finger on." He tasted more than looked at his finger and said, "No pun intended."
She smiled. "Curry."
"Curry."
"Yup." She nodded. "I needed something to segue between the sweet and the savory and I thought of curry."
"It's incredible."
"Wow, you're actually selling me on my own sauce." She upended the bottle and put a few drops on her own finger. It was just as good as she'd remembered, exactly as he'd said, with the heat that snuck up and away. Suddenly her mind reeled with the possibilities. She could use it as the base for a barbecue sauce and start serving pulled pork on the menu. That, with the beer cheese, Aja's cheese soup, and the biscuits Margo had made, she had a theme developing suddenly.”
― Beth Harbison, The Cookbook Club: A Novel of Food and Friendship

“Steaming meat slides in our direction, Lucas leading it onto a plate before glancing up at the ticket. He reaches for his belt, covering the meat in some orange sauce and then using his gloved hands to load it with toppings from the trays in front of us. There's cilantro, onions, lime wedges, corn salsa, avocados, and chili peppers. Ten different kinds of salsa, all marked with different colored tape that read either PUSSIES, NIÑOS, BADASS MOFOS, or LOCO. I assume they're heat indexes, and Lucas tells me to fill some plastic cups with a few milds, I reach for the salsa marked PUSSIES.
"Whoa, careful." Lucas points to a bottle out of sight.
I pull it to the front and it reads GABACHOS.
"Pen..." Lucas taps the salsa I reached for first. "Took offense to the labels. Now Pussies is the hottest salsa we have.”
― Laekan Zea Kemp, Somewhere Between Bitter and Sweet

“The heat came roaring back. If she could bottle his voice, it would be worth millions on the hot sauce market. A dozen flirtatious retorts came to mind. Yesterday she might have delivered any of them with practiced skill, but he was no simpering schoolboy. “You are a silver-tongued devil, Beau Landry.”—Alaina ben Thomas”
― Staci Morrison, M2-Rise of the Giants