Super Bowl Seafood

Philly Ultra Fan

A few weeks ago, a friend invited us to his Super Bowl party.  It seemed awfully early to announce one;  however, he'd planned last year's in early January 2025 in anticipation of the Philadelphia Eagles making it to the Big Game.  As that resulted in an Eagles' championship victory, how could he possibly break tradition?  Unfortunately, it didn't work 😬, but he decided to move forward with the party anyway.  If you know anything about the City of Brotherly Love, you know we take our sports very seriously.  "Go Birds" becomes the local version of "aloha," denoting "hello," "goodbye," "cheers," "thanks," and any other pleasantry you can think of.  I've got buddies, all grown-ass men, who literally cried with joy when the Eagles won back in 2018.  A lot of emotion is tied to the Eagles, to say the least. What else would you expect from a city that booed Santa Claus at a Birds' game?  I'm far from a die-hard Eagles fan, but admittedly have my own Philly sports obsessions.  I almost called out of work when the Phillies lost the NLDS last year.  However, this invitation got me focused on one thing: Super Bowl party snacks of the seafood persuasion.  Chickie's & Pete's crab fries are great, but let's air it out with a few Hail Marys.     

Buddy Ryan

Now, I've got a real mixed history with American football and the NFL that I need to get out of the way.  Apologies in advance for the non-seafood-related rant.  Feel free to Ctrl+F for "football is delightful" at any time to skip.  

As a kid, I lived and breathed all things football.  Trading cards, jerseys, posters, Starter jackets.  You name it, I had it.  I used to create my own I-Formation plays on index cards, and the neighborhood kids and I had weekly backyard football games.  I even dressed up as Buddy Ryan for Halloween in 2nd grade.  This continued into my teenage years.  RedZone every Sunday, Madden on N64 or PlayStation daily, fantasy draft leagues.  I idolized Brian Dawkins and Brian Westbrook, and absolutely loved playing under the Friday night lights for my high school team.  However, once I got to college, things started to change.  There was no single event.  Rather it was a combination of things that saw me gradually lose interest in football, eventually leading to an outright disdain for the NFL in particular: 

1. The game itself changed.  I loved the 90's and early 2000's smash mouth, run-first game built around guts, defense, and physicality.  Hard-nosed teams grinding out wins with big hits and tough tailbacks.  Brian Urlacher and LaDanian Tomlinson going head-to-head in a 16-13 nail-biter.  Now, it's a pass-heavy spectacle focused on highlight reels and fantasy-friendly stats, not strategy, balance, or depth.  There was a Chiefs vs. Rams game that ended 54-51 a few years ago.  That's a college basketball score, not a football game.    
   
   
2. The constant rule changes (a major contributing factor to the first point).  Every new NFL season I find myself questioning "Wait, they moved the extra point back?  You can't wedge block anymore?"  Defensive players so much as sneeze on a quarterback or receiver and they're flagged for unnecessary roughness or pass interference.  It feels like perpetual beta testing at this point - "NFL 2.7.1 - patch update - defense rate-limited."  I understand the reasoning behind these changes, which leads to my next point.   
   
   
3. The NFL's oversight of player safety.  Everyone knows football is dangerous.  However, the NFL knew the true nature of that danger and conspired to hide it.  Big Tobacco style, they denied and downplayed the severity of concussions while attacking independent research that said otherwise.  Meanwhile, CTE was literally ruining lives.  It took years of investigative journalism, lawsuits, and irrefutable medical evidence for the league to start prioritizing player safety.  And this prioritization wasn't from actual player welfare concerns; it was damage control for their brand.  They got caught, made some bullshit apologies, then started making superficial changes.  Forgive me despising a league that committed decades of criminal collusion and neglect. 
   
   
4. Disparate treatment across the league.  Discrimination is rampant in the NFL, particularly in player assessments and leadership opportunities.  Colin Kaepernick peacefully protested for racial injustice awareness.  As a result, he was blackballed from the league.  He questioned the establishment, so his career was destroyed.  At the same time, Ray Rice viciously assaulted his girlfriend and the league suppressed video evidence in attempts to avoid his lengthy suspension.  Same with Deshaun Watson and Ben Roethlisberger.  Ray Lewis literally got away with murder.  Team medical staffs were handing out Vicodin like TicTacs while Ricky Williams was ostracized for marijuana offenses.  The Patriots' slap on the wrist and the Chiefs' favorable officiating.  Why all this hypocritical disparity?  One word: money.  This leads right into the final point.   
   
