Several months ago I helped the Marines host a Wingfest to raise money.  I supplied several bottles of the hot sauce used in the original Buffalo recipe thanks to Terese, who had the foresight to put two cases of the magical stuff in our household shipment.

When the Marines sold the wings, only the Americans and a few brave Brazilians dug in.  If you remember from some of my earlier posts, the Brazilians are not into spicy food.  Not even black pepper.  So last Monday, being President’s Day, I decided to spend some time coming up with a Brazilian-wing sauce recipe.

I put a package of wings in the air fryer to cook and looked through my cabinets to see what all I could come up with.  There was a bottle of raspberry vinaigrette dressing with an expiration date of June 2010, but it still had the proper color.  And a bottle of Kraft’s Original BBQ sauce, dated sometime in 2011.  I had a bottle of Texas balsamic vinegar given to me by a boss about 4 years ago, and I also found some Texas olive oil.

Now I must tell you, there is a gentleman at the Consulate, who along with his wife loves cooking.  They produce an abundance of food at any setting they prepare.  He told me, “Hot wing sauce is easy to make.  Take any hot sauce, add vinegar and oil and Voila!”

So I figure I could take anything, add vinegar and oil and Voila!  I could see my future where the City of Sao Paulo would have a parade in my honor for creating the perfect wing sauce for Brazilians.  The recipe would go “viral” and I would reject any idea of patenting it, instead giving it to all mankind (and womankind).  Even the small town where I was born in Texas would have a Main Street parade in my honor.  Both blocks would be lined with my fellow Texans and we would end up at the Knights of Columbus Hall for drinks.

Well … the best laid plans often go awry.

I mixed the raspberry vinaigrette with some Texas olive oil and I notice strange flakes in the sauce, and the smell was not as enticing as I had hoped.  So, I put the mixture in the microwave to “meld”.  Within the 20 seconds in the microwave, I realized this was not going to be the mixture I had hoped for.  There is nothing I can compare to the smell of the ‘melded’ mixture.  It had turned into a slightly jelled mud and I quickly placed it in the sink and flushed it down with bleach.

I turned my attention to the 7-year-old BBQ sauce and decided it needed some hard liquor.

Now, let’s have a quick side note here.  Several years ago in Ankara, Terese took a flight home for a week and I decided to pamper myself with the perfect steak.  I went to the commissary at the local air base and pick a small flawless medallion steak and marinated it overnight in whiskey.  I did not want to use any of my good whiskey, so I choose a cheap bottle that I only offer to people who don’t know what good whiskey is.

After the marination, I placed it gently on a grill and cooked it to a perfect medium.  Laying with a large baked potato and a salad with Ranch dressing, it minded me of a Rembrandt painting.

The salad was refreshing.  The potato was delicious.  And the steak tasted like the cheap whiskey.  I did not finish it.

So, with that lesson learned I decided to use good liquor, and this time I chose Captain Morgan rum.

I mixed the ingredients together and proceeded to taste.  It was acceptable.  I dare say the Brazilians would approve, and it was decided by a majority vote, this is what I will use at the next Marine Wingfest.  … along with the original Buffalo sauce for the crazy Americans.

It may not make me famous among the Brazilians, or the townsfolk of my birth, but will suffice in bringing the Brazilians together with the Americans who like hot spicy food.

If nothing else, upon my demise when I arrive at the Pearly Gates, the kind gentleman with the white beard and flowing robe will say to me, “Oh, you’re the guy who made the perfect wing sauce for the Brazilians.  Yeah, I hear of you often!  Come on in and report to the kitchen immediately.”

With my luck they will hand me a list of things to do, with the first being, Empty the kitchen trash, and ending with C Me.