I’ve tried them all, those bot­tled incen­di­aries. I’ve slathered ribs with Satan’s Blood, mar­i­nat­ed chick­en wings in Marie Sharp’s Habanero, dot­ted my roast veg­eta­bles with Mike’s Hot Hon­ey and dipped chips in Pro­fes­sor Phardt­pounders Colon Cleaner.

But I always return to Tabas­co Pep­per Sauce. To me, it’s best because its heat is clean. Just a neat sear. The Tabas­co peo­ple don’t pump it full of puréed man­go, say, or too many habaneros. It doesn’t sport an infer­nal name.

Above all, I find it more ver­sa­tile than oth­er hot sauces.

Here are my 10 excel­lent adven­tures with Tabas­co Pep­per Sauce.

10. The ulti­mate Tabas­co no-brain­er: on scram­bled eggs or an omelet.

9. All over pizza.

8. All over French fries.

7. Three drops in a can of reg­u­lar Coke. (Try it.)

6. Of a dozen oys­ters, six with two drops each. (This has been tried even in France. Even in Seattle.)

5. Does not miss with things Cajun.

4. On shrimp and grits, some in the base, some on the serving.

3. Five or six splurts in any large pot of soup or chow­der. The heat won’t much show, but the Tabasco’s vine­gar “lifts” all the flavors.

2. Dit­to for toma­to-based pas­ta sauces.

1. And this is the best: one wee drop on a small chunk of Parmi­giano-Reg­giano cheese.

The his­to­ry of shrimp and grits (some­times called “break­fast grits”) lays a line through the received his­to­ry of our coun­try. Orig­i­nal­ly an African dish of ground maize and shell­fish, shrimp and grits migrat­ed with slaves into the plan­ta­tion kitchens of the Low­coun­try of the Amer­i­can South.

In the mid-1980s, Craig Clai­borne, at the time food edi­tor of The New York Times, con­vinced a North Car­olin­ian cook named Bill Neal that Neal’s prepa­ra­tion of shrimp and grits was an authen­tic link back to the nation’s ori­gins and ought to be pop­u­lar­ized. The two men did just that.

Cooks and chefs through­out the South, indeed all over the coun­try, spin their takes on shrimp and grits. This is mine.

White Corn Grits with Shrimp

Soak­ing the grits overnight makes for a creami­er fin­ish, with lit­tle need to add but­ter (although a nice knob tastes deli­cious). Cook the shrimp in the fin­ished sauce. It’s con­ve­nient and it makes them even pinker, plus adds a whiff of sea breeze to the sauce. The entire recipe serves two nice­ly, with grits to spare if desired.

Ingre­di­ents

• 1 cup uncooked stone-ground white corn grits (see note)
• 4 cups fil­tered water, in two 2‑cup portions
• Salt and pepper
• 1 table­spoon unsalt­ed butter
• 2 table­spoons fruity extra-vir­gin olive oil
• 1/2 medi­um yel­low or white onion, diced
• 1 small car­rot, peeled and diced
• 1 rib cel­ery, diced
• 1 clove gar­lic, peeled and chopped
• 2 pinch­es herbes de Provence, crushed in fingertips
• 1/2 tea­spoon chile pow­der, heat lev­el your choice
• 6 squirts Tabas­co Pep­per Sauce (or more, to taste)
• Few grinds black pepper
• 1/4 tea­spoon kosher or sea salt
• 1 14-ounce can good-qual­i­ty whole peeled tomatoes
• 8 shrimp, raw, 16–20 size or larg­er, rinsed
• Fin­ished cooked grits, warm
• Fresh chives, chopped both into both small sticks and “con­fet­ti”
• Tabas­co Pep­per Sauce, for serving

Direc­tions

Start the grits the night before: Put the grits into a medi­um-sized, heavy-bot­tomed saucepan and add one por­tion of the water (2 cups). Stir them and let them set­tle for a minute; then skim off any chaff that floats, using the edge of a spoon or a fine-meshed strain­er. Cov­er the pot and let the grits soak overnight on the counter.

Cook the grits by set­ting the pot over medi­um heat. Bring the mix to a sim­mer, stir­ring con­stant­ly with a wood­en spoon, until the first starch takes hold, about 6–7 min­utes in. Turn the heat down to its low­est pos­si­ble setting.

Mean­while, heat the oth­er por­tion of the water (2 cups) in a small saucepan and keep it hot but not boiling.

As the grits cook, keep an eye on them and ladle in 1/2 cup of the hot water each time they thick­en enough to resist stir­ring, for a total of about 3 addi­tions of water and 20–25 min­utes total cook­ing, stir­ring occa­sion­al­ly. (You may or may not use up all the water.)

The grits should be creamy and ten­der but not bro­ken down and mushy. Add 1 tea­spoon salt and a few grind­ings of pep­per halfway through the cook­ing, and swirl in the but­ter at the end.

Mean­while, pre­pare the shrimps: In a medi­um-large saucepan, over medi­um-high heat, heat the olive oil and add the onions, car­rot and cel­ery and begin sweat­ing them, 3–4 min­utes. Add the gar­lic, low­er the heat slight­ly and cook 7 min­utes more. Add all the sea­son­ings (herbs, chile pow­der, Tabas­co, black pep­per and salt), mix them in well, then add the toma­toes, crush­ing them with a pota­to mash­er (or force­ful­ly in your hands as you add them).

Bring the mix­ture to a steady sim­mer and cook it, stir­ring once in a while, for 15 min­utes, the pot lid ajar. Remove from heat and set aside to cool a bit. Blend into a sauce with an immer­sion or oth­er blender, mind­ing splash­es if the mix­ture is still hot.

In a small saucepan, heat the sauce to a slow boil, add the shrimps and, when the sauce returns to a sim­mer, cook the shrimps for 5 min­utes, stir­ring a bit. Remove the shrimps with tongs, knock­ing off extra sauce, and place them on a warmed plate.

To serve, place 1/2 of the grits, pat­ted flat, in the cen­ter of a large plate with high sides. Ring the grits with 1/2 of the sauce, then top the grits with 4 of the shrimps and gar­nish with the 2 forms of chopped chives. Serve Tabas­co Pep­per Sauce alongside.

Note: You’ll want to start with true stone-ground white corn grits. Local­ly avail­able brands include Anson Mills Coarse White or Pen­cil Cob Grits or Bob’s Red Mill South­ern-Style White Corn Grits. This recipe isn’t fit for “quick grits” or “instant grits,” not as written.