   
5. The NFL is a billionaire boys' club.  "We're concerned about player safety, but let's expand the season to 17 games."  "Breaking news -- NFL player gambling scandal -- brought to you by DraftKings."  Subscription streaming services.  Duplicitous revenue tactics.  Tax-payer funded stadiums.  TV blackouts while it's $100 for a nosebleed seat.  Every single point previously made is a result of NFL owner greed.  Outwardly, they preach safety and integrity.  "We support the troops" and #unity campaigns.  They greenwash, pinkwash, even redwashed for years to hold onto a racist mascot.  The real priority is preserving their robber baron cartel where accountability is optional, but the money never misses a snap.  These practices are not unique to the NFL, of course, and my issues are really with corporate plutocracy.  But still, f*ck the NFL owners.  They don't care about the players, the staff, and especially not you...just your dollars.  
   

Former Fifa President Sepp Blatter

I fully appreciate that many will disagree with some, if not all of this.  People are very passionate about their football and will defend it at any cost.  I mean, the NFL has challenged the oldest institution in the Western World for a day of the week and arguably won.  I also admit my rationale is full contradiction and hypocrisy.  I can't stand the NFL, but love watching soccer.  Whenever some NFL scandal emerges, FIFA is the first to say "hold my beer."  And as messed up as that is, I'm okay with it.  We all need to compromise for some escapism, especially with the current state of world affairs.  So, I'll enjoy the World Cup and the Premier League; you'll enjoy the Cialis and Bud Light commercials with intermittent football, and we can still be friends.  

All jokes aside, though, this is why I love food.  While we may disagree on football or the NFL, I think we can all agree the cuisine surrounding football is delightful.  Spicy Buffalo wings, saucy pulled pork sliders, unctuous brats and burgers right off the tailgate grill.  Who doesn't love a good seven layer dip or cheesy nachos?  For the upcoming Super Bowl LX, I wanted to do something similar to my ballpark seafood project from a few months back.  Let's audible to a much lighter note and make some gameday classics with the catch of the day.  So, if you're still with me, then hut, hut, cook!

Monkfish Chili 

Chili Queens via San Antonio Mag

Football and chili both have their origins in foreign concepts: football from British rugby and soccer, chili from pre-colonial Mesoamerican cooking.  Both were reshaped and adapted, eventually becoming pillars of American identity, masculine-American identity in particular.  However, chili, as we know it today, started with the Chili Queens in mid-1800's San Antonio.  Mexican and Tejana women braised dried chile peppers and beef into a rich stew and sold from street stalls across the city.  It became quite popular, and the commercialization of chili powder in the 1890's saw the dish spread outside of Texas.  By WWII, hundreds of chili parlors were operating nationwide.  Nowadays, people are just as passionate about their chili as they are their football.  Chili festivals, competitions, and debates are everywhere.  There's chili colorado, Texas red, Skyline, vegan three-bean, white chicken, Denver green, even legally defined chili.  Hot take: chili is just America's version of curry.     

More importantly, few things pair as well as football and chili.  Who doesn't love a warm, comforting cup at a wintry tailgate party?  Seeing how well fish curry works, wouldn't fish chili work too?  For my chili con pescado, I started by picking up a pound of monkfish from Hill's Quality Seafood.  Monkfish has a meatier texture than most fish, almost like lobster, and holds up well in a stew or braise.  It's the most common stewing fish around the Mediterranean.  Once home, I prepped all the usual chili suspects.  Diced onion, bell pepper, jalapeño, and garlic; canned tomatoes and red kidney beans; and a spice mix of chili powder, cumin, cayenne, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, salt & pepper, plus a little dried, foraged ramps from my Aunt Jo.  Yes, making my own chili powder from pasilla, ancho, guajillo, and other chiles would have been better.  No, I didn't do that.  I already annoy my wife enough with my seafood projects taking over the whole house.  I didn't want to exacerbate that with a powdered pepper-spray cloud.  We're a Geneva Protocol observant home.

All prepped up, I started by browning the cubed monkfish.   After a few minutes, out it came and in went the peppers and onions, then garlic.  Once softened, the spice mixture went in to bloom a bit, followed by a deglazing with some Lagunitas and a little tomato paste.  I was sure to scrape up all that delicious monkfish fond, then in went the tomatoes, a little hot sauce, and remaining beer to simmer on low heat.  After the flavors melded together, I added in the beans and monkfish to finish cooking.  Fifteen minutes later, it was lunch time.  Topped with the standard fixins' of sour cream, Fritos, cheddar cheese and green onions, it was a pretty tasty bowl of chili.  It had that classic savory and smokey chili flavor with a subtle hint of seafood.  It tasted even better the next day, when my kids surprisingly enjoyed some, and the monkfish texture held up great.  My only adjustment would be making it more seafood forward the next time.  Perhaps a little octopus or crab meat, maybe some Old Bay.  I'll let y'all know.         

