The Best Hot Sauces You Can Actually Buy

Arbol and piquin peppers, made in Jalisco, Mexico from a recipe McCormick's page traces to the Jose Cuervo family. Mild enough to pour rather than dot, which is the whole case for it: Cholula Original Hot Sauce, 5 fl oz goes on eggs, tacos, pizza, black beans and a bowl of soup without arguing with any of them.

Three ingredients and a long wait: the mash ages in white oak barrels for up to three years before it meets distilled vinegar and salt from Avery Island, Louisiana. Edmund McIlhenny mixed the first batch in 1868. Original Red Sauce is thin and sharp, so it seasons instead of coating: oysters, gumbo, scrambled eggs, a bloody mary, a bowl of tomato soup.

Rooster on the label, and the article traces the style to Si Racha, Thailand. No per-product page turned up on Huy Fong's own site, whose homepage serves the whole range as on-page anchors, so this links the encyclopedia. Garlic-forward and a little sweet, Huy Fong Sriracha, the rooster bottle, works as a condiment more than a chili hit: fried rice, instant noodles, fried eggs, a bowl of pho.

Buffalo wings were invented in Buffalo, New York in 1964, and McCormick's page says this was the secret ingredient. Aged cayenne peppers, distilled vinegar, salt and garlic powder, and the garlic is why it tastes cooked rather than merely hot. Original Cayenne Pepper Sauce, 12 oz is the size to buy: wings, scrambled eggs, macaroni cheese, and a slick of it on reheated pizza.

Louisiana's other red bottle, and the one to buy in quantity. The label runs to aged red cayenne peppers, distilled vinegar and salt, and the maker's page talks about a controlled heat level that keeps the accent on flavor. Crystal Hot Sauce, original, is rounder and less acidic than the Avery Island standard, so it pours: gumbo, collard greens, red beans, fried eggs.

Puya chilis from Jalisco go into this one, and Salsa Tamazula of Guadalajara makes it; the company's own site wouldn't load from here, so the link is the encyclopedia. Thicker and more savoury than a Louisiana sauce, it clings instead of running. Take the hot version, 900 Scoville Heat Units, and put it on chips, popcorn and corn on the cob.

Started in 1971 in a small warehouse in Maywood, California, and produced in Vernon since 1985, with the article carrying the dates. The maker's own 5oz product page returns no product name, so this rides the encyclopedia arm. The 5 fl oz bottle is the one you see on taqueria tables: tacos, scrambled eggs, and a cup of instant ramen that needs rescuing.

Vinegar heads the ingredient list, ahead of the aged peppers: sharpness with a pepper accent, not the other way round. The page sits under Garner Foods, whose site it links. Original Hot Sauce is the diner bottle, thin, shakeable and cheap, and it belongs on fried chicken, hush puppies and a plate of scrambled eggs, not on anything wanting subtlety.

Hand this to someone who claims they don't like heat; the bottle comes back empty. Tomatoes come first on the ingredient panel, then white wine vinegar, then carrots, which is why it tastes cooked rather than mashed and acidified. Aardvark Habanero Hot Sauce sits closer to a Caribbean table sauce than to Louisiana: carnitas tacos, fried rice, a breakfast sandwich.

Thick enough to sit on a taco instead of sliding off it, which is the whole argument for the squeeze bottle. Carrots and onions lead the ingredient list, ahead of the habaneros, and the label says Made in Texas; tangerine and lime concentrates further down are where the brightness comes from. Classic Habanero Hot Sauce: tacos, breakfast burritos, roast vegetables.

A small family business founded in Mérida, Yucatán in 1968, working from recipes the article attributes to the Gamboa family. The company's own site publishes category pages rather than per-bottle ones, so this links the encyclopedia. The green habanero bottle, 7,700-8,800 SHU by the article's table, is the one to get: vivid and grassy, better on ceviche and eggs than on anything heavy.

Product of Colombia, per the label reproduced on the page, with carrots and white onion right behind the habanero mash and lime juice for lift. That vegetable base is why it coats instead of running off. Melinda's Original Habanero XXXtra Hot Sauce 5oz turns the heat up several notches and still tastes of fruit rather than of pain: wings, black beans, and not much else.

Stann Creek, Belize is where this comes from, and the page prints the company address as #1 Melinda Rd. Habanero plus a spice blend the maker describes as secret and drawn from across the West Indies. Belizean Heat Pepper Sauce is the hot end of the range: thick, fruity, slow to show its teeth. Grilled chicken and a plate of rice and beans.

Black truffle, Tuber melanosporum, named on the ingredient list, plus organic agave nectar and truffle-infused olive oil. That reads like a joke and tastes like a good one. TRUFF Original Hot Sauce is a finishing sauce rather than a table sauce, and it has two jobs worth doing: soft scrambled eggs, and a slice of plain cheese pizza. The heat is mild; the perfume is not.

The ginger is the point, and it hangs around after the burn has gone. Sweet onions, bell peppers and extra virgin olive oil sit in the ingredient list beside the scotch bonnets, and the maker calls it handcrafted in NYC. Scotch Bonnet & Ginger Hot Sauce 5oz is the narrowest bottle here and the best at its one job: jerk chicken.