You know those condiments. The ones you don’t fret about finishing because you know there’s a back-up lying in wait – so not as to ever leave a gaping hole in your pantry or fridge supply. The ones that turn a boring meal into a certified banger in one fell swoop. The culinary ride-or-dies. Below, Broadsheet’s editors share the one condiment – be it an oil, sauce, spread or otherwise – they simply can’t live without.
Beerenberg sweet mustard pickle
As an SA native, I’ve never known a fridge without Beerenberg. The Adelaide Hills-based business makes a tomato sauce that my family jokes about being drinkable. But the sweet, sweet mustard pickle is what’s got me in a chokehold. Many Beerenberg products are named after real people; this one’s called Karen, but I guarantee there’ll be no need to speak to the manager. It’s exquisite. Vibrant. Textural. Perfectly balanced. Moderation ceases to exist when it’s slapped with mild cheddar on these rosemary crackers.
- Tomas Telegramma, Melbourne editor
Lao Gan Ma crispy chilli in oil
I very recently banned myself from buying Lao Gan Ma because I was consuming more flavoured oil with crispy fried bits than was probably healthy. I caved and bought a jar after just two weeks (and then promptly bought another to leave in the office). The blend of red-tinged oil and crunchy chilli flakes, onion, salt and MSG is an umami flavour bomb that goes well with most things – I’ve had it with sushi, salads, eggs, dumplings, fried chicken – the list goes on. But I should really stop going through it so quickly.
- Chynna Santos, editorial assistant and Things To Do editor
EY Sambal Sauce
Owner of Brisbane’s Emily Yeoh Restaurant (and Attica alum and former Masterchef contestant) Emily Yeoh started punching out this sambal sauce as a side hustle last year, and I’ve been hooked ever since. Yeoh grew up in Kota Kinabalu in Malaysia and told me how locals there basically put it in everything. So, I took her lead. I put it in my noods and stir-fries, on my fried rice, in my burgers, all over my eggs, just on some toast. This is a particularly fragrant take, with plenty of lemongrass, garlic, onion, shrimp paste and, of course, heaps of chilli. It’s perhaps not the best for my sensitive gut but I don’t give a shit if it gives me the shits – it’s too good.
- Matt Shea, Brisbane editor-at-large
Green Tabasco
I have a tattoo of my favourite condiment on my right forearm – a fine black outline of a bottle of Tabasco measuring about three centimetres. It’s not flashy nor in-your-face, much like my favourite of the Tabasco sauces: the green-jalapeno one. I love that tattoo as much as I delight at liberally splashing the Louisiana-born, vinegar-based hot sauce on almost everything. Don’t get me wrong, I love the original red sauce born in 1868, enjoy the chipotle-pepper sauce version and the big-hitting habanero one. I even have the fancy 150-year anniversary Tabasco made with sparkling-wine vinegar. They are very fine indeed, but it’s the chilli-sauce-for-every-occasion green Tabasco I love best. There are thousands of hot sauces on the market – so many have launched since I got the tattoo; many, many excellent Aussie ones too (I am a huge fan of Rough Rice from Tassie). But, as I say to anyone who asks why I have a tattoo of Tabasco on my arm, “It’s the king of hot sauce, why wouldn’t I?”
- Sarah Norris, national editor
Mayo
Any mayo, really, but ideally Japanese Kewpie for its staunch yolks-only approach, respectable thwack of MSG and delightfully squeezable squeezy bottle. It’s a fat-loaded flavour conduit excellent at balancing out big flavours; a vessel to envelope in silky, eggy luxury whatever you throw its way. Dip your fish in it, your meats, your fried chicken. Spread it on your cheese toastie exterior for more crunch and less burn. You can straight-up dress your salads in this stuff (admittedly some radicals might add vinegar). Tartare would be nothing without it; coleslaw dry and pointless. It’s mayo, and it’s spectacular.
- Ellen Fraser, former executive producer
Goan Cuisine green chilli jam
Over the years, my family has become quite dependent on this hot, tangy jam. When it disappeared from our local supermarket shelves a couple of years ago, my brother resorted to shipping it in bulk. Now, we troop down to his place every few weeks with our boiled jam jars, looking for a refill from his bucket-sized stockpile. Handmade in south Sydney with mounds of fresh chillies, it’s sweet and faintly astringent, and goes just as well with a Goan fish curry as a toasted ham sandwich, a pie or a firm, bitey cheese.
- Annie Toller, subeditor
Chilli oil
Is it a cop-out to say chilli oil without naming any one brand? It doesn’t matter if you place your trust in Lao Gan Ma or a locally made specimen such as The Chilli Oil, as long as there’s something spicy and fragrant in the pantry, rice tastes twice as nice, pizza becomes (even more of) an event and you’ll always be just 10 seconds away from chilli-oil mayo – the easiest way to show your sandwiches that you love them.
- Max Veenhuyzen, Perth editor-at-large
Lao Gan Ma hot pepper condiment
Also known as “old godmother”, this crispy, umami chilli oil from China has become an addictive presence in my life of late. The reason? Pure, unadulterated monosodium glutamate. This stuff is laced with it, along with fried onions and teeny-tiny soybeans that make for a crunchy little mid-meal snack. I spoon criminal amounts on stir-fries, dumplings, scrambled eggs or basically anything that isn’t so weird as to oust me as a full-blown junkie. Fancier versions exist, but I love godmother best.
- Dan Cunningham, directory editor
Dijon mustard
I’m keen as. I call on this sharp, tangy one-two punch for salad vinaigrettes (every day), marinades, sandwiches and sauces. Baked salmon or chicken goes next level with a little mustard, butter and herbs. Just go easy on the tablespoons – unless you want an acid tongue.
- Louise Baxter, subeditor
New Mexico green chile sauce or salsa
I first tasted this delightful condiment in Santa Fe, New Mexico, where you’ll find the stuff on almost every table in town. It’s not something you tend to find in cafes or restaurants outside the state, which is sad for the world. The New Mexico or Hatch green chile is hot, but not too hot. It’s sweet, but not very sweet. If the pepper’s been roasted, it’s smoky, but not in an overwhelming way. It is excellent on eggs, in sandwiches or on tacos. On meat. Poultry. Probably pizza. There is no food or meal it cannot improve (apart from maybe dessert, and even then, I wouldn’t put it past it). Slight issue. It’s not really that available in Australia. You can buy it online, but it’ll cost you. Alternatively, get your American mate to order you some and post it over.
- Katya Wachtel, editorial director
Beaver Coney Island hot dog mustard
I don’t think I’m being dramatic when I say that mustard is everything to me. I love every kind, even that hot English mustard that makes your face hurt. But I recently discovered this Beaver mustard on my weekly grocery shop at Oasis in Melbourne. It has changed me. It’s similar to McDonald’s Big Mac sauce, but more complex, mature – like Big Mac sauce got its first real job and is now saving for a home loan. There are some seriously punchy flavours in this mustard – onions, pickles, chillies, tomatoes and even some chunks of red capsicum. The folks at Beaver say it’s made for hot dogs, but I think this pickle-mustard does its best work when served alongside a big bag of hot, salty chips.
- Simone Crick, studio director
