(Bloomberg) — The coaches and quarterbacks will be judged for the game. The brands and ad agencies will be judged for the commercials. But the snack spread—that’s all on you. But no need to call an audible: Here’s the playbook for sauces, toppings, and dips that’ll chart a surefire course to Game Day victory.
Wings
It’s not hyperbole to say that the success of a Super Bowl spread can be judged entirely on the basis of the wings. And not even so much on the wings themselves: They are, after all just a messy, meaty vehicle for sauce. Nail that, and everything else falls into place.
Classic: Before the first Buffalonian thought to mix hot sauce and butter to make what we think of as wing sauce, folks in Washington, D.C., and Chicago were doing the Mambo (or Mumbo), slathering this ketchup-based barbecue sauce on wings—and anything else that came off the grill or out of the fryer. Washington natives Nyles and Andrew Burton offer a trio of takes on mambo sauce Uncle Dell’s Mambo Sauces: Classic, Spicy, and a horseradish- and lemon-tinged cocktail sauce. $7.50
New: Bachan’s has been doing a brisk business in “teriyaki-ish” sauces since 2019, when Justin Gill began selling sauces based on his grandmother’s recipe. Along with Original, Gluten Free, and Hot and Spicy, the company recently added Yuzu, adding a citrus punch to their sweet blend of soy, ginger, sesame oil, and more. $14
Wild Card: Red Boat, loved by chefs for its premium Vietnamese fish sauce, uses that ingredient to give an unusual depth of flavor to its Kho sauce. Flavored with black pepper, shallots, ginger, and coconut sugar, it gives wings a caramelized richness without being cloying. $9
Burgers
The only food that can possibly match the big game’s reputation for all-American excess is the hamburger. Argue all you want about grilled or griddled, thick or thin, seasoned or not; there’s no debate that a burger is made or broken by its toppings.
Classic: The world is full of fancy, artisanal ketchups, most of which have one thing in common: They disappoint. You can play it safe and go with Heinz or, if you want to go big—as in Texas Big—set out bottles of Whataburger’s regular and Spicy ketchups. $11 for a 3-pack
New: Blackberry Farm in Walland, Tenn., has become synonymous with a particular kind of sophistication that looks ahead but remains very much rooted in the South. Its new Smoked Onion Jam is all of that in a jar: Georgia vidalia onions smoked down to concentrate their sweetness, then mixed with sherry vinegar and benne seeds. $14
Wild Card: We’ve already shown that peanut butter on a burger is, while a little strange at first blush, comfort food par excellence. ”Freaking delicious,” even. Go a step beyond Skippy with scotch bonnet pepper-imbued Lavi spicy peanut butter from Haiti. The product of a collaboration between Frank Giustra’s Acceso Group and Partners in Health, it supports a network of smallholder farms while elevating burgers and more. $10
Chips
A chip—tortilla, potato, plantain, whatever—is, if we’re being honest with ourselves, just a salty, crispy conveyor belt for some kind of dip.
Classic: How many kinds of salsa are there? Few people have spent more time contemplating the possibilities and permutations than Alex Stupak. The chip and salsa sampler from his Empellón Taqueria restaurants comes with seven different jars of salsa, from classic tomato-chipotle and salsa verde to more exotic offerings such as smoked cashew salsa. $109 via Goldbelly
New: Conceptually, there’s nothing new about French onion dip; it’s been a snack table stalwart for as long as potato chips have been sold in bags. Mother Raw forgoes the sour cream—or any dairy, for that matter—in its new version, getting creaminess from hemp and white chia seeds, among other organic ingredients. $7
Wild Card: It’s been 30 years since salsa first outsold ketchup in the U.S. You’d think that after three decades of dominance, every variant has been tried. Not so: Alaskan kelp-trapreneurs Barnicle Foods give their quartet of salsas an umami wallop with locally grown and harvested seaweeds. $8
Crudités
Unless you plan to eat a whole bowl, salsa doesn’t count as a vegetable. (Sorry!) A platter of carrots, celery, and other healthy bites tell your guests you care about them. Great stuff to dip that rabbit food in tells them that you love them.
Classic: Southern staple Comeback Sauce is simple on the surface: mayo, ketchup, and a little something to give it some kick. The artistry is in the ratios. This version, from Mashama Bailey’s Savannah, Ga., restaurant the Grey nails it, with its kick coming from deftly deployed serrano chiles. $49 for two via Goldbelly
New: Is there anything ranch dressing can’t do? The same question might be asked of aquafaba, the chickpea cooking liquid that can be whipped into meringue and otherwise give dairy-like body wherever it’s deployed. Vegan startup Fabalish uses it in its line of dips and sauces, which include Queso, Tzatziki, and Ranch. $10
Wild Card: The fondue-like Italian dip bagna cauda (“hot bath”) is an ancient concoction of olive oil, butter, anchovies, and prodigious quantities of garlic. Trading the anchovies for impossibly rich crab fat (called miso) is the stroke of genius employed in the indulgent Tinned Crab Miso Bagna Cauda, hailing from Hokkaido in the north of Japan. $14
Ice Cream
Rounding out the spread with something sweet can bring out the excited little kid in even the most grizzled gridiron gladiator, while also soothing any heartbreak the game may deliver.
Classic: Nothing is more fundamental than hot fudge. American Spoon’s Chocolate Fudge Sauce is Midwestern wholesomeness, elevated. It uses Askinosie bean-to-bar chocolate, regionally sourced cream, and a touch of vanilla. The smart play is to add a jar of brandied cherries to your order from this upper Michigan purveyor. $13
New: The new Whiskey Caramel Sauce from St. Louis chocolatiers André’s Confiserie Suisse tastes like it’s been around forever. Rich and balanced, braced with J. Rieger & Co.’s Kansas City Whiskey, you’d be forgiven for wanting to sip this straight from the jar. $10
Wild Card: Salsa. Seriously. Masienda, importers of the heirloom Mexican corn varieties used in superior tortillas everywhere, prompt a whole rethinking of oli-based salsa macha with its Pura Macha. Among the four flavors are ones that combine cacao nibs with dried cherries, guajillo, and chipotle peppers, with grapeseed oil, brown sugar, and sea salt. There’s also a coffee and peanut one, made fiery with a combination of chipotle, morita, and pasilla chiles. $18
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