Well, it may be a personal quirk, and there may be some nostalgia playing into it. The following only applies to Open Pit Original:
First, unlike almost all major commercial barbecue sauces, it does not contain any smoke flavor. A barbecue sauce being used on actual barbecue should not have any Liquid Smoke or its analogues in it. You’ve spent all this time delicately smoking meat to infuse it with your pecan/hickory/apple/oak/cherry/etc wood, and you’re going to wreck it all by adding generic hickory flavor to it? To me, that’s like working on a delicate chicken broth for hours for Polish chicken soup or tortellini al brodo and then wrecking it with some Wyler’s cubes at the end. (And, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely do use stock cubes occasionally to amp up stews and heartier soups, but in these soups delicate home-cooked flavor is the point for me.)
Second, it works as a wonderful base to your own barbecue sauces, partly for this reason. It’s got a nice mix of sweet, vinegar, mustard, ketchup/tomato-ness. It’s less sweet than other commercial sauces (a plus for me). And it’s an easy base to build on. When I go to BBQ shacks here in Chicago – you know, like the old school ones with an “aquarium” smoker, usually in the poorer parts of town – I often see commercial-sized bottles of Open Pit back there that suggests to me, I’m not the only one with this idea. And I love the prepared sauces from these places – more on the tangy than sweet side with what I assume is Open Pit as the base.
Third, yeah, nostalgia plays a factor. That flavor is the memory of my childhood. Used on its own, I love it for grilling and basting meats. For barbecue, I do like to doctor it up. The only barbecue sauces in my house are Open Pit and Sweet Baby Ray’s (either Original or Sweet & Spicy.) The latter I use for meats that aren’t smoked, and I usually thin it down and tart it up with apple cider vinegar, as they are a little bit sweet for my tastes, though damned tasty.
I’m sure there are a lot better small-label barbecue sauces out there now without liquid smoke in them, but they are sure hard to find for me.
Definitely a great accounting of why Open Pit deserves a place on the BBQ table. Very good point about how most commercial sauces add smoke flavoring, which I hadn’t really considered.
I’m a little surprised at the Sweet Baby Ray’s endorsement though. I find it too sweet as well, and if I recall correctly it uses high fructose corn syrup as a sweetener. Now, I’m not a believer that HFCS is the poison that some people think it is, but I do think ‘corporate corner cutting’ when I see it in the ingredients list for something like BBQ sauce. My go-to commercial sauce, when I’m not making my own from scratch, is Stubb’s, which has molasses and brown sugar and no HFCS in its ingredient list.
Sadly, though, I just checked and I do see it has hickory smoke flavoring as an ingredient
Like I said, I cut it with apple cider vinegar to make it more to my tastes. It’s also the commercial barbecue sauce everyone in my family seems to like, so it’s a crowd-pleaser if I don’t feel like making my own or if someone just wants some BBQ sauce for their chicken nuggets or fries or whatnot.
It’s been about ten years or so since I last had it, but I do remember liking Bone Suckin’ Sauce quite a lot just straight out of the jar, no doctoring.
Steak Oscar was a very popular menu item at the hotel I worked at in college. (90% of the time, I worked in the banquet facility, but I did sometimes work in the steakhouse.) More than once, people wanted the sauce heated up, and even though they were told that the hollandaise would turn into scrambled eggs, still wanted it.
If I ever ordered anything like that, I would want the crab left off because I don’t like it.
Saag paneer doesn’t have to be made with spinach, FYI. My wife’s made it with various mixtures of spinach, collard greens, mustard greens, and turnip greens. Basically whatever’s ready to go in the garden.
It’s fantastic regardless of whatever sort of leafy green you use, and the non-spinach ones give it a bit more character.
Purple? All the injera I’ve ever had has been a sort of whole-wheat brown color. And it’s usually sour in a sort of sourdough kind of way. Honestly, my only complaint about Ethiopian food would be that sometimes the injera is a bit moister than I’d prefer. The texture is weird sometimes.
Well, that’s why you don’t order the haggis at Panda Express…
My wife and I sampled durian with a foodie friend, and it was as nasty as advertised - tasted just like the chemical put in natural gas to give it its distinctive smell. But we knew about durian going in, so that wasn’t really a surprise. However, in the mid 90’s, I flew from Chicago down to Guadalajara to visit my sister, who was teaching English there. The first night, she took me to the little local taqueria around the corner from her apartment. There I had my first authentic Mexican tacos, which were heavenly. Being somewhat adventurous, I tried tacos de lengua. The meat was tender, flavorful, and melted in my mouth; I thought, “Oh, so this is why P.G. Wodehouse’s characters rave about tongue sandwiches, I get it now!”
So when I flew back to Chicago, where I was living at the time, I eagerly ordered them when I found them in a hole-in-the-wall Mexican taco stand in Grant Park. Big mistake. They were undercooked, tough, and rubbery; it was exactly like chewing on a tongue. I’ve never risked tongue meat again, here in the States - I’d try it in Mexico again, though.
