Tabasco Sauce: A Love Story

I was around eight or nine when I first tried Tabasco sauce. My Grandmother said Grace at the Thanksgiving table, and afterwards, I sat there with her sister and watched the family progress around her kitchen spooning their plates from pot to pot. When the food arrived, I watched her pull out a small red bottle with a green top. Without hesitation she opened it and started sprinkling it on top of her food. I was intrigued. "Can I have some?" She grinned and said, "You ever had Tabasco sauce before?" I shook my head no and even though she did warn me it was spicy; I still was curious…

She took the bottle and shook two drops onto a piece of turkey on my plate. A glass of ice water sat on the table in between us. As a bit into the turkey, a burst of heat erupted into my mouth (pause). A lil smoky and spicy but a lot to enjoy. I could feel her eyes staring at the side of my face; possible waiting to see a ball of sweat drop or my hand reaching for that glass of water. But none of the above happened. I took another bite. And another. Until there was no turkey left. When I turned to face her, I could see the bewilderment in her eyes. She patted my shoulder and said, "not too hot for you?" I smiled and said, "no I like it!" 

My Grandmother made her way to the table and asked what we were both smiling about. Her sister held up the small red bottle and said, "I think she's more related to me than you!" Her eyes widened. She confirmed with me if I actually enjoyed it and said, "two peas in a pod! I'm glad you have a partner now because it will never be me!" We all shared a laugh, and since then, Tabasco sauce has been a staple in my cabinet (the original, green, or even chipotle flavor).

And since both women are no longer hear with me physically, I continue to pour out a dab of hot sauce on my Thanksgiving meal, in honor of them. 

Sprinkle, sprinkle