I Thought Burning Was The Point
I used to think hot sauce was simple: the hotter, the better, and flavor was optional.
So that is what I bought. Sauces with skulls on the label. Sauces with warning stickers. Sauces that dared you to try them. And most of the time, they delivered exactly one thing: pain.
But there was always something missing.
The heat was there. The sweat was there. But the food itself disappeared. Wings, tacos, eggs, it all tasted like the same one-note burn. Nobody ever asked, "What sauce is this?" They just asked for water.
Eventually I realized the problem was not my tolerance. It was not the food.
The sauce had heat but no backbone.