Sauce. Old Mule.

We are what I would call a condiment household. Ketchup. Dijon. Soy Sauce. Sriracha. Spicy Brown. Mayo. For these essential spreads, generic brands will suffice. But not for barbecue sauce, friends! The barbecue sauce in our fridge goes by a proper name: Old Mule. If that seems like a strange thing to be so particular about, I’d just like to stress you need to try this stuff. Thick, tangy, sweet and spicy. It’s got zip and some heat, but not the overwhelming sort. It’s spoon-licking good sauce.Sauce, barbecue, Old Mule, BBQWe especially love it because it takes a half-assed dinner like broiled chicken or burgers and makes it seem like you really made something happen. You should taste what a layer of the donkey sauce does on the top of some pedestrian baked meatloaf. You can dip fries in this stuff, put it in baked beans, slather on a pork sandwich. I have considered brushing my teeth with it. The only catch is, no one sells it in the stores up here because it’s made by a tiny family business. You need to order it online direct from the Blueridge mountains of North Carolina. I appreciate that you’re rolling your eyes, saying, “dude, I’m not mail-ordering barbecue sauce from North Carolina. Stop it.” Now imagine I am shaking you by the shoulders. Do we ever mess around about food on this site?! Take a leap of faith. And now in closing, we’d like to present you with this handsome picture of an old mule. Order the sauce!Old Mule

About the Author |
We earn our living selling New York City. The next day is never like the last. The last is never ordinary. We witness all sorts. We listen to the City’s noise. We devour its phenomenal food. On the Real is our documentary. It is your pack of unfiltered New York 100s.