Of Sriracha

Pizza has always been special to me. So has popcorn.

But there has always been certain problems pertaining to them both. For one, there’s this whole, long process you have to go through in order to make the popcorn “presentable” for the actual inhaling: buttering it, salting it, etc. Moreover, once you actually sit down to eat it, you usually end up discovering that you have a top layer that is “over-salted,” while beneath, lies the same, blander stuff you didn’t want in the first place. Now, you have to get your hands all sticky, just to refine your dish and then get up and wash your hands (I mean, who has time for that anyways). All the while, you simply wanted to pop a bag, plop down on the couch and then begin stuffing your face with an unhealthy assortment of fatty kernels (or potato chips). But in all of these digressive proliferations of mine, do not lose hope! Illumination, or rather, a “moment of prolific enlightenment” occurred to me when the mother of my good self, brought before me a hitherto unheralded and strange substance: namely that of “Sriracha.”

Then these two things I did so combine.

And from that remarkable and I must say, dramatic moment, bred true happiness; for Sriracha is the hidden and abstruse puzzle piece to all that we search for in our food life. And my enlightenment bred verity in the full profundity of its candor as I realized the true and startling nature of my discovery.

My first discovery was that Sriracha went together well with most everything I put it to.

My second (and concluding) discovery was that Sriracha went together well with everything––although I do not mean to infer that “everything” went well with it.

With all of those fears, apprehensions, and rumors at last put to rest, I put this truth to use. No longer would I be burdened by heaping piles of pizza crusts as they threatened to over-top the edges of my plate in an overwhelming multitude of abundance. No longer would I have to forge my way through heaping piles of tasteless, bland, (quite nearly) steaming-hot rice. No longer would I have to imbrue my hands with substances of a particularly sticky nature, as is fully elucidated in the attempting of mine to pour sticky syrup all over my pancakes.

But then that’s a whole other story.

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