Nom Nom Paleo: Food for Humans (15 page)

Like a vinaigrette or butter, mayo’s an
emulsion
—a combination of two types of liquids that don’t normally mix, like oil and water. But by slowly adding one liquid to the other while mixing super-rapidly, a suspension of tiny droplets is formed.

It also helps to use an
emulsifier
, like mustard or egg yolk. Emulsifiers contain molecules that bind fats and water together, keeping your mayo from looking like the contents of your mom’s lava lamp.

Question:
Who doesn’t love sriracha?

Answer:
People who haven’t tried it yet.

But I know you. You’re a sriracha connoisseur. The first time you spied it on the table at your favorite Vietnamese joint and squirted some onto a spoonful of
phở
, you were hooked. You squealed when you spotted little squeeze packets of sriracha at the food truck near your office. You sought out the rooster-emblazoned bottle with the green top at Asian supermarkets. You stockpiled the stuff in your pantry and ate the spicy, umami-packed condiment with, well, everything.

And why not? Sriracha’s been anointed as The World’s Greatest Condiment and The Most Amazing Condiment on the Planet. Matthew Inman of The Oatmeal calls it “a delicious blessing flavored with the incandescent glow of a thousand dying suns”—and you know that’s no exaggeration. Sriracha is
magic
.

But then you made the switch to Paleo. And for the first time, you read the ingredients on your store-bought squeeze bottle of sriracha. You saw that it contains stuff you don’t recognize, like potassium sorbate, sodium bisulfite, and xantham gum. It felt like someone let all the air out of your hot-sauce-loving balloon.

You couldn’t bear to toss out your sriracha. But you ate it less frequently. And when you did, you felt a gnawing guilt about ingesting all those chemical preservatives. Every time you passed by your pantry, you eyed that bright crimson-orange bottle with longing—until the little voice in your head whispered: “
Faileo
.”

Finally, after weeks of sriracha withdrawal, you decided to take matters into your own hands. Furiously searching the Internet, you found a recipe for do-it-yourself sriracha—but it called for a week of fermentation and daily stirring. And patience isn’t one of your virtues. You want sriracha
today
. Sad face.

But what if I were to tell you that there is a recipe for a quick, Paleo-friendly version of the world-famous “Rooster Sauce”? Would you pledge to me your undying love?

This sriracha ain’t just Paleo-friendly—it’s also super-fast. Most sriracha recipes require prolonged fermentation to boost the umami in the fiery red sauce, but I’ve found a way around the interminable waiting period. The secret? You can just add the umami yourself, in the form of tomato paste and fish sauce.

1
½
pounds fresh
red jalapeño peppers
, stemmed, seeded, and roughly chopped
8
garlic cloves
, smashed and peeled
⅓
cup
apple cider vinegar
3
tablespoons
tomato paste
3
tablespoons
honey
(see note below)
2
tablespoons Paleo-friendly
fish sauce
1
½
teaspoons
kosher salt

1. T
   hrow the peppers, garlic, vinegar, tomato paste, honey, fish sauce, and salt into a high-speed blender. Purée until smooth.
   
2. P
   our the purée into a saucepan and bring it to a boil over high heat. Don’t worry about the froth on top—it’ll cook off.
   
3. A
   s soon as the sauce boils, turn down the heat to low and maintain a simmer for
   5
   to
   10
   minutes, stirring occasionally. Once the foam subsides, the sauce should be a vibrant red color, and you shouldn’t be able to detect any raw vegetable smell. Taste and adjust for salt if necessary.
   
4. T
   ransfer the sriracha to a jar (or three) and cool it. You can keep it in the fridge, covered, for up to a week. Behold: Paleo Sriracha!
   

burning hands and stinging eyes not your idea of fun? Then be smart: use gloves when handling the peppers.

Also, if you prefer extra-fiery sriracha, leave in some of the jalapeños' ribs and seeds, and/or use hotter peppers (like serranos or even super-spicy Lumbre peppers).