E tu, McCormick?

Oh, McCormick! Why must you play such games?

I, of course, am talking about the “limited edition” Old Bay Hot Sauce 2.0 release.

In January of this year, a mere six months ago but a lifetime of lifestyle changes ago, the Hunt Valley-headquartered, world-renowned spice company hyped and then released a limited amount of hot sauce flavored with its famous and extremely popular Old Bay Seasoning.

The newborn Old Bay Hot Sauce (left) with its big sister, Old Bay Seasoning.
Photo by Marge Neal

We in the Delmarva region would probably die if the company ever chose to discontinue the life-sustaining substance. We have a container in the spice cabinet, a container on the boat, one with the camping gear, a back-up in the pantry and a back-up to the back-up. Some folks stocked up when the company announced it was going to switch from the iconic metal tins to plastic containers. It gets shipped to friends across the country when they can't find it in their local stores. It's in shakers in Maryland restaurants, right along side the ubiquitous salt and pepper. We don't get asked if we want fries with that; we get asked if we want Old Bay with that. And we ask for it if it isn't offered.

So the powers that be at McCormick had to have known in January that the “limited edition” hot sauce would be hoovered up faster and more efficiently than Brooks Robinson ever handled the hot corner at Memorial Stadium.

And sure enough, indeed it was. The bottles with the instantly recognizable red and yellow labels flew off store shelves into the welcoming arms of hoarders who then immediately advertised the stuff for $50 a bottle and up on eBay and other digital marketplaces.

And this was BEFORE Covid-19 shut down the world and made finding toilet paper, paper towels, flour, yeast and freezers, for God’s sake, a competitive sport.

You can’t tell me that isn’t exactly what McCormick officials hoped for. You can’t pay for that kind of publicity — even for a tried-and-true product that needs no introduction.

If this was some crazy, off-the-wall product created by a little mom-and-pop shop with little capital to work with, I could see this kind of treatment.

But this was a deep-pocketed, well-established business toying with its flagship product. They know it’s going to sell and they can afford to have product sit on shelves in every grocery store in the land.

But they had to play us.

I completely missed the first wave but was invited to join an email list so I could be “among the first” to know about a second release! Right! I’m sure I got that email a couple of days before millions of others got it.

I can always find basil without packing a knapsack for a day-long hunt. Ditto turmeric, paprika and even cream of tartar.

So why do we need to don safari gear and hire a Sherpa to find this hot sauce?

Make enough of the damn stuff to supply the demand, insist it have a fairly uniform retail price (instead of $3.49 at Weis and $5.99 at Giant) and keep it on the shelves.

I think the second release lasted for about 10 days before it was pretty much gone. I saw an article on myrecipes.com that stated more was due to hit shelves July 6. We’ll see. But I got enough to last for a while and to send a couple bottles out of state.

But there’s just no reason for McCormick to be doing this. Especially now. 

Right now, our lives have enough uncontrollable life-and-death stress without a beloved, trusted, popular company playing head games with us. We expect more. We don’t expect another kick in the teeth when we’re already in the dentist’s chair getting the last damage repaired.

Anyhoo, gotta go ... gonna sew bottles of hot sauce in my trench coat liner and hit the road.

Stay safe. And enjoy that hot sauce.

Some steamed shrimp (center), accompanied by White Marsh Brewing Company's seasonal  blueberry ale (served in a Union Brewery Divine glass, left) and the Old Bay sisters.
Photo by Marge Neal