The first rub was a disaster. Too much salt. The garlic burned in the grinder, turning bitter. He threw it in the trash and started over.
That was the beginning.
The crisis came on a Thursday. His spice supplier sent the wrong bird’s-eye chiles—milder, fruitier, with half the punch. Leo adjusted, upping the paprika and adding a dash of cayenne, but the regulars noticed. “It’s different,” they said. “Still good, but different.” Sales dipped by twenty percent. peri peri dry rub recipe
Fast-forward two years. Leo’s restaurant, Piri Piri , was the darling of the emerging food scene in Chicago. His signature dish—peri-peri chicken, dry-rubbed, slow-grilled, served with a side of charred lemon—had lines around the block. The rub was his secret, measured in grams and kept in a locked tin under the pass. The first rub was a disaster