15 Hot Honey Brands, Ranked Worst To Best

There's a reason this condiment phenomenon has spread like wildfire (no pun intended) since hot honey landed on a Brooklyn pizza in 2010: I know I'm not alone in being physically incapable of choosing any other menu item if there's another one with hot honey on it. Hot honey is especially good on salty, fatty foods like grilled cheese and chicken and waffles, or crispy veg like brussels sprouts or broccoli, and contributes to that addictive sweet-salty combination, but adds yet another sensation — heat — to our variety-craving tongues. It helps fatty foods feel less heavy, adds a hint of sweetness more complex than sugar or corn syrup, and looks beautiful on a plate. Not to mention, it could help clear your sinuses mixed into a cup of tea (speaking from personal experience here). 

To save you the time and expense of picking a favorite, I tasted 15 popular hot honeys here and ranked them worst to best. A longer explanation of my methodology is included further down, but I chose a mix of hot honeys that were highly ranked online, were best-sellers, or were easily purchased at national chain stores. There were a range of prices and heat levels. I ranked them on their flavor above all, but also considered the balance of sweetness and heat, as well as the look and feel.

Some recommendations are based on first-hand impressions of promotional materials and products provided by the manufacturer/distributor/etc.

Sorry, Kroger, this is one of the items you should avoid buying from the brand. While this grocery store hot honey's price point makes it highly accessible compared to other versions, the flavor really disappointed. Kroger