Nearly
a decade ago, at a great little marina on the
island of Manga, just off Cartagena, Colombia,
I discovered a pungent green chili sauce, hot
but not too hot. It had the fragrance of rich
vinegar and crushed pepper blooms. It was the
best hot sauce I'd ever tried. Its name
was Ají Amazona.
When I remarked upon the
sauce to my pal, the marina's owner, an expatriate
Aussie named Norm Bennett, he replied, "Pretty
good stuff, isn't it? I know the guy who makes
it".
The factory was a short taxi
ride away, so I went to buy a case. The proprietor,
Jorge Araujo, had been in the wholesale pepper
business, supplying produce to larger companies,
when a "miracle" happened: an accidental cross-pollination
between cayenne peppers and a local variety
called pipón, which no one really wanted. The
pepper that resulted was a rare specimen indeed.
"It had a wonderful color like no other I'd
ever seen," said Araujo. Eventually he christened
this accidental hybrid The Amazona, for the
region where he believes all chilies originated.
Jorge and I became friends;
Norm and I remained friends, and I visited Cartagena
whenever I had the chance, because I love the
old walled city there, and it was fun staying
on one of Norm's abandoned sailboats at his
little marina.
It was at that little marina,
slightly more than a year ago, sitting over
drinks and watching the sun set over Cartagena
Bay, that I discussed with Jorge the possibility
of making a couple of hot sauces just for me
and my friends. I wanted the same fragrance
of wild chilies, no chemical additives, just
the taste of pure peppers and South American
cane vinegar aged in kegs. I also wanted
the sauces to reflect the personalities of characters
in my novels. Jorge was not only willing,
he was enthusiastic.
For Tomlinson's Colombian
Gold, he blended mountain passion fruit, Colombian
mangoes and Amazonian chilies into a wonderfully
rich, mild sauce that is superb on any food.
For Doc Ford's Green Flash, he kept the recipe
pure, pragmatic and straightforward: Chilies
from the Amazon Basin, vinegar and sea salt.
The results? Judge
for yourselves, but I think these two sauces
are spectacular. Keep these large bottles
refrigerated, and the fresh chili-blossom taste
will last and last.
My only regret is that our
Aussie friend, Norm, is not around to share
the fun. He was arrested by Colombian
authorities more than two years ago.
I visited him three times in prison there (believe
me, NEVER risk going to prison in Colombia),
and he has since disappeared -- escaped, some
say, but I
have yet to learn the truth.
So, while enjoying the sauce,
drink a beer for my old friend, Norm Bennett.
I'll keep you updated.
Randy Wayne White
***
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