Calamari Poppers 

Shrimp & Jalapeño Poppers at Acme  

Football food heavily favors Tex-Mex.  Nachos, BBQ, the aforementioned chili.  I don't think I've ever been to a Super Bowl party that hasn't had chips and salsa or guacamole.  It makes sense as Texas loves football and, of course, its namesake Tex-Mex.  Jalapeño poppers are another great example.  The precusor to poppers, the chile relleno, dates back to 19th century Puebla, Mexico.  However, surprisingly, it wasn't until the 1970's when jalapeños stuffed with cheese started to really take off in the States.  Tex Mex was in its golden age at the time, and poppers began showing up on bar menus everywhere.  They became so popular that Anchor Foods tried trademarking "jalapeño poppers" in 1992, but were rejected as the name was already established as a generic reference American society.  A few years later, jalapeño poppers started showing up on TGI Friday's and Applebee's menus, proof the dish was here to stay.           

Seafood jalapeño poppers are nothing new.  Recipes for shrimp or crab poppers are all over the interwebs.  They're even available oven-ready retail at my regional grocery chain -- just more evidence the "cheese and seafood don't mix" saying is bunk.  However, I decided to go a slightly different direction.  Squid tubes are the perfect shape for stuffing, and it's a common practice across many cultures.  Portuguese, Italian, Turkish, and Korean cuisines all have variations.  One of my absolute favorites was a Spanish tinned version in Da Morgada Stuffed Calamari I'd had at haley.henry in Boston a few years back.  So why not calamari jalapeño poppers?  I picked up some squid, as well as some Philadelphia Whipped Cream Cheese and Tillamook Sharp Cheddar.  

Once home, I crisped and chopped up some bacon, diced jalapeños and scallions, and mixed it all together with the cheeses.  I placed the mixture in a plastic bag and piped it into the calamari tubes.  Finally, I seasoned them with some leftover BBQ rub and onto a ripping hot grill they went.  A quick two to three minutes later and my calamari poppers were ready to go.  And man, they were delectable.  Nothing beats live-fire char on cephalopods.  Pair that with spicy jalapeños in a decadent cheese sauce and you've got a textbook six points.  Oh, and the two point conversion with the bacon.  Seafood and salty pig parts always deliver.   These are a 100% make again, any time, quite possibly for my buddy's upcoming Super Bowl party.      

Buffalo Salmon Wings

Top - John Young's Wings'n'Things
Bottom - Anchor Bar

Ah yes, the Lombardi Trophy of football foods - Buffalo wings.  No other gridiron fare is held in higher regard.  So much so that there was a competitive chicken wing eating competition annually in Philadelphia just before the Super Bowl: The Wing Bowl.  They retired it in 2018, but it's coming back in Vegas this year.  As for the Buffalo wing's origins, well, they're from Buffalo, of course.  How and by whom they were created is a murkier matter.  In 1964, Dominic Bellissimo and some hungry college friends were at his parents' restaurant, Anchor Bar, on a late Friday night.  Dominic's mother, Teressa, grabbed some scrap chicken wings, typically used for making stocks and sauces.  She cut them into drumettes and flats, deep fried them, tossed them in a butter-and-cayenne sauce mixture, then served them to the boys with blue cheese dressing and celery sticks.  The kids loved them so much they kept coming back weekly, asking for more.  Over the next few years, Anchor Bar began serving the wings regularly.  A decade later, wings were being sold all over Buffalo, and nationwide by the 80's.

The modern Buffalo wing -- split wings, fried naked, and tossed in hot sauce -- is most often credited to Anchor Bar with the above story.  But two years earlier, in 1962, John Young opened Wings ’n’ Things in Buffalo’s East Side, serving whole, breaded wings dipped in a spicy mumbo sauce inspired by African American cooking traditions around the South and Washington, D.C.  Young never claimed he invented sauced wings, but he did claim to have introduced them to Buffalo.  He also noted that Anchor Bar co-owner Frank Bellissimo had visited his restaurant more than once.  Was this the true origin of the Anchor Bar Buffalo wing?  Sadly, Young’s restaurant closed after only a few years due to financial challenges.  Buffalo was one of the most heavily redlined cities in America, and Black neighborhoods, including where Wings ’n’ Things operated, were economically crushed.  I'm not sure we'll ever know how to appropriately credit the Buffalo wing.  However, we do know that wings were considered inedible scraps for decades, only utilized by marginalized minorities who had to make the most of what others discarded.  With that said, I think John Young and the African American community deserve more credit for the Buffalo wing than is currently acknowledged in the mainstream origin story.

As for my seafood spin on the football classic, that was easy.  Chickens have wings, and fish have fins, pectoral fins to be precise.  I again took some inspiration from one of the whole fish OGs, Beau Schooler out of Juneau, Alaska.  Dude was rocking salmon wings back when I still thought football was cool.  I picked up some salmon collars from Hill's Quality Seafood and boned out the pectoral fins.  I patted them dry, then into a 375° peanut oil bath they went for four to five minutes.  Finally, I tossed them in a Frank's Red Hot and butter sauce mixture and plated with celery, carrot, and blue cheese.  I did overcook them slightly, and the meat was falling off the fin a bit.  However, fish fins are much like dark meat chicken and retain their moisture well even when overcooked.  They were rich with a strong, gamey-salmon flavor that balanced out well with the heat and acidity from the Buffalo sauce.  A light dredge or coating might help with the texture integrity on the next batch, but I was pleased overall with my initial trial. 

