
It all started with a simple goal: make dinner without setting off the smoke alarm or crying into a sink full of burnt rice. Ambitious, I know. But then I discovered Tenayo’s sauces, and like every good villain origin story, everything changed.
First up: the Roasted Poblano Mexican-Style Barbecue Sauce. It’s smoky, earthy, and has that “I know what I’m doing in the kitchen” flavor that’s completely undeserved, especially when standing over a pan of hastily-seared zucchini pretending it’s gourmet. This stuff has layers. It’s not like “peel the onion and sob” layers; it’s more like “is that cumin? And maybe some deep-seated childhood nostalgia?” I found myself basting chicken thighs like I was auditioning for a cooking competition, then drizzling it over roasted potatoes with a smug sense of culinary superiority.
And don’t even get me started on the Spicy Al Pastor Mexican-Style Barbecue Sauce. Do. Because it’s a pineapple-chili masterpiece that managed to save my sad attempt at pork tacos and turn them into something I would have paid $18 for at a food truck with reclaimed wood siding. It’s tangy and spicy, and it convinced me to start roasting cauliflower voluntarily. I even tossed it over eggs one morning because I thought, “What would a confident person do?” Spoiler: A confident person would slather this sauce on anything edible and call it brunch.
Honestly, the only downside is how hard it is to share. The bottle says, “Just remember to share it,” and I say, “No.” The moment my dinner guests discovered Tenayo’s Al Pastor Sauce, they started bringing extra Tupperware to dinner and calling dibs on leftovers. One guy even asked for a bottle in his Christmas stocking. We’re no longer speaking.
And while Tenayo claims to respect the “love, labor, and joy” of cooking, let’s be real—I mostly respect their ability to make my haphazard meals taste like I own a spice rack.
So, if you’re looking for a way to fake gourmet flair without selling your soul to Sunday meal prep, Tenayo’s sauces are your answer. Just don’t expect me to share.