The picture posted atop this column is an actual photo taken of the wall of hot sauce contained within a restaurant called, “Heaven on Seven,” housed at 111 N. Wabash Avenue, technically located just outside Chicago’s Loop district, I suppose, because the building, known as the Garland Building, erected in 1914, resides east of the “L” tracks on Wabash. Notice also the impressive array of hot sauces placed upon each of the tables in the photo.
Now, I don’t remember the sign on the wall, which reads, “Caution! Do not touch! Contents may explode!” but, as it’s been at least thirty years since I’ve visited Heaven on Seven, and it’s apparently now been four years since the restaurant closed permanently, perhaps you’ll excuse my failing memory.
Things I do recall about Heaven on Seven are that it was located in the Garland Building, on the seventh floor (hence the name), and they served up awesome Cajun and Creole food (think po’ boys, and soft-shell crab and red beans and rice) and enabled consumers to flame their lunch with one or more of the extensive collection of hot sauces available - I believe diners were allowed to visit the wall, and select to their heart’s content additional hot sauces to supplement the handful of bottles already located on their dining table. I also remember that the elevators in this building (remember: erected in 1914) continued to be managed by elevator operators, and featured that old-fashioned metal cage which was closed each time the elevator moved between floors.
As I said, my long-ago memories of this place may not be entirely accurate - I call upon other long-ago Chicagoans to set me straight in the comments section below.
If Heaven on Seven were still operating today, perhaps they would feature one or more of “The Best Hot Sauces According to Cooks, Recipe Developers, and the Strategist Staff,” as featured on nymag.com. To wit, this list includes:
Zab’s Hot Sauce (in an A-Z collection, this one would appear in the. . .well, you know).
Tabasco Pepper Sauce (an old-line favorite, it’s been around forever).
Cholula Original Hot Sauce (another ubiquitous choice).
Louisiana The Perfect Hot Sauce (I think all hot sauces come from Louisiana).
Mama Teav’s Hot Garlic (a crunchy hot sauce - hmmm. . .).
Boon Sauce Chili Oil (I’m sorry, I’m coming up empty here, regarding snarky comments - I got nothin’).
Acid League Raw Raw Seafood Hot Sauce (now we’re getting somewhere - a hint of things to come in this particular column).
Crystal Hot Sauce (this one looks a bit like a paunchy Tabasco bottle, with the red sauce, and a green band around the top).
Red Clay Verde Hot Sauce (appropriate during the current seasonal time of year in which the French Open is played).
Truff White Hot Sauce (hot sauce with truffles? I don’t know about that. Also, is it a “white” sauce, or a sauce that’s “white-hot?” This conundrum reinforces the “Panda who eats shoots & leaves” punctuation dilemma posed (Google it if you’re not familiar). So many questions. . .).
Valentina Salsa Picante (more appropriate on February 14th, perhaps).
So, that’s a list of the “best” hot sauces around. As with bands and racehorses, the category of hot sauces is rife with cutesy brand naming opportunities. Rule of Three took it upon itself to research this space (you know, we’re not getting paid to do this, but we did it anyway, in the eternal quest to satisfy our inner Rule No. 3 (“Amuse yourself”), and to identify the most clever and distinctive brand names. There are an astonishing number of names utilizing the words, “ass,” “butt,” “sphincter” and “anal,” usually used in conjunction with some form of the word, “fire,” or “blaze” or “explosion.” And, surprisingly, there are many Christmas-themed hot sauces, including name-checking Santa Claus, Frosty the Snowman and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer - who knew?
We set all of these combinations aside, relegating them to their own unique genres. Rather, we sought brand names which, if they didn’t cause us to guffaw or snort, they at least sparked a mild chuckle. The best examples we were able to uncover include:
A Little Nukey Hot Sauce (perhaps I’m reading too much into this name, but I sense the slightest hint of a double entendre).
Area 51 The Hot Sauce That Doesn’t Exist (an existential hot sauce - how can you resist?).
CaBoom! Gourmet Hot Sauce (we admire the marketer of this product resisting the urge to adopt the more logical “Kaboom” spelling, and prefer to believe that choice was intentional).
Crazy Jerry’s Brain Damage Mind Blowin’ Hot Sauce (our only note here is to ask, “What happened to the ‘g’ on the end of the word, ‘blowing?’ Were you trying to position the product as a bit more redneck-ey? You didn’t think that “Crazy Jerry” and “brain damage” and “mind blowing” were enough to accomplish that task?”).
Dia De Los Muertos (Day of the Dead) Piquine Tequila Pepper Sauce (very dark imagery, yes, but this one comes with its own souvenir skeleton keychain attached - classy!)
I Am Sofa King Stew Ped (the instructions on the bottle are to “Read out loud” - what are you, thirteen?).
PETA Garlic Habanero Hot Sauce (the bottle helpfully translates “PETA” for you: “People Eating Tasty Animals” - I may be going out on a limb here, but I think that’s a play on the real acronym for “PETA.”).
Ohio’s Own Pittsburgh Sucks Hot Sauce (wait, what? There’s no need for geographic name-calling here).
Slap Your Mama Habanero Hot Sauce (the implication stated on the label is that the hot sauce is so good that you’ll want to. . .well, you know).
Sure, these actual products possess clever names, but, I have to imagine that there might be some, as yet untapped product names which might appeal to your own inner Rule No. 3. Here are a couple of suggestions surfaced by the Rule of Three Branding and Geographic Squabble Resolution Department team:
Fire and Brimstone Hot Sauce (definitely an old school (or, perhaps Old Testament) hot sauce, it will certainly pack a powerful punch).
Louisiana Haute Sauce (this one is intended to be served discreetly at upscale, white-tablecloth restaurants, in which the chef firmly believes that his cuisine need not be additionally seasoned, because he has prepared it perfectly, but, you and I know better. And, we’ve already established that all hot sauces originate in Louisiana, so slapping that state’s name on the label is required, even if it’s concocted and bottled in New Jersey).
Fire in the Hole! Hot Sauce (as this suggestion appears as the headline of this column, I am guilty of providing a bit of foreshadowing. And, yes, I recognize that this one might be construed as a bit of a double entendre, and also encroaches on one of the genres set aside above, but, I stand by my reporting).
Don’t be surprised if you see these delightful hot sauces on the shelves of your local supermarket in the near future. Although, given the fragmented responsibilities assigned to the Rule of Three Branding and Geographic Squabble Resolution Department team, their energies might have been diverted toward settling that pesky Ohio/Pennsylvania turf battle, rather than focused on developing memorable hot sauce brand names. So, we leave it you: please provide your own memorable hot sauce brand names in the comments section below - thanks for playing!
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Cave Creek Beer, with a jalapeno at the bottom.
The overall brand could be "Dante's Infernal Sauce," with different sauces derived from the 7th layer of hell, such as "boiling rivulet" or "burning plain."