I really enjoyed this Super Bowl seafood project.  While I can't say I enjoy the sport much any more, I can wholeheartedly say I love the food around it.  If I'm lucky enough to be invited to your Super Bowl party some time, I can promise I'll show up with a smile on my face and calamari poppers in my hand.  Or maybe seven layer smoked fish dip, crab-stuffed potato skins, or even swordfish BBQ ribs.  Let me know some other ideas in the comments.

 

Cheers,

The SF Oyster Nerd

  

Hot Sauce & Oysters

Homegrown English Peas

Since moving to the suburbs a few years ago, I've gradually become an avid, borderline obsessive, gardener.  Testing soil PH, establishing fruiting perennials, composting aggressively, researching off season cover crops, and pretty much everything in between.  There's something incredibly rewarding about growing your own produce, plus my kids really enjoy it.  Put a plate of cooked peas in front of them and no way in hell they'll touch it.  "Yucky!"  But if they're pulling pods straight from the vine and shucking their own, they'll eat a full serving of English peas all at once.  Whatever it takes to get those veggies in, right?  Also, since I started gardening, I've been trying to connect my newly found horticulture enthusiasm with that of my legacy oyster and seafood obsession.  I struck a few short chords, mostly with my oyster paved garden path and an exploration of pairing oysters with eggs from chickens my neighbor raises.  Then, late this Spring, I realized the massive, classic pairing of garden produce and oysters that I'd been missing - homegrown hot peppers, in the form hot sauce, and oysters.

Chile Peppers

Peppers of The Americas
by M. Presilla

As always, this sent me down the research rabbit hole of hot sauce history, styles, and methods.  However, no research on hot sauce would be complete with out some detailed background on its primary ingredient - capsicums, more commonly known as chile peppers or just peppers.  This is a nerd blog after all, and I actually wrote my college thesis on the dissemination of flora by the Portuguese empire, largely focusing on peppers.  That C+ is long lost to time, but it was nostalgically comforting to read the abridged versions of what I once studied collegiately some twenty years ago. 

Peppers are native to the Americas, with archaeobotanists tracing their origins to the Eastern Andean lowlands and Western Amazon basin.  Their heat or spice primarily comes from capsaicin, a chemical compound produced to deter consumption by mammals.  Contrary to popular belief, capsaicin is produced by a pepper's placenta (the white, pithy core) and not the seeds.  The seeds pick up a decent amount of the compounds given they're also produced by the placenta, but they're not the source.  Capsaicin, and a few related capsaicinoids, bind to receptors on mammals' tongues and produce a burning sensation, causing most mammals to avoid them.  It's a naturally occurring defense because when eaten, chile pepper seeds are destroyed by mammals' mastication and strong digestive tracts.  Birds, on the other hand, do not have capsaicin receptors, and eat peppers with much aplomb.  Birds also do not have teeth and their digestive tracts actually aid the germination of a pepper's seeds.  A true symbiotic relationship with the birds getting a nutritious treat while their aviatory nature ensures the plants' wide and successful propagation. 

Wild Peruvian Peppers - via Pepper Geek

Humans have been ironically drawn to the spiciness of peppers as far back as we know and are solely responsible for the plant's global reach.  Capsaicin, despite its initial scorching sensations, triggers several revitalizing reactions in the human body including endorphin releases, increased blood flow, and perspiration for body temperature cooling.  Contemporary research has even shown the positive effects it can have in fighting autoimmune diseases, not to mention our penchant for benign masochism.  Evidence of the consumption of wild varieties of peppers goes back millennia with early domestication roughly 6,000 years ago.  Civilizations throughout the Amazon, Andes, Caribbean, and Mesoamerica all have deep histories with peppers not just in their cuisines, but medicine, warfare, and even religious practices.  Early conquest-era records detail the Aztec using peppers to treat toothaches, the Arawak as a form of tear gas, and the Inca revering the pepper as one of the four creators of humanity.  Culinarily, peppers were a requirement in practically all meals for native populations, seasoning every dish they ate.  Most notably, there are records of each culture mashing, mixing, or grinding peppers into one form or another of spicy condiment - the original hot sauces. 

The first step in the pepper's global expansion was Columbus' 1492 arrival in the Caribbean.  He and his crew were introduced to peppers by the Taino people inhabiting modern-day Cuba, Haiti, and the Dominican Republic.  Columbus' voyage was intended to find an alternate root to Asia, specifically China, India, and The Spice Islands.  Given the name of the latter, the ultimate goal was to gain better access to precious and expensive spices like nutmeg, cloves, and of course, black pepper (pimienta in Spanish).  So, when he encountered capsicums' spice and heat, he called them by a similar name, pimiento, and not the native name, ají.  Whether it was the taste similarity that caused the cross naming, or Columbus' attempts to hide his shame and embarrassment when returning to Spain without any actual black pepper, we'll never know.  Either way, capsicums are now known globally, in almost all languages, to have some nominal crossover with black pepper.  

