Hot Sauce Sale

After giving away over 60 bottles of my hot sauce so far this year, I have approximately 40 bottles remaining; and, alas, these are for sale.

There are a total of ten varieties (listed below) with updated numbers of remaining bottles (after the equal (=) sign). 

ALL chili pepper plants were grown on our roof here in the East Village, NYC. 

Sauces are made with only fresh, selected, organically grown peppers, apple cider vinegar, pink Himalayan salt (for the darker brews) or sea salt (for the lighter brews), and, depending on the taste profile of the chilies, fresh garlic. That's it.

All prices include shipping in the USA. Email first if ordering from Hawaii or Alaska.

If you are picking up bottle(s), subtract $3.00 from the cost of each purchase.


Here's a group photo of the remaining varieties. :

From left to right: Ram, Bonda Ma Jacques, Ghost Hab, Choco Hab, Stupid-Fuckered-Up Mix, Golden Ghost Mix, The Last Hab, Orange Teapot, Brazzy Star, and Beni.

Sauces are rated 1 (very mild) to 11 (melt your face) on my personally dysfunctional heat index scale (pdhis). Still, what's "mild" to me many not be "mild" to you; and sauces that I find to be spectacularly, deliciously soul incinerating (like Orange Teapot), others may think, "Meh."

More information on individual peppers can be found here: http://brianphilipkatz.blogspot.com/2017/09/chile-harvest-hoedown.html

All bottles are 5 ounces.

Scroll down to the sauce (or sauces) of your choice, click the PayPal link, then send me an email with your selection(s) and address to rooftoppeppers@gmail.com. 

Ram Sauce (2 pdhis) = 4 bottles @ $12.00 each, PayPal.Me/hotsaucesbpk

After the Tear Drop, which is no longer available, this is Maria's go to flavoring for her morning eggs. A relatively mild sauce with a hearty cayenne profile -- like a Tabasco with guts.

Bonda Ma Jacques (6+ pdhis) = 7 bottles @ $12.00 each, PayPal.Me/hotsaucesbpk

More citrusy sweet (on its own) and spicier than Habanero, Bonda Ma Jaques is among my more prolific growers -- one plant produces at least 200 pods. This is a good entry-level sauce for those wishing to discover the complexities of super-hot peppers.

Ghost Habanero (5 pdhis) = 6 bottles @ $12.00 each, PayPal.Me/hotsaucesbpk

Fruity AND rich, my Ghost Habanero sauces tend to be thick and packed with flavor. Perfect for spicing up a guacamole or bean dish.

Choco Habanero (6 pdhis) = 0 bottles @ $12.00 each, PayPal.Me/hotsaucesbpk

Choco Habanero (from chocolate habaneros, duh) is my second favorite sauce (Orange Teapot being the Supreme Ruler of the roof). This brew has everything: a nice kick with some legs, an addicting savoriness (that makes me want a taste as I write this), and, yes, a chocolate finish (but that might be me deluding myself). If you order this pepper, I will include one fresh pod with the purchase. (I brought this plant inside fro the winter because it was still producing beautiful peppers the first week of November. It is now happily growing in the window.)

Stupid-Fuckered-up Mix (5- pdhis) = Last bottle @ $11.00, PayPal.Me/hotsaucesbpk

A mix of ALL peppers remaining after single-brewed batches: I've given more of my these sauces away than my others. They tend toward familiar taste profiles for those who are only dabbling in hot sauces -- simply spicy and salty (with a dash of fresh garlic). Goes with pretty much everything you would want it to go with. 

Golden Ghost Mix (6- pdhis) = 2 bottles @ $11.00 each, PayPal.Me/hotsaucesbpk

A mix of my remaining yellow chilies, this is a surprisingly complex sauce that, after feeling the burn, releases a lemon meringue finish.

The Last Hab (5 pdhis) = 1 bottles @ $11.00 each, PayPal.Me/hotsaucesbpk

Made from my giant red habaneros, this is exactly what you think: a bawdy, sassy sauce with lots of tang.

Orange Teapot (9+ pdhis) = 2 bottles @ $15.00 each, PayPal.Me/hotsaucesbpk  

This is my favorite pepper (the Orange Teapot), my favorite plant, my favorite sauce... just, my favorite. Period. Ever. 9th level heat and bursting with orange (flower and fruit) -- this is the pod that almost sent me to the emergency room two years ago. The pepper is deceptively cute and I munched on half a fruit as if it were a grape. 

