REVIEW: Zombie Apocalypse, by Torchbearer Sauces

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Ingredients: Bhut Jolokia Peppers, Habanero Peppers, Carrot, Mandarin Orange, Tomatoes, Distilled White Vinegar, Vegetable Oil, Garlic, Sugar, and other all natural spices.

Torchbearer Sauces from Mechanicsburg, PA, has to be the best-looking sauce company out there right now. Whoever does their branding and graphic design is a gold mine. When I walked by their booth at the Bowers Chile Pepper Festival last year, I was immediately drawn in by the hip-but-homey vibe and quirky aesthetic that they’re cultivating. So I talked to the nice folks at the booth for a minute and picked up a few of their sauces, including Zombie Apocalypse.

First of all, the label for this sauce is fantastic. And it’s made even cooler by the fact that the zombies on the front are cartoon renderings of the guys who own the company. From the image, it’s clear that these zombies prefer a big vat of face-melting hot sauce instead of the flesh of the living. I can relate! Add to that the fact that this sauce combines two things that I love – chilies and Halloween – and my hopes for this product went through the roof!

The color is beautiful: bright orange overall with dark flecks of spices and deep red flecks of what must be bhut jolokia (“ghost pepper”) skin.

The sauce smells wonderful. The best word to describe it is “fresh.” It smells like someone cut open a fresh habanero and a fresh bhut jolokia and stuck them under your nose – or about as close to that as you can come with a bottled sauce. But there’s also something in there that’s smoothing out the aroma, taking away the sharpness of the bhuts. You just want to keep smelling it.

The texture is very thick, like chilies and carrots coarsely pureed with a small amount of liquid. While it’s not at all sticky (there’s not enough sugar in there for that), it has a nice stick-to-your-food consistency. This also means that the sauce doesn’t pour easily. It’s a hit-the-neck-of-the-bottle sort of deal. If you’re taking a spoonful of it, some chewing is necessary.

The heat hits you pretty much immediately. There isn’t a slow build. It’s like rounding a corner in a post-apocalyptic, zombie-infested urban area and coming upon a herd: “Oh shit.” But aren’t we all kind of excited about that? … This is a very hot sauce. I got a solid burn that enveloped my entire mouth but peaked rather quickly – after only a couple of minutes – and developed into a pleasantly intense afterglow.

This sauce tastes like fresh chilies. So basically, it tastes like it smells. And the flavor is pretty typical of bhut jolokia-based sauces. There isn’t much of a vinegar taste at all. In fact, I couldn’t really taste any of the other ingredients. I was pretty surprised by this, having expected the mandarin oranges and tomatoes to figure more prominently. I couldn’t specifically detect any garlic. Flavor-wise, the other ingredients seem to only serve the purpose of rounding out the sauce with a certain “je ne sais quois.” While I can’t pick out the flavor of the carrots, I can see and feel their texture adding body to the sauce.

It’s worth noting that for Zombie Apocalypse, Torchbearer uses chilies that are locally-grown in Pennsylvania. So it’s nice to have a sauce that features those chilies right up front.

Finally, a word about the price: At $20 a bottle, Zombie Apocalypse is pretty steep. But Torchbearer has produced a quality product, and they seem like a company that’s worth supporting. So I’ll let it slide.

Bottom line: Zombie Apocalypse smells and tastes fresh. It’s a thick, coarsely pureed sauce that features the chilies right up front. It’s hot as hell. And with the beautiful orange color of the sauce and the hip label, it’ll look great in your hot sauce collection. It’s a little expensive, but I’m willing to pay for the quality.

REVIEW: Skobiyan, by The Hippy Seed Company

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Ingredients: Nashi Pears, Trinidad Scorpions, Lemon and Lime Juice, Red and White Vinegar, Sugar, Pepper Mix, Salt, and Spices.

I’ve been following The Hippy Seed Company for a long time. The guy behind it all is Neil Smith, a proud Aussie who’s famous among chiliheads for his pod tests and sauce reviews on YouTube. Neil knows his stuff, and his videos are highly entertaining and informative while maintaining a casual, DIY style.

Needless to say, I’ve been excited to try one of their signature sauces – Skobiyan – for a while. So, I decided to put in an order and have a bottle shipped to me all the way from the Land Down Under. The Hippy Seed Company’s order process isn’t automated. They do things the semi-old-fashioned way, which means that you have to send them an email and tell them what you want to order. But they were prompt with their responses, very helpful with my shipping questions (shipping to the U.S. costs more than the sauce itself), and sent my package without delay. The sauce arrived in great condition – packed in a hard cardboard tube – and it did not disappoint.

As with all their other sauces, Skobiyan is handmade and all natural. The “use by” date on the bottle is even handwritten. The label looks like it was printed at home on an inkjet printer and applied manually, but the presentation isn’t shoddy or off-putting; it’s neat, quaint, and authentic. I assume the name “Skobiyan” is a bastardization of the name of the sauce’s star chili: the Trinidad Scorpion “Butch T,” once the hottest chilies in the world.

The smell and flavor of this sauce are quite unique. When I opened the sauce, the first thing I noticed was the sweet smell from those nashi pears – or Asian pears, as we call them in the U.S. The sauce smelled great, but it didn’t “smell hot” right off the bat. Rather, the aroma of the Trinidad Scorpion chilies came up second and was very smooth.

The sauce poured nicely onto the spoon. It has a smooth texture like a thick puree and a touch of that characteristic sticky viscosity that dissolved sugar tends to produce. I could easily see coarse-ground black peppercorns and white flecks of pulverized chili seeds, but I couldn’t see bits of any other spices. So, whatever the other spices in this sauce are, they’re likely to have been in powder form.

The taste of the sauce mirrors the smell. It’s very sweet at first and goes down smooth. Then, the heat creeps in over the course of a few seconds and builds quickly. Even though those Asian pears are the base of this sauce, the scorpions make their presence known quickly. They gave me a very strong – but still tolerable – mouth-burn that sustained for several minutes. I’m not sure what other chilies they’re using in the “pepper mix,” but they surely help to round things out. The black pepper and other spices add a savory depth to the sauce.

The sauce is very hot, and it could certainly knock the uninitiated to the floor, but it strikes me as a very usable sauce. While a little would go a long way here, this is not at all a heat-for-heat’s-sake sauce. The pears, sugar, lemon, and lime quell the flames of the scorpions enough for most to be able to enjoy the flavor of these otherwise-extraordinarily-hot chilies.

Bottom line: This is a great sauce that packs a serious punch, and it’s worth jumping through the old-fashioned ordering hoops, paying the extra shipping, and waiting to get it. It successfully accomplishes something very difficult to achieve: having an odd and unique flavor profile that somehow seems like it would go with just about anything. And, as Neil would say, “It’s a rippa!”

“BACKA MA THROAT!!!”