My uncle Tommy’s hot sauce is the recipe by which I measure all hot sauces; it is the recipe I try to recreate to varying degrees of success every time I come home from the store with cilantro, peppers, lime, onion, garlic and tomatoes. But Tommy just knew, in some magical old-Texas-guy way, the way hot sauce was supposed to taste and look and feel.
“Tommy Baker Hot Sauce” was a staple at all my family’s holiday gatherings for years, sitting up there on my mom’s or my aunt’s counter, decimated by the time anyone got around to ham or turkey — which my uncle Tommy almost always had a hand in making, too. The man was a genius in the kitchen or on the grill.
He’s been gone for two years now, and I miss him for all kinds of reasons, but one of them is because he was a family man who owned the holidays. He didn’t just sit around and expect his wife to make him a plate and trim the tree. He wasn’t quite Clark Griswold, but he was real close. And there’s nothing I love more than a man who’ll fry a turkey, make a side dish, wash a roasting pan, and slap a wreath on the door. Keep reading »