The hot sauce made from a paste of chili peppers has become a staple condiment on my salads and sandwiches, in soups and sautéed dishes, and anything my whimsy suggests to me. The other morning, seeking something more than a third cup of black coffee, I added a packet of dark hot chocolate mix with some half ‘n half and three healthy squirts of sriracha (si-ra-tcha, not sri-ra-tcha, as you might think, but I’ll get back to that), to half a cup of coffee—and voilà a homemade café mocha with a “pop.”
Delicious!
I have yet to use it on my organic honey ‘n oats cereal, but never say never.
The tasty “rooster (or cock) sauce” (so called because Huy Fong Foods has the image of a rooster on its bottle) is named after Si Racha, a city in eastern Thailand where its use is primarily as a dipping sauce.
Capsaicin, an ingredient in chili peppers, has a history of being an effective topical analgesic in the management of pain. In Asian and African agricultural areas the use of chilies as a deterrent for crop-trampling elephants has been productive—the pachyderm’s sensitive olfactory system is disturbed by the noxious fumes from burning bricks made of dung and chilies.
While enhancing and expanding my taste for spiced-up foods and drink, I don’t think chili peppers have the power to make me a better person; it probably won’t increase my compassion, make me more responsible and respectful, cultivate character, encourage more curiosity, or spur a brave and undefeatable spirit in me.
Moreover, this rooster sauce has actually made me aware of another foible of mine—perseveration—the adherence to (anything) beyond a desirable point.
Okay, so here it is. My perseverance regarding the name. In the case of my new found “friend,” sriracha, what the heck happened to the spelling of the name? Why not siracha, like the Thai city? Okay, so maybe someone misspelled it; but if so, then why isn’t the spicy sauce’s first “r” pronounced? I’ve consistently felt my tongue stumble over the need to include that “r” even though I’m aware of the correct pronunciation. As irrational as it is, and I know many words (February, Wednesday, island, colonel, and try hors d’oeuvres) are spoken without pronouncing all of their letters, with sriracha I couldn’t let go of the lonely “r.”
This piece began with a food enhancing hot sauce and segued into perseverative thoughts on word pronunciation. But, really, it’s about something else: me just wanting life to be the way I want it to be.
When I become dogmatic, fixed in my thinking, and refuse to take in another’s point of view, common sense and sound judgement elude me.
If the rooster on the sriracha bottle could crow it might have warned me that there was more to the zesty sauce than a tongue satisfying culinary experience, but it can’t, and so I’m left with my enriching free-associations. I can’t help the fact that I have a meandering and curious mind that takes me on journeys both extraordinary and befuddling.
I can readily become an ideologue, wedded to what I think to be true—the right of the right and wrong spectrum. Being right is addictive. As aware as I am of the dangers of polarization when it comes to hot topics—gun control, abortion, civil rights, immigration, disproportionate imprisonment, and others—I’m often polarized by my own “rightness.”
Let go of the unpronounced “r,” wade into what it feels like to listen well to the other, manage the frustration of not being right, and above all give common sense it’s due, and as William Osler said, “Soap and water and common sense are the best disinfectants.” God knows I need to be “disinfected!”
Sriracha is good stuff—yummdillyicious!
On cereal?
by 
Roger,
What you wrote was reminiscent of the late great Andy Rooney’s wonderful unique style of commentary. I could even see his face. (Of 60 Minutes fame) As with Andy, the way you described your relationship with sriracha made me feel good to be human. That’s pretty cool. Or should I say hot. Thank you.
Jo Anne,
I’m glad that you were reminded of Andy Rooney, a wonderful and missed curmudgeon who made me feel better every time he spoke, and wrote. I think it is both cool and hot!
Roger
Hey Roger,
Thanks for sending the article. Fun and, for me, relatable. I think there is a case for pronouncing the “r.” Sri Lanka doesn’t back away from telling it like it is. And your PS boiled up something in me that is thematic in your post: Climate change (nee man made catastrophic global warming). I was going to offer something sarcastic suggesting that it was not the poor sauce but my car that was solely responsible for the warm weather in Vermont. But I will simply say that I am deeply saddened that one of mankind’s last institutions of truth-seeking integrity, science, has been severely corrupted by politics and the media. See Richard Feynman and current congressional testimony by Judith Curry. Oh well, this too shall pass.
Your friend…
Hot stuff and humor, word play and the marvels of a meandering mind, all offer a good counter-balance to the other end of the spectrum, bland dullness, numbness, or the heavy truth and darkness portrayed in your previous post about your bedeviled self. Reminds me of the jolt of sinus-clearing pleasure I
derive from the wasabi on my sushi. How fortunate we are to be able to feel the sensual stimulations of being alive in our lifetime, and to realize the yin and yang of it all. Write on, mon ami.
Colette,
Thanks for reading and commenting. Thoreau came to mind while reading your response: “The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation.” Wasabi and sriracha are two “over-the-counter” cures for quiet desperation–hot stuff and humor can rip through the veil of quiet desperation!
Roger
A good friend, wishing to be anonymous,although after his response I ought to reveal his name and invite myself to Christmas dinner, wrote, “Thanks very much for your hot thoughtfulness. If I have the courage I may substitute rooster sauce (easier to pronounce indeed) for the horseradish on the Christmas roast beast.” He wrote beast not beef–he’s an extraordinary cook, so I’ve got to see and taste this!
Roger