Secret Aardvark Trafficking Has Green Light

Canned beans and tortillas live in excess in my pantry—my friend Kezia says I am one-third Mexican at heart. It's a comparison I'm happy to accept. Authentic Mexican food / Green-Chile-based Northern New Mexican Food / Tex Mex Slop—as you will learn—are my absolute favorite types of cuisine. Spicy, fresh, hearty, and ridiculously cheap and easy.

Hence, operation Tostada Night is in full effect: 3 corn tortillas, sprayed with canola and baked 8 minutes at 425; homemade refritos with some queso fresca, Chobani greek yogurt (screw sour cream, Chobani has become a ridiculously versatle staple in my kitchen, replacing sour cream, mayo, and even buttermilk)—cleaning out even more space in my refrigerator. Damn, do I feel frugal. And yes, I ate THREE tostadas.

Tonight I used up the last of my beloved and selectively used Secret Aardvark hot sauce. I discovered this on a trip in 2007 at a cafe in Portland, OR—Jam on Hawthorne—brought back a bottle—this spring, a kind colleague at Bob's Red Mill (also in Portland) took pity on me and sent me another after learning of my utter obsession.

However, I found out tonight that I can order the stuff, FINALLY online, score! I'm terrified of possible Aardvark Overdose.

People. If you like to burn your mouth in the most pleasant way possible, I urge you to try this ass-kicking nectar. It has a very complex, sweet, fresh taste at the front (roasted peppers and tomatoes, carrots, vinegar) and a mouth-coating slow fire after you swallow.

Oh. And it's hot as balls again here in Boston. Fitting.