Her name is Maggi. She is the terrific unifier among most restaurants. I’ve seen her at a German restaurant at Lincoln Square, on a dining establishment of Polish in Noble Square, at restaurants of Mexico in Pilsen, on a Senegalese dining establishment in Yannawa, at Blue Elephant restaurant in Bangkok. Maggi may also be secretary present all over the world.

Maggi is a condiment. It resembles a second relative to soy sauce. It’s an ace in the hole used at several of my preferred ethnic dining establishments around town. And yet, when I provided a container to my food-savvy, Highland Park-born spouse, she stated she’s never come across the sauce. I brought a container of Maggi to my office friends as well as none have actually tasted it either.

Those who matured on Maggi sauce, as I did, as I was born in Bangkok, advocate its efficiency of transforming ho-hum foods interesting. It’s made from fermented wheat protein and filled with glutamic acids, but not gluten-free, which accounts for the abundant, tasty, meaty, umami-face punch the sauce gives. For Australian buddies, it’s not far off from Vegemite. Think about the preference of well-seasoned as well as well-charred beef roast. That’s the thing which makes Maggi spices so precariously habit-forming, you warrant brand-new foods to rush a few drops from rushed eggs to plates of pasta bolognese to a bloody Mary. Like a swig of fish sauce, it serves as an invisible amplifier of taste.

A few months ago, I still can remember sitting at Podhalanka, the Polish dining establishment in West Town, with my pal Alex. He has never become aware of Maggi sauce till that day when Alex sprayed a few drops right into the dill cabbage soup. After he came back to his own city, Alex told me he immediately ordered and bought a container.

To know about Maggi Seasoning Sauce [ซอสปรุงรสแม็กกี้, which is the term in Thai], please visit the website.