Exclamation point indeed. You can read all about it at the rah-rah football site, but the long and the short of it is that I attempted to recreate Birmingham’s iconic “special dog” and ended up making a sauce that’s just that much better than any hot dog sauce I’ve ever had.
I don’t often brag on my concoctions, but this seriously has me wondering if the recipe is scalable and if so, how to get it bottled and on the grocery store shelves.
As it turns out, condiment king fantasies are a lot better than lottery winner fantasies. Embedded in the lottery fantasy is that inevitable moment at the country club or the mayor’s fundraiser when someone turns up a nose and says something along the line of “I don’t know why he’s here. It’s not like he earned anything.” And there isn’t a very good retort to that. “I risked two dollars on a ticket at a Stuckey’s!” doesn’t quite cut it.
But, as a condiment king, if you are at that same country club or mayoral function and your right to be present is questioned, you just pull back your seersucker jacket to reveal the revolver at your side and bellow “Sir. I say sir. Ima hafta take umbrage at that there disparagement!” and challenge him to a duel.