Hey folks, I hope that you’re all enjoying the summer sun.
Today, I have for you some rather summery sauces that I picked up a little over two summers ago. A pair of highly fruity products that I tried all the way back at Reading Chilli Fest and have been just waiting to post my review of.
But, between freebies, newer items and the fact that I wanted to spread such fruity sauces out, it’s only now that you’re finally seeing this pair. The final pair, in fact, of Mango sauces from that event:
Both from companies that we’ve seen before and both from companies who’s fruitier items have impressed me in the past.
How will these two, in particular, compare, though, to the oodles of other mango sauces on the market?
Happy tuesday again, everyone. It’s been over a year since I last mentioned today’s company but their name is one that I’ll never forget and their marmalade was darn good as well.
This week, The Chillees – Nick and Francine Lee’s punny little business – makes its return to my table with their Orangatongue Tingler.
An orange habanero sauce that their three out of five rating suggests may, in fact, be more than just a tongue tingler.
Happy tuesday oncemore everyone. This week, before I review anything, I’d like to take a brief moment to talk about spelling.
There are several ways to spell the word “chilli”. There’s the common UK spelling I use but also the one L version, “chili”, popular in parts of the US. Or “chile”, a variation that I pronounce like “child” without the D when I have to remember web addresses.
That one’s my least favourite, since it doesn’t work within the (rather inconsistent) rules of my native language and can lead to confusing it with the country.
But today I have another for you. A fourth spelling, pioneered by a company I found at Reading:
Their name, featured in illuminated red font above that of their marmalade, combines the double L of the english with the E ending of the country and even the extra E before the S when one of the first two get pluralised.
Yet that’s not where it comes from. In reality, it’s just a pun. A play on the last name of Nick and Francine Lee, who work together to produce the range.
And it’s not the only pun on their “Twisting My Lemon Man” – A title that simply swaps two letters around in a popular phrase.
Nor is it the only item I intend to show you today.