Greetings from Carrboro,

I have a belt that I love. It was made by this guy in Brooklyn who works on the 5th floor of an old building that has no electricity. He does every single belt by hand – slowly and methodically – and sources his leather from an old rancher in Idaho. I’m not sure if it’s his relentless earnestness that makes his belts so wonderful or – if what I assume is correct – that it’s a personal trust fund that is the secret ingredient that allows him to pursue such a wholesome craft without any deep concern with impending bills. Because Brooklyn ain’t cheap. Even if you don’t have an electricity bill.

That same earnestness can haunt restaurants. Often it’s a self-inflicted wound. There will be an article in a food magazine that features a woman who grinds her own wheat berries daily for her restaurant’s bread. Another about a chef who makes their own mustard from scratch or presses their own olive oil. And then the countless photo shoots of smiling line cooks in their whites stooping to clip herbs in the near-perfect garden behind a sun-dappled restaurant. It’s almost impossible not to get caught by that romantic vision and naively reach for the ephemeral golden ring. Sleep? Who needs sleep? And money? What’s that?

Damn you, Thomas Keller.

Because it’s a struggle figuring out the limits of what you can and can’t do at any restaurant. Much less what you can and can’t do well. Making mayonnaise is relatively easy. Once. But gallon after gallon, day after day will make you crazy. And after all that is it as good as Duke’s? Probably (definitely?) not. And attempting to make ketchup is an utter fool’s errand. As it can be to try to consistently make your own bacon or believe that you can grow your own herbs at the quantity a commercial kitchen requires. And that’s just the merest iceberg tip of stupid things that I’ve tried over the years. All to no avail.

But there is one thing we do make religiously every year. And it’s always from about this time of year, when July fades into August, until the end of September. Hot sauce. Mainly because I love it and, unlike mayo or ketchup or bacon, I honestly think that ours is better than anything that I can buy from anyone else. Regardless of the hours it takes. Cross my heart.

From now through September we’ll make several versions. But all are made with basically the same recipe – locally grown chilis that are cleaned and smoked, then fermented for a few weeks with garlic and onions. It’s quite the process. The hot sauce is never too spicy and is thick enough to stay where you intend. And it’s good on everything. From scrambled eggs to steaks to oysters on the half-shell. You really can’t go wrong. The first 7 gallons get bottled tomorrow. To be completely transparent, we did use electricity.

This weekend @ Acme: Acme tomato plate. Pan-seared Carolina tuna.Ice-cold martinis. Acme wedge salad. Pecan-crusted fried chicken. Martha’s famous chili relleno. Pan-seared sea scallops. Street corn “ribs.” Tomato tartare. Blackened salmon. Shrimp & tasso ham tagliatelle. Compressed melon salad. Red fish etouffee. Southern tomato pie. Fried okra. Bento box BLT. Smash burgers. Rosé all day. Peach & blueberry cobbler with blackberry ice cream. Acme cornbread. Flash-fried flounder. Hot sauce, on the side.

Well, that’s all the news from Carrboro. The staff at Acme look forward to serving you soon.

Cheers,
The Staff at Acme