Subsequently, I slipped into a painful panic attack. But on the other side of the endorphin-fueled meltdown was a damn near religious experience. I recovered quickly, returned to my steak dinner, and drank my hoppy beer by myself on the roof... and I swear, the pepper opened every flavor complexity in everything that night. Perhaps the greatest meal I've ever had. This sauce will not duplicate that experience, but it will bring heaven (or hell) closer to earth.

Brazzy Star (3 pdhis) =  3 bottles @ $12.00 each, PayPal.Me/hotsaucesbpk  

My go to sauce. Made with Brazilian Starfish chilies, this is a meaty brew with a soul. 

Beni (5- pdhis) =  4 bottles @ $12.00 each, PayPal.Me/hotsaucesbpk  

Normally among my highest yield plant, my Beni Highlands plant had a comme ci comme ça year. The peppers make a nice, fresh sauce that should be enjoyed now. This is not a brew that develops as it sits on the shelf (ages). When you receive it, use it. This sauce reminds me of summer. 

R.i.P., Stanley "More Than a Mere Mortal" Martin Lieber

I swear when I write, I thought about him this morning. During my afternoon class, my iPhone pinged the news and I had to gather myself... but I wasn’t surprised.

When I was a kid interning at Marvel Comics, I kind of met Stan (the Man) Lee. At the time, he wasn’t much of a physical presence around the midtown offices; but when he was there, everyone knew it. There was a wave of his energy that moved through the building. I worked at a desk in the hallway and before I could process the idea of the actual person, I sensed him — the normal Marvel buzz shifted its buzziness — and then he was passing me with a smile and a “Hey kiddo.” I was 18 and, striding by like a jaunty West Wind, was my Charles Dickens. He was taller than I expected, elegant, and mannerly. He entered an editor’s office, closed the door, and I waited for him to re-emerge, but he didn’t. I don’t know how he disappeared — there was no other way to exit but to pass me by; however, I knew Stan Lee was gone before I knew he was gone. I just felt it... like this morning.

Eternally Opessimistic [sic]

Optimism can be painful. 

When Bush #1 was president and my political awareness started to really form, I thought it couldn’t ever get any worse. When Newt planted the seed of what was to become Trumpism (when Trump was just an Ivory Tower blowhard), I thought it couldn’t get any worse. When Bush #2 used “compassionate conservatism” to level the economy and wage another crusade in the Middle East, I thought it couldn’t get any worse. And then there was a break when things didn’t get any worse and my positive outlook was validated. Now, I wake up every single morning in the torrent of a Tweetstorm with the thought that it couldn’t get any worse as it continues to get worse. The daily disappointment is crippling! In no way am I apologizing for my reactions to the Bushes and the Newts of the past 30 years, but Damn(!), what I would do for those days when attempted versions of civility and  reasonability were, more often than not, an American responsibility. Now... now, our American discourse is completely soiled, seemingly well beyond an industrial stain remover, as a steady stream of verbal diarrhea is sprayed from the Puckered Anus of the White House. I’m covered in shit, you’re covered in shit, the whole country is covered in shit... and I’d like to believe it couldn’t get any worse; but the odor is horrendous and it’s getting harder to imagine a future without this excrement all over everything. Maybe it’s the confusion of morning after another fitful sleep, but I’m no longer saying, “It couldn’t get any worse” because it did and it did and it did get worse; but yet, there is still promise: It’s not the worst it could be... I mean, after the events of the last two weeks (and the last two years!) and the direction America seems to be traveling, my imagination can really imagine what the worst could be and this ain’t quite it... yet. So, starting today, in the earlier glow of daylight savings and on the cusp of the seemingly hopeful midterm elections, I’m going to stop comparing today to the halcyon days of Bushes and Clintons and Obamas because there may be a time, say ten years from now, should the Earth still be inhabitable and I still be alive, when I look back at two terms of Trump and long for the shittiness of these days. Starting this morning, I’m adjusting my perspective: I’m no longer saying, “It couldn’t get any worse,” and instead I’m saying, “It’s unlikely to get better.” Somehow, someway, this makes today seem okay.

Pessimism is less painful and, in an attempt at being in the here and now, the only optimistic way to embrace the day until the time comes when the worst is behind us -- and it will be! -- is to say, "It's unlikely to get better." Repeat. 

Optimistically pessimistic or pessimistically optimistic? Whatever gets me, you, us through the day.