In Stoneybatter, a cafe owner is building the biggest collection of made-in-Ireland hot sauces

Why? “I just love hot sauce,” says Mark Cronin, the proprietor at Bismarck.

 In Stoneybatter, a cafe owner is building the biggest collection of made-in-Ireland hot sauces
Mark Cronin (foreground) in Bismarck. Photo by Lois Kapila.

“They’re all over the place,” says Mark Cronin, stepping in one direction towards the counter and then switching to head the other way.

On the corner shelves are boxy bottles of Haggard Wolf’s hot sauce, and tall chunky bottles of Arán Magic Sauce, and Birdhouse’s Spicy Bum Burner Sauce with – just in case the name isn’t clear enough – three chili icons on the label.

On the counter, are the dinky bottles of hot sauces from Tongue Tied, with red chilli and orange, and jalapeño and apple.

Bismarck, the cafe and events space on Prussia Street in Stoneybatter, marked a year in business last Saturday.

One achievement of past months, says Cronin last Thursday, has been the accumulation of what he thinks is the biggest collection of hot sauces made in Ireland.

Cronin is from Macroom so lots of the food he sells is from Cork. “Cork first,” he says, with a chuckle. “And then, I will put up with other Irish.”

His motivation is pretty straightforward, he says, as he reads out samples from yet another display case by the front door. “I just love hot sauce.”

Small batches, big personalities

Cronin is a long-time enthusiast, he says. He was into Tabasco when that was pretty much the only hot sauce available in Ireland, he says.

So, it was natural to look at stocking sauces in the cafe.

Hot sauce production has ramped up in Ireland in recent years, accelerating during the pandemic when restaurateurs like the team behind Chimac began to look at how they could experiment a bit with their offerings.

Cronin stocked just a couple at first, he says. “Then people were recommending stuff.”

Producers also started to DM him on Instagram, he says, and he began to appreciate how each small producer was creating hot sauces with their own personalities.

Making sauces is such a lovely craft thing to do, he says. “You can do small batches.”

In a display near the cafe door are bottles of Banshee hot sauces – hot cranberry, and green jalapeño – made in Athy. Those are his latest addition, says Cronin.

Banshee launched in November, says Rob Rainsford, the man behind it, on the phone on Tuesday.

Rainsford works in innovation in the food and drink industry, and so is always fermenting, brewing, he says. “Naturally, I started making hot sauces for friends.”

Because it’s a side-gig and small batches, he doesn’t have to cut corners as bigger companies might, he says. “We use the best ingredients.”

At the moment, his sales are roughly half online and half in cafes and stores where he likes the vibe, he says. “I go to a place and I see it and I think, yeah, this fits the brand.”

Future plans

Ketchups have snuck in among the hot sauces on the shelves of Bismarck – like Spilly Milly’s Bloody Mary Ketchup.

The main ingredients of original hot sauces would be chilli, vinegar, salt and water, said Peter Constant, who runs Firebyrd, the hot chicken restaurants in Ranelagh and Dún Laoghaire.

Ketchups are tomato-based, he says.

Constant has also built up an offering of hot sauces, he says, inspired by his decade living in the United States, where supermarkets had shelves and shelves of varieties.

He has 240 hot sauces in stock, selling online and also in his shops. Customers come in to browse the sauces, he says. “A couple of people will come in each day.”

He has only a few made in Ireland at the moment, he says, so he isn’t staking a claim to Cronin’s crown. His favourite right now are DevilDog sauces out of Manchester, says Constant.

Back in Stoneybatter, Cronin says he would love to make his own hot sauce to add to the collection but there are already so many good producers. “And I just don’t have the time.”

Instead, he plans another vertical. “I’ve been dying to get a hot sauce festival, one weekend, here. Meet the producers,” he says.

He had it all thought out last summer, he says, but it didn’t come off. “I broke my ankle.”

Small producers are reliant on farmers’ markets and are flat-out too, he says. “The weekend is obviously their time to be busy.”

But he hopes to revive the idea for the coming summer, he says – and with a chili pepper-eating contest on the side.

Great! You’ve successfully signed up.

Welcome back! You've successfully signed in.

You've successfully subscribed to Dublin InQuirer.

Success! Check your email for magic link to sign-in.

Success! Your billing info has been updated.

Your billing was not updated.