Airborne toxic event

Because you have chosen to live in a country which inexplicably refuses to import Sriracha chili sauce, and because your dependence upon Scoville units shows no signs of abating, and because you are the sort who is not afraid to experiment with a blender, you have created an airborne toxic event in the kitchen. With a result rather pleasingly similar to the authentic product, the chunky widemouth seedy one, the one you prefer to the smooth and squeezable one, the one which is even harder to obtain. So you made some. Once the coughing had subsided and it was safe to go back into the kitchen (about 90 minutes after you first took the lid off the blender and inhaled, you ridiculous, hacking moron), you found it was pretty god damned good.

Here’s how you will do it again:

You will need
– a can of peeled tomatoes. I know, I know. This is not tomato sauce you are making, but consider this the substrate, highly necessary to dilute the hell you will release from
– a bunch of the hottest, reddest, deadliest chilies you can obtain; enough to fill your two hands
– some garlic, say, four, five, six cloves, unless you want a lot more
– a few minims of salt
– a glug of vinegar. Ideally the stuff left over from that jar of peperoncini you just finished
– a tiny jar
– a zip-lock bag

Drain the tomatoes and thrown them in the blender with the garlic and salt. Blend the hell out of that shit. Coarsely chop the chilies and add them to the mix. Blend slowly, monitoring the consistency — you want the chilies to retain a little bit of chunkiness. CAREFULLY removing the lid, pour in a little vinegar. CAREFULLY replacing the lid, continue to blend, adding more vinegar if necessary, until the mixture is a chunky, spoonable, chili hell.

The catch — shelf life and potency are at odds. The quantity you have just made is far more than any sane person could use before it goes fizzy, and not in a good way. So spoon a small, sane-person amount into a five-ounce jar and keep it in the fridge. The rest goes into the zip-lock and is frozen.

Congratulations, pinhead! You have learned how to utterly disable both your lungs and your tastebuds with a single stone. When you have depleted the little jar’s supply, thaw the zip-lock, refill the jar, and refreeze the balance. This batch should last until real Sriracha becomes available again.

While reasonably close to the real thing, this is not identical to Sriracha. Around our house this variant is known as ‘my mouth is the fire’ sauce.