From gochujang to harissa to berbere to recado — how different kitchens taught fire to be a flavour, not a dare.
Chili did not exist in Asia, Africa, or Europe before the Columbian exchange. Within a hundred years it felt native everywhere it landed. That speed is why chili is a poor way to police authenticity and a wonderful way to read a kitchen’s character.
Korea fermented it with rice and soybean into gochujang. Tunisia ground it with garlic and caraway into harissa. Ethiopia built berbere with fenugreek and korarima. Sichuan made it numb. Mexico kept the fruit, the smoke, the variety — ancho, pasilla, habanero — because that is where the plant is from.
Cook with a chili that has a name
Generic “hot sauce” flattens this map. If a Nigerian jollof wants Scotch bonnet, it wants perfume as much as pain. If mapo tofu wants facing-heaven chili and doubanjiang, vinegar-based American hot sauce will make it taste lost. Match the paste to the plate.
Heat is a seasoning. If it is the only thing you can taste, you used it like a stunt.
Keep two or three pastes you love — maybe gochujang, a chili crisp, and a harissa — and you can travel a long way on a Tuesday without a specialty shop.