Early Worldwide Dispersal of Chile Peppers - via Cornell Botanic Gardens

While Columbus and the Spanish did return to Europe with chile peppers and contributed to their dissemination within Western Europe, it was Portuguese merchants who truly spread them around the world.  They encountered peppers in both Iberia and Brazil, and sailed the world spreading them like wildfire.  They introduced them to Africa through Angola and Mozambique; India through Goa, Sri Lanka, and Calcutta; Oceania through Makassar and Malacca; and Asia through Macau and Tanegashima.  Practically everywhere the pepper landed, it immediately took hold.  As mentioned, spices and seasonings were rare and expensive, only accessible to the upper classes in most of the world.  Peppers, alternatively, are easy to grow, adaptable to most climates, and incredibly resilient.  They democratized flavor.  The Columbian exchange led to innumerable atrocities and tragedies, but the global dispersal of peppers was a major, outlying boon.  Cuisines around the world joyously welcomed them with several new hot sauce creations.  Could you imagine South African food without piri-piri.  Korean without gochujang, North African without harissa, or Southeast Asian without sriracha?  Practically every culture has made the pepper their own, both literally with their respective landraces and figuratively in their food identities.

Chile Peppers & Oysters

Top - Chili Pepper Institute Tasting Wheel
Bottom - Oyster Master Guild Tasting Wheel

The more I researched peppers, the more I realized they had in common with oysters.  There are thousands of oyster varieties.  They each have their own tastes, textures, and nuances.  They can be briny, sweet, savory, vegetal, earthy, snappy, buttery, and more.  Peppers are much the same.  There are thousands of pepper cultivars.  They can be spicy, mild, sweet, fruity, floral, crunchy, supple, and more.  The diversity is so great in both that organizations have created entire tasting wheels to guide experiences when eating them.  However, despite this immense diversity, all oysters and all peppers mostly come from just five specific cultivated species.  The Wellfleet oysters you enjoy are the exact same species as Chincoteagues, just grown in different waters, different styles, and from different broodstock.  Sweet bell peppers are also the same species as spicy serranos, just selectively bred for different traits and characteristics.  There is so much in common here that each domesticated pepper species has its analogous oysters species and vice versa, at least in terms of how and what we grow or consume in North America:
  

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Photo credits to Oyster Master Guild, Pepper Geek, and Chilli Books

Hot Sauce & Oysters

Oysters, peppers, and hot sauces all enjoy strong subcultures with fanatical followings, including beloved festivals, heated competitions, and even Guinness world records.  They're all deeply rooted in various cultural identities, as well as experiencing simultaneous resurgences in mainstream popularity.  But hot sauces specifically have an even richer history and association with oysters in North America.  Tabasco and oysters were advertised together from the very start of the brand in 1868, with Tabasco salesmen targeting oyster saloons.  But there are written and oral records of the use of hot sauce on oysters well before then, especially within the African diaspora.  As noted, peppers were the great democratizers of flavor and widely used by poor, immigrant, and slave communities.  At the same time, oysters were widely available and cheap throughout colonial and reconstruction America.  Black culture has been paramount in both building America's oyster industry and sharing hot sauce across the country over the last four hundred years.  Certainly the two met with high frequency, leading to the classic pairing we know today.

1875 bottle of Tabasco, noting "one or two drops
are enough for a plate of soup, meat, oysters, etc." 

 Many cherished oyster recipes of America's past call for hot sauce, including oyster stew, fried oysters, and oyster pan roasts, but they've also been paired for more than just flavor.  Old wives' tales tell us that hot sauce can kill any dangerous bacteria an oyster may be carrying.  This was particularly important in the pre-food safety regulation and refrigeration eras.  There's even contemporary research suggesting it may be true.  Capsaicin does have some antibacterial properties, but I would never advise consuming questionable shellfish, even if drowned in hot sauce.  The connection is entertaining, though.  But of all the historical hot sauce & oyster connections, my favorite is the satirical "Swallowing an Oyster Alive" by John S. Robb.  Published in 1844 in the St. Louis Reveille, it's a comedic tale of a poor out-of-towner being pranked.  After a bit of banter, he was coaxed into trying oysters for the very first time.  The locals then tricked him into believing the oysters were still alive and could kill him by eating through his stomach.  The only remedy - drinking a bottle of spicy pepper-sauce.  Give it a read or listen if you've got a few minutes.  It was the equivalent of a viral video in its day, and demonstrative of how hot sauce & oysters were already a staple in American culture nearly two hundred years ago. 

