
Chef Remy
Cajun All-Purpose Seasoning
A brick-red Louisiana spice blend with layered heat, earthy herbs, and aromatic depth that transforms anything it touches into something worth fighting over at the dinner table.
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Created by Chef Remy
Patient fermentation transforms fresh cayenne peppers into liquid fire with depth and soul, the kind of sauce that turns every meal into something worth remembering.
Three ingredients. That's all it takes. Fresh cayenne peppers, salt, and vinegar. But the magic lives in the waiting.
My grandmother Evangeline kept a crock of fermenting peppers on her back porch every summer. The smell would hit you before you reached the screen door. Sharp, alive, a little dangerous. She taught me that real hot sauce isn't about burning your mouth. It's about flavor that happens to be hot. The fermentation breaks down the peppers, mellows the raw heat, and builds complexity you cannot rush.
At Lagniappe, we go through gallons of this sauce every week. It sits on every table, and regulars know to shake it before they pour. The sediment at the bottom is where the flavor concentrates. I've been making this same recipe for thirty years, and I still get excited when I crack open a fresh batch. That first whiff tells you everything: tangy, bright, with heat that promises to linger.
Store-bought sauce is fine for emergencies. But once you taste what patience produces, you'll never go back. Two weeks of fermentation. That's the price of admission. Your reward is a sauce with soul.
Quantity
1 pound
stems removed
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 cup
Quantity
1/2 teaspoon
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| fresh cayenne peppersstems removed | 1 pound |
| kosher salt | 2 tablespoons |
| distilled white vinegar | 1 cup |
| granulated sugar (optional) | 1/2 teaspoon |
Rinse the cayenne peppers and pat them completely dry. Moisture is fine inside the ferment, but surface water can introduce unwanted bacteria. Slice each pepper into rough chunks, about half an inch. Leave the seeds and ribs. That's where the heat lives, and we want every bit of it. The kitchen will start to smell alive. Your eyes might water. That's how you know you're working with honest peppers.
Toss the pepper pieces with the kosher salt in a large bowl. Using a wooden spoon or potato masher, crush the peppers until they release their juices. Work them for a solid five minutes. The salt draws out liquid, which creates the brine your peppers will ferment in. You should have a wet, pulpy mash with visible juice pooling at the bottom.
Transfer the mashed peppers and all their liquid to a clean glass jar. A quart mason jar works perfectly. Press down firmly to eliminate air pockets. The peppers should be submerged in their own juice. If they're not quite covered, add a teaspoon of salt dissolved in two tablespoons of water. Cover loosely with cheesecloth or a coffee filter secured with a rubber band. The ferment needs to breathe but stay protected from dust and flies.
Set the jar in a cool spot away from direct sunlight. Room temperature is perfect, somewhere between 65 and 75 degrees. Within two or three days, you'll see tiny bubbles rising through the mash. That's the good bacteria doing their work. The smell will shift from raw pepper to something tangier, almost wine-like. Stir once daily and push any floating peppers back under the brine. Ferment for at least two weeks. Three weeks produces even deeper flavor.
When fermentation is complete, the bubbling will slow and the mash will smell pleasantly sour with a fruity edge beneath the heat. Transfer everything to a blender. Add the vinegar and the optional sugar if you want to round out the acidity. Blend on high for a full two minutes until completely smooth. The color will brighten to a vibrant orange-red.
For a traditional pourable sauce, strain through a fine-mesh sieve, pressing firmly on the solids with a rubber spatula to extract every drop of liquid. For a thicker, more rustic sauce with body, skip the straining. At Lagniappe we strain it, but I keep the solids to stir into mayonnaise for sandwiches. Nothing goes to waste.
Pour the finished sauce into clean glass bottles with tight-fitting caps. The sauce is ready now, but it improves with age. After a month in the refrigerator, the flavors marry and the heat smooths out. Shake before using. The vinegar tends to separate and rise to the top, which is natural and correct. Your hot sauce will keep refrigerated for at least a year, though it never lasts that long in my house.
1 serving (about 15g)
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