Secret sauce

So there I was, again, in the condiment and sauces aisle at the supermarket, undecided. Row upon row of brightly labeled bottles stared back at me, their contents rich and ruddy brown and tempting. And - again - I turned away, empty-handed.

I’m no food snob. I don’t know enough to be quite so high-falutin’. And yet, I have been unable to bring myself to purchase a bottle of ready-made barbecue sauce for months now. This wasn’t always the case. Back in the day, I was quite happy to use Country Bob Edson’s All-Purpose Sauce for all my barbeque needs. That was long ago, however, and far away. Now…well, I seem to feel the way this foodie does:

I learned three important things about barbecue sauce:

1. Never buy bottled sauce.
2. If you do, lie and say it was homemade.
3. Say that there is a “secret” ingredient in it, then tell no one, even upon threat of bodily injury.

The drawback is that preparing homemade sauce is a pain in the ass. I don’t often have cause to use it, but when I do I need to have it ready-to-hand, and that means making it up in advance. You see? A pain.

Another problem: what kind of sauce do I actually want? Sweet? Smoky? A bit of a vinegary tang? You’d think you could have two of the three qualities, right? The Web is replete with recipes from enthusiastic cooks, but which to employ?

Not terribly long ago, I made up a sauce based on a recipe offered up by grill guru Steven Raichlen - with a Coca-Cola base, no less. It was…okay. Not bad, but not wow, either. I was left to wonder if I possessed the necessary spirit of experimentation. I’m still wondering.

Well, I need to decide soon, because the BBQ months are upon us. Time to consider this vital topic in earnest.

Similar posts:
Secret sauce, continued
Ribeyes. Broccoli. Oh, yeah.
Meals for the work week
Toolin’ up in the kitchen
And now, for a change of pace…