Hot Sauce & Oyster Trials

Beausoleil Oysters 

Now, finally time for some hot sauce & oyster trials.  Being up front, this is only a "dipping-my-toe-in-the-water" exploration.  It's exclusively hot sauce focused as I just used a single oyster variety for uniformity.  Even then, I only tested a handful of hot sauces available on the market.  There are thousands, especially with the craft hot sauce boom.  I had to draw the line somewhere, but believe me, my mind went pretty much everywhere.  Could chili crisp provide a nice textural contrast?  Would the fruitiness of Caribbean hot sauces go well with vegetal notes of Pacific oysters?  What about the complexity of sambal with the minerality of European flat oysters?  Eastern Carolina BBQ sauce and Texan oysters?  Nam phrik or nước chấm and Kumamotos?  The possibilities are literally endless. 

For a more robust hot sauce & oyster exploration, I suggest checking out Southern Maryland based content creator Rob Schou.  He's been going hard in the paint on all things seafood for the last 2+ years with an emphasis on various crabs, varieties of oysters, and fishing on the Chesapeake.  Over the last year, he's had a particular focus on oyster condiments, which naturally led to innumerable hot sauce & oyster combinations.  Mexican hot sauce reviews, homemade sriracha, a Hot Ones oyster test.  Several fans and brands have started sending him sauces to try, and he even did a March Madness Bracketology style hot sauce & oyster pairing competition.  Dude's been on a pretty envy-inducing journey over the last year. Scroll his channels for much more comprehensive hot sauce & oyster trials, as well as great seafood content in general.

Hot Sauce Lineup

Admittedly, I've proselytized on this blog countless times about being an oyster purist.  "No lemon, no lime, no horseradish, no cocktail sauce, and no hot sauce!  Taste your oysters in their true form to experience their nuance and flavor."  I still stand by this when eating a mixed dozen oysters from different regions.  It's the only way to appreciate their merroir.  However, my taste buds work, and oysters with hot sauce taste great.  That's undeniable.  So, over the course of a few weeks, I did my research and obtained fifteen hot sauces which I grouped into some loosely defined categories.  I reviewed them on a scale of 1 to 10, based on both overall quality and how well they paired with oysters.  And of all the hot sauce puns I could say here to kick things off, like "Time to turn up the heat!" or "Who's feeling saucy?," I most prefer my friend's brilliantly crass "Things are gonna get spicy...better put the toilet paper in the freezer!"  Let's go! 

Louisiana Style Hot Sauces

Best to start with the hot sauces you'll see at 99% of all oyster bars - Louisiana style.  After all, Tabasco is the original gangsta', and is largely credited with both commercializing hot sauce and stamping the hot sauce & oyster association on the American psyche.  The pairing makes a lot of sense too.  Oysters go well with acid to counterbalance the salinity, and Louisiana style hot sauces are always very vinegar forward.  Add a spicy kick to that and you've got a pairing that rivals peanut butter & jelly.  Tried and true, let's see what you've got:

• Tabasco - Original Red Pepper Sauce - Full transparency, I don't like Tabasco.  Never have and, as confirmed by this trial, never will.  It's an incredibly distinct flavor unlike any other hot sauce.  It can't be the fermentation, pepper species, or barrel aging, as I enjoy several hot sauces that use the same methods.  Perhaps it's just a combination of all three that leads to a sharp, astringent flavor that doesn't sit right.  To each their own, but 2/10 for me.   
• Crystal Hot Sauce - the true OG of Louisiana style hot sauces in my mind.  Crystal feels like a cleaner, brighter version of Tabasco.  Tangy, slightly smoky, and a much more cayenne pepper primary, vinegar secondary feel.  Solid 6/10.  
• Louisiana Brand Hot Sauce - Full transparency again, I love Louisiana Brand Hot Sauce.  Of all the Louisiana style hot sauces to pair with oysters, this has always been my go to.  It's definitely got that vinegar bite, but has a stronger, saltier pepper flavor, as well as a richer viscosity that texturally works well on an oyster.  7/10.
  
  
  
  

Chesapeake Style Hot Sauces

I love Old Bay.  Fuckin' love it!  Old Bay potato chips, Old Bay peanuts, even Old Bay Goldfish.  I simply can't get enough.  No joke, I've been talked out of getting an Old Bay tattoo on more than one occasion.  While traditionally paired with crab and shrimp, I had to explore how the classic Old Bay or Chesapeake / crab seasoning hot sauces might work on oysters.  My gut told me they'd be too overpowering, but I still had to find out: 

• Pepper Palace - Chesapeake Bay Hot Sauce - On the topic of OGs, Pepper Palace certainly claims that spot in terms of hot sauce makers.  Founded in 1989, it boasts 50+ hand-crafted hot sauces and 100+ retail outlets across North America.  The Palace was well ahead of the curve, decades before the hot sauce renaissance and outlets like Hot Ones' Heatonist.  No hot sauce exploration would be complete without a visit, and their Chesapeake Bay variety shockingly struck all chords with oysters.  Silky, spicy, comforting.  A delightfully surprising and highly recommended 7/10.  
  
• Delaware Sauce Co. - Ghost of the Chesapeake Hot Sauce  - I wanted to pepper in (all pun intended) a few locally made hot sauces in these trials, and Delaware Sauce Company is only a few hours from my hometown.  Unfortunately, going local didn't equate to quality this time around, at least when paired with oysters.  It felt like more of a heat bomb with subtle crab seasoning undertones, both of which overwhelmed the oyster.  It also had an unpleasant grittiness that was amplified on an oyster.  4/10.
• Old Bay Hot Sauce - Old Bay Hot Sauce is a bit misleading.  Don't get me wrong, I do like the product.  However, it's not a hot sauce.  It's more akin to Taco Bell hot sauce, just substituting the taco seasoning for Old Bay seasoning.  Deployed in the right situation, it's great.  On oysters, not so much.  It's very single note with the Old Bay, and had that same unpleasant grittiness.  9/10 for their seasoning, but 4/10 for their hot sauce. 
  
  

Seafood or Oyster Marketed Hot Sauces

This one was tricky and got a little out of hand.  There are hundreds of hot sauce styles and brands around the world that are either marketed to be paired with seafood, or are commonly known to go well with seafood.  Mexican salsa marisquera, a number of Caribbean hot sauces, Hawaiian chili pepper water, lemon pepper hot sauces, not to mention all the Southeast Asian staples like tuk trey koh kong, muối ớt xanh or nam jim jaew.  Even the Louisiana and Chesapeake styles fall into this category.  So, once again drawing the line somewhere, I tried to get a few branded hot sauces that broadly touched as many of these varieties as possible:    

• Culichi Negra Seafood Hot Sauce - I didn't have much familiarity with salsa marisquera until this project, but man am I glad I discovered it.  There are a few available on the market, but everything I read pointed to Culichi being the best.  And wow was it the best.  Toasty, savory, spicy, tangy, sweet.  All possible flavors packaged tightly into one drop.  It's viscous and has a slight pipián granularity to it, but goes great on oysters, and pretty much everything else I imagine.  Top of the charts with a 9/10, and I'm excited to try others.  
• Smoke City Foods - Lowcountry Oyster Sauce - While Louisiana arguably owns North America's preeminent hot sauce & oyster culture, the Southeast's Lowcountry is a close rival.  It needed some representation here, and Smoke City Foods' oyster sauce seemed appropriate.  Sadly, it didn't deliver, tasting like a mild, watered down cocktail sauce.  I guess their tagline of "Not Just Another Hot Sauce" was right, just in the wrong ways. 2/10.
• Pepper Palace - Horseradish Oyster Hot Sauce - I initially visited Pepper Palace for this exact variety.  Their Chesapeake Bay version was an auxiliary pick up that evolved into the entire Chesapeake Style category.  While Pepper Palace is wholly deserving of praise, it also feels kind of gimmicky or tourist-trappy.  Just look at their locations.  And their oyster hot sauce woefully echoed this.  It was mainly bland ketchup and horseradish forward with negligible heat. 2/10. 
• The Starboard - Raw Seafood Hot Sauce - I had to go local again for at least one sauce in this category.  Luckily, The Starboard in Dewey Beach, Delaware has their own line of retail sauces, and their Raw Seafood Hot Sauce seemed perfectly aligned.  Unluckily, it was yet another version semi-spicy, watery cocktail sauce.  What's going on, America?  Think creatively!  It's possible to make a good oyster hot sauce without reverting directly to cocktail sauce.  3/10. 
• Vastana's Citrus Hot Sauce - I scoured the internet for hours trying to find the right Southeast Asian style hot sauce, and I realize that only trying one is a massive disservice to the range and diversity inspired by the region's various cultures.  However, I think I chose well with Vatsana's citrus hot sauce.  Unlike any other sauce in the lineup, acid from the lime and umami from the anchovy extract brought a whole new complexity of flavor, especially when paired with an oyster.  It wasn't a powerhouse on the heat, but really opened my eyes to the possibilities of pairing any sauce with oysters.  9/10.     
  
  

Oyster Made or Endorsed Hot Sauces

Who better to ask "what hot sauce goes best with oysters" than those who grow them?  Surely their expertise would provide some legit pairings.  First, I turned my research to oyster companies making their own hot sauces.  There were quite a few, or at least quite a few that did at some point and time.  I encountered several broken links, out of stocks, and 404 errors.  Oyster farming and web coding aren't exactly the same skill set.  So, given the limited availability, I had to expand my search to hot sauce & oyster farm partnerships or endorsements.  I'm sure this won't age well, as links will have returned, new partnerships formed, and more oyster farms will start making their own.  But here we are:

• Rappahannock Oyster Co. Hot Sauce - I've always been a big fan of Rappahannock Oyster Co.  They're one of the more prominent voices in Chesapeake oyster restoration, help out-of-work fishermen establish new careers in aquaculture, and raise a phenomenal variety of oysters.  I had high hopes for their hot sauce as such, but it mostly missed the mark.  Felt like a bootleg Tabasco.  Sorry guys.  Love ya, but I've got to keep it real.  2/10.    
  
• Lowcountry Oyster Co. Hot Sauce - I'm not very familiar with Lowcountry Oyster Co. as they were recently formed in 2017, but it was one of the few oyster farms I found that currently made their own hot sauce.  And if their oysters are anything like their hot sauce, they're doing things right.  It was straight Louisiana style, both vinegar and cayenne forward, but had a depth of flavor and pleasing heat the mainstays couldn't hold a candle to.  Move over, Nawlins, there's a new hot sauce & oyster sheriff in town!  9/10. 
• Barnacle Foods - Bullwhip Hot Sauce - Located in Juneau, Alaska, Barnacle Foods sources locally grown seaweed and turns it into familiar culinary products.  Most notably, they make a hot sauce that's endorsed and sold by Island Creek Oysters, Taylor Shellfish, and several other oyster farms.  Made with kelp and piri piri peppers, it's rich, velvety, and packed with savory heat, almost like mushrooms braised in spicy seawater.  Great on oysters, and probably everything else.  8/10.  
  
• Splat - Hot Sauce Mignonette - Hama Hama Oysters and Splat Hot Sauce partnered to make this exclusive product, and it tastes exactly like it sounds; a perfect mixture of spicy hot sauce and piquant mignonette.  All of Splat's hot sauces are fermented, so it had an extra layer of flavorful funk.  And while it might not be the best multipurpose hot sauce, it works perfectly on oysters.  Mission set and goal accomplished by this partnership.  A praiseworthy 7/10. 
  

The SF Oyster Nerd Hot Sauce

Homegrown Peppers

After all fifteen hot sauce & oyster pairings, I really only landed on one truth - whatever tastes good to you will likely taste good on an oyster.  This is not a steadfast rule, as some hot sauces definitely heighten the qualities of an oyster, while others will eclipse them entirely.  But even with the latter, you've still got a texturally pleasant and briny delivery mechanism for your favorite hot sauce.  Perhaps not the most economical of choices, but certainly not a bad experience.  So, when approaching my own homemade hot sauce, I decided to simply make the best, tastiest, full-flavored hot sauce I could.  

L - Charred and Fresh Peppers
R - Fermenting Peppers

Earlier in the year, with this very project in mind, I'd planted Hungarian Wax, Habanero, Jalapeño, and Cayenne peppers.  All the research I later did really piqued my interest in growing more obscure or heirloom peppers, but that's for next season.  After several weeks of devoted attention and cultivation, the peppers popped, ripened, and were ready for harvest.  As my goal was to maximize flavor, I combined several hot sauce styles and approaches into one.  I broke down the peppers, removing the majority of the seeds as they can bring an undesired bitterness.  I also removed most of the peppers' placenta, specifically the habaneros' and the cayennes'.  I wanted spicy, but not pain-inducing like those peppers can often deliver.  Next, I left half the peppers fresh to keep some bright flavor notes and charred the other half to get a smoky sweetness.  Finally, I packed it all into a brine solution in a fermentation jar, along with a little bit of garlic.  This would add savory, salty, and tangy to the final product.

After fourteen long days of closely monitoring the ferment, it was time to make hot sauce.  I strained the peppers and blended them with a little bit of the reserved brine and some lime juice, then ran it through a sieve to remove pulp and particulate.  I wanted a slightly viscous sauce, like the ones I'd enjoyed, so I refrained from running it through cheesecloth or a coffee filter.  Xanthan gum would have helped, but this sauce was going to be au naturel.  I tasted it a few times, adjusted with a few pinches of salt and sugar, then proceeded to bottling.

The SF Oyster Nerd Hot Sauce

The final product was quite tasty indeed.  Right amount of smoke, right amount of sweet, right amount of tang, right amount of heat.  I even created my own SF Oyster Nerd branding for the bottles, Little Fat Boy Frankie style.  The only issue I couldn't walk back was a slight bitterness, most likely from using a little too much of the ferment brine that had developed some kahm yeast.  Lesson learned for The SF Oyster Nerd Hot Sauce 2.0 version.  All in all, I was pretty satisfied, especially when enjoying it on half a dozen oysters.  I'll go with an unbiased 6/10 here, leaving ample room for improvement on my next batch. 

I thoroughly enjoyed my hot sauce & oyster pairing adventure.  From the start, I knew the tastings and homemade hot sauce would be fun, but I had no idea what a delight all the reading and research around the subject would be.  I hope you get out there and enjoy some hot sauce & oysters yourself sometime soon.  Better yet, make your own hot sauce and bring it along for a day trip to your closest oyster farm.  Trust me, you won't regret either.

Cheers,

The SF Oyster Nerd