Parenthetically, that was an eye-opening vacation for a provincial American kid from Georgia. I discovered how many unpleasant stereotypes about Mexicans I didn’t realize I had, and how wrong they were. I discovered that tequila doesn’t have to be harsh rotgut, and that authentic Mexican food is delicious. My sister’s boyfriend, a Guadalajara native, took us to a juice bar and gave me a Ziploc bag of bright green, icy-cold liquid. Turned out to be alfalfa juice, and it’s one of the most refreshing things I’ve ever put in my mouth - it tasted like fresh-cut grass smells, with a slight citrus flavor, and was perfect for a hot, humid Mexico City day.
There was a little restaurant on the edge of town that was one of those places that could never stay in business. We were eating in the latest incarnation, “Red Rooster” I think and I ordered a hamburger. I bit into it and felt this weird texture, took the top bun off and it was a sheet of paper that apparently separated frozen patties. That was nauseating because how well could they have cooked it with the paper still on there?
Probably not the. worst. ever, but I was recently surprised by a junk food joint that managed to mess up pizza. As the saying goes, typically even bad pizza is still OK, but their calzone was just a huge slab of nasty.
Bu-bu-bu-but I like spinach! I refuse to give it up! Although you’re right, I can probably get a lot more depth of flavor with a combo. But the key for me is the long 15 minute browning of the finely chopped onions in the pan and blooming the spices in ghee.
Currently I’m working out how to make larger batches with minimally reduced quality so I can freeze 1.25 cup containers (sans cheese or other dairy) so I can have some whenever I want.
Okay, back to the thread itself.
While I can’t honestly describe it as ‘worst tasting food’ I’ve ever had a restaurant, one of the things that otherwise fine places consistently fall down on is soup. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve gotten a soup as a part of a soup n’ salad, French onion soup (at a ‘French inspired’ bistro), or the like, only to have what was obviously freshly removed from a fridge and nuked abomination that was unevenly heated to say the least.
The number of times I’ve sent it back, and watched in come back all the while knowing they just tossed it back in the microwave for 2 more minutes with nary an apology or acknowledgement of the staff has pretty much ensured I don’t do it anymore.
The last time I had store bought soup, I had high hopes, since I went to a bespoke ramen shop in town that had opened just a few weeks before. And yet … the broth was insipid, the noodles were rubbery, and the hot spring style egg was overdone. Just… why? Have you no shame?
Yeah, you’ve had a bad version. I’ve had them at taco stands around Chicago, and they are generally great. I can’t remember getting a tough and rubbery one. My dearly departed Polish grandfather was especially fond of tongue. I’ve never prepared it myself – just the look of it at the grocery store puts me off a little bit, but if someone else prepares it, I’m fine.
Weird thing about durian is both my 8 and 6 year old like it. I can’t remember where I was – must have been in the grocery – with my two kids and they said they wanted durian. I was like, are you sure? Have you had it before? They both said “yes.” I said what did it taste like? “It was stinky, and tasted like banana and mango” (or something like that.) “Where the hell did you have durian?” (yes, I talk that casually to my kids). “At the neighbor!” Our neighbor to the north is Chinese. It’s more a Southeast Asian fruit, but I would not at all be surprised if my neighbors did, in fact, have durian. The kids did describe it as spiky – I asked if they had it confused with jackfruit, but their description makes it sound like they didn’t. And they are very picky eaters, but just seem to like some rando stuff.
Today I fell for all the McRib hoopla. Ok, it’s far from the worst thing I’ve gotten from a restaurant, but it was underwhelming. It goes away long enough for me to forget that it actually wasn’t all that great the last time around, so when it returns I end up craving one, and then when I have it I end questioning why in the world I wanted it in the first place.
Yep, exactly like me. I was tempted this year, but reminded myself that like the last five times I’ve had a McRib, I said to myself “I didn’t like it last year, why am I trying it again? I still don’t like it.” It took a few years of that to finally stop falling for the “limited time” manufactured scarcity advertising. Like you, it’s been about ten or more years since I’ve had one. Unlike you, I’ve had several years of trying McRibs.
Hoo boy, send me that recipe when you perfect it, please. This sounds like a great idea. I love palak/saag paneer, but I find that freezing the cheese just gets me freezer-burned paneer.
Yeah, the first couple of experiments pretty much proved that for us as well. Which is why we’re now working with all the dairy (the paneer and yogurt that our recipe uses) left out. Which just isn’t as good, but we’ve had moderate success in adding the yogurt portion back in to the frozen mixture after reheating. I’ve found paneer just doesn’t freeze worth a damn, but had limited success with cubed, tightly wrapped mozz as a semi-adequate substitute.
Sill… the battle continues.
And back to thread AGAIN.
So the talk of the McRib brings to mind my experience with a cheapo local Chinese place. You know, tiny strip mall place with booths held together with duct tape and the like, that I used to eat at a decade ago now. And I found myself craving their super-salty wonton soup and cheeeeaaaap General Tsos.
Many regrets. It was exactly the way I remembered, which while it scratched the mental itch, reminded me why I make most of my own food these days. Between the salt, grease, and extra sugar, I was popping antacids all day.
Hmm, I was at a McDonald’s this week and saw it on the menu, “a limited time offering”. I was using a self service kiosk, and for some reason I added it to my order. Then I had the recollections of McRib sandwiches that I’ve had in the past, deleted it, and had something else instead.
It’s also the commercial barbecue sauce everyone in my family seems to like, so it’s a crowd-pleaser if I don’t feel like making my own or if someone just wants some BBQ sauce for their chicken nuggets or fries or whatnot.