There’s no shortage of hot sauce in this country. Check any grocery store. They all have whimsical names usually expressing their heat in terms of nuclear explosions or multiple kegs of dynamite. Not Clancy’s Fancy. It relies on flavor, not similes.
Colleen Clancy made her first batch for friends back in the 1970s. The recipe hasn’t changed since. It's still made in small batches by hand, in Ann Arbor, where Colleen combines cider vinegar, fresh garlic, Michigan honey and an array of spices. Its texture is thicker than most hot sauces, bordering on spreadable.
Drizzle Clancy's on potatoes, soups, meats, eggs . . . you get the idea. Hot sauce people don't need recipes or excuses. They tend to drizzle first, evaluate later. This sauce rewards that kind of ambition.
You might want to send a bottle to an ex-Ann Arborite you know. If, like me, they used to be a regular at the Del Rio bar (may it rest in peace), you might want to include a box of tissues. The nostalgia can be heartbreaking.