Feel like something fruity, my fellow fiery food fans? It certainly seems like I do lately.
To get my fix, I’m taking a look at another freebie from one of the most heavy fruit users I know. Daddy Cool’s.
But compared to other fruit-based sauces, this one’s different. It’s brown. Or, as he and his northern friends call it, “Broon”.
That’s right folks, we’re looking at a chilli brown sauce!
Unlike the others in Daddy Cool’s range, there’s no heat rating graphic on this one. Only text reading “It’s a fruity beauty “mild brown sauce”” in its place at the bottom.
And while there are generic red chillies inside the sauce’s logo, there’s nothing on the front to say what sort he’s actually used at all.
The front of the label consists solely of that quote, the sauce’s logo and the same company one we saw on his Fatalii Atraction, all atop a splotchy, two-tone, brown background. A background that, in contrast to the complete lack of visible info about the chilli, conveys the brown sauce base of this sauce remarkably well.
And, while not obviously meaningful, the sauce’s logo is also pretty good looking.
A brown star within a red circle, itself held captive by a white one containing the “Broon Sauce” name. This brown text is outlined in bold black for extra contrast against its white circle background, while generic red chillies separate the two words and almost meet the points of that central star.
The star itself is outlined in white, to emphasize the boundary between its own dark shade and that of the inner circle, whilst the outer white circle is ringed, both inside and out, in yellow.
It’s very much in line with the superhero school of logo design, with simple shapes and bold colour contrasts, but we still know nothing about the pepper in this sauce. So perhaps it’s time to open it up.
The aroma from the bottle is tangy, fruity and just a tiny bit dark. Exactly what I’d expect from a brown sauce. There’s a touch of barbecue to it but nothing more than can be explained by its molasses content. No real clues as to what the chilli is yet.
As for its consistency, it’s pulpy, yet smooth and it flows well, despite the restrictor that I forgot to picture.
It was the sort you’d normally see on an oil, not a sauce like this, but it didn’t stay in the bottle too well and caused a lot of clogging when the sauce in the neck began to dry.
I can see why Daddy Cool put it in there. It did ease the pour initially. It’s just that it became too much of a liability as time went on and I had to chuck it.
But not the sauce. The sauce still lives in my cupboard, coming out for burgers and sausage sarnies like the good british condiment it is.
Its fruity, its tart, its tangy and molassesy. It’s everything a brown sauce should be, including being somewhat sour alongside that sweetness, but it’s also got a hint of chipotle in the mix. Too little to smell but enough to taste, enhancing the overall flavour combination without ever being the main event.
This is not really a chilli brown sauce. I know it’s marketed as such but it’s not.
What this is is a high quality brown sauce that just happens to use chipotle as one of its ingredients, along with dates, prunes, apples, orange juice and tamarind – a whole host of fruit where the common supermarket equivalent might use two at most.
It adds the same sort of earthy element as the tamarind, while bringing its own touch of smoke.
And yes, it does also add heat. About a
and barely that but, even if you’re as good with heat as I am, you can just about tell that it’s there in this sauce.
If you’re in it for the burn, though, you’re going to be disappointed. As will you if you’re after a serious smokiness. This isn’t a chipotle sauce, it’s a sauce with chipotle.
One for brown sauce lovers more than chilli lovers.