Since creating it for the first time onboard a boat back in 2015, Bobbie's Boat Sauce has been in or on the majority of things that I have put in my mouth. For eight years now, I've either putting Boat Sauce IN what I'm cooking, or ON what I'm eating, often both at once. Not just because I'm regularly coming up with new recipes and applications, but mostly because I'm addicted. Like Sy Sperling, I'm also a client.
One of the perks of starting or owning a business that we don't talk about enough is the excuse to create merchandise. I have a stunning bouquet of t-shirts from 2 cafes and an ill-conceived running/eating contest that, for better or worse, serve as a resume of sorts for my life. In 2019, I launched the iconic Boat Sauce Ringer-T. I love the oblique placement of the letters, as if the designer was laying out type on choppy seas. I love that it doesn't quite explain anything but remains true to the brand. I love that my four year old face is blazoned on chests across...
With its balance, acidity and depth, Bobbie's Boat Sauce is utility tool that gives you the courage to cook the beans, excavate the root vegetables, and keep good food from going bad by giving it a new life. You could go so far to say that Bobbie's Boat Sauce performs resurrections. I won't, but you could.
This year, I'm confronting a dish that I have been ambivalent about my entire life. As an equal opportunity lover of most cuisines, both high and low brow, I'm reluctant to ever say that I unilaterally don't like certain foods (barbeque chicken pizza withstanding; I will condemn it on my gravestone), but I have never cared for matzo brei, an Ashkenazi Jewish dish of pan-fried matzo and eggs.
