Ode to Hot Sauce.



O, hot sauce I can write about until the cows come home;

How some of it will burn your gums and turn your tongue to loam;

And others have a subtle way of sneaking up on you,

Delaying their eruption until the day is through.


It comes in little bottles with red caps or corks of wood;

It really is a condiment by most misunderstood.

Its flavor should bring tears of joy, not tears of membranes wracked

With searing heat as if by devils constantly attacked.


It can turn a heavy dish into a charming meal,

And give to lifeless casseroles a ringing, sincere zeal.

But use it with discretion, for all love and mercy please!

Otherwise your palate will become a hive of bees.

(Inspired by a story in the New York Daily News)