On a whim, I decided to resubscribe to Fuego Box: a monthly (or quarterly) hot sauce delivery service that carefully curates what they sell. When I canceled my subscription last year I was drowning in sauces I didn’t much care for, largely because I’m a fan of super-hot peppers and inventive uses for them. My first subscription was a more middle-of-the-road tour of what sauces are out there and not catered to what I might use the most.
Luckily, Fuego Box now has an extra hot only option when subscribing. This post is in no way sponsored by Fuego Box but I’m told reviewing things like this is the trendy thing to do. Originally that’s all I was going to do with this site but I’ve set my sights on actual ambition.
Anyway, on with the torture.
Sauce Name: Southern Stinger
Made By: Hoff & Pepper
Primary Pepper: Blend of Jalapeno, Habanero, Chipotle, and Scorpion
Your first order from Fuego Box includes the hot sauce log you see pictured above. If you record these little reviews and post them on Instagram you’ll eventually receive a free set of sauces after you’ve filled up the book. I find it silly but charming in a way as I enjoy the role-playing game-esque stats wheel at the bottom.
Southern Stinger is a fairly typical blended sauce with a smokey edge thanks to the inclusion of chipotle. It smells like any number of chipotle-laden mixes with that spike of vinegar and smoke hitting your nostrils before the subtle note of carrot. I’m a fan of carrot, it provides body while remaining fairly neutral.
Sauce manufacturers who want to avoid adding sugar often use carrot to round out flavors, particularly sharp notes you find in habaneros. It goes a long way to merge the disparate pepper tastes together but I find the mellowness of the scorpion peppers somewhat overpowered by the twang of chipotle.
Of course you shouldn’t take “mellowness” to mean scorpion peppers aren’t ludicrously hot. They are and their inclusion here sends Southern Stinger into the superhot range, but all the carrot and orange juice cuts off the burn before it controls your palate. That’s another clever trick in sauce crafting, by the by: Citric acid can impede capsaicin enough that you can experience the heat without it ruining the experience. It will still hurt, and if you’re not experienced with that sort of burn it will likely put you off having more, but you’ll find getting rid of the sensation is much easier.
The result here is true the sauce’s name. It stings you with that first bite but cools quickly, leaving you with just a touch of peppery heat and the smokiness of the chipotle. I like that it is fairly smooth, with just a touch of seeds in the bottle. Smooth sauces are easier to incorporate in other foods and seep into fried chicken with a delectable evenness. I can see myself using Southern Stinger on anything that would take well to a roasted finish. It’s an everyday sauce that leaves me wanting to try Hoff & Pepper’s non-exclusive range.
Carrots and citrus are the easiest way to win me over as it makes me feel clever for noticing. Not all sauces have to torment you when they dip into the fiery fruits.
Which brings me to this fucking sauce….
Correction to this image: This sauce gets only 2 goddamn stars, as I will soon explain.
Name: Atomic Purple
Made By: Pex Peppers
Primary Pepper: Ghost Pepper and Spite
The trouble with fruit-based sauces is that they’re difficult to pair. Strawberry in particular has a rough time lending its sweetness to savory dishes without that tell-tale cloying sweetness tainting every bite. I feel about strawberries in savory food the way I do about smug chefs trying to add vanilla to lobster: fucking don’t.
You might have guessed it by now but one of the “berries” mentioned on the bottle is, in fact, strawberry. Blueberry is the other and it is an innocent bystander in a sauce that feels like a mistake.
I was optimistic when I read the ingredients that Pex Peppers could change my mind on strawberry used in anything other than a desert. They made this sauce, after all, surely they know what they’re doing. Then I read the bottle which reads:
“Atomic Purple - This delicious sauce has been created by berries grown in the shadow of Chernobyl**. Featuring fresh splashes of blueberry, strawberry, and a supreme nuclear blast of Ghost Peppers: this mix can stand in as fuel for any nuclear reactor (can also be used as a condiment).
**totally not true, please excuse our marketing department, they are drunk
I won’t excuse your marketing department seeing as I’ve written less smarmy copy after two bottles of Prosecco and a Crux Shadows concert. Invoking nuclear devastation is popular in hot sauce marketing, as is destroying the consumer’s ass or slapping their mothers, but it’s all a bit heavy handed. If only there was some way to convey danger without regurgitating low-hanging fruit.
I commend Pex Peppers for making a sauce with only 6 ingredients but I wish one of them had been citrus. Instead, this sauce made with ghost peppers, vinegar, blueberry, strawberry, wildflower honey, and salt is an unforgiving blast of heat that unleashes angry ghost peppers without any hope for relief. Typically I’d be into that, particularly when cooking, but the strawberry hits with similar aggression and creates a mural of fiery woe etched into my palate.
AND it has chunks of berries which makes it both difficult to use and impossible to avoid the strawberry constantly assaulting my senses.
This is a clear example of marketing gimmick being at the forefront. Pex Peppers wanted to make an unforgiving sauce and I appreciate that they did it without capsaicin extract but I’m left wondering what to do with it. Ghost pepper pairs well with blueberry (I’m fond of this) but is completely overpowered by the strawberry. All I can taste is strawberry and pain, with a faintly floral note provided by the honey.
It’s not a sweet mess, the salt and vinegar help dampen that, but Atomic Purple is unpleasantly astringent. I knew I should have made rice to try these sauces as crackers are too unyielding to be sampling smoldering berry afterbirth with. That’s not even a good example because smoldering conjures up smokiness, a la chipotle in Southern Stinger, but no. Nothing calming or altering was added to Atomic Purple beyond the honey and salt and they’re simply not enough.
I don’t throw sauces away when I dislike them. Stubbornly I continue trying to make them work so the money spent wasn’t wasted but I’m seriously torn on this one. It’s probably better if you’re more accepting of strawberry than I am and in the eventuality that Pex Peppers reads this I will admit that is a factor.
The copywriting is unforgivable, however. It’s not cute or clever when nearly every extreme heat sauce markets from this angle.
Well then, I’m off to brush my teeth. As I said before, Fuego Box did not sponsor this review and should they ever read it likely never will, unless they need someone to be brutally fucking honest about bad decisions.
Pain may be the point but good lord I want to enjoy it. Strawberries have ruined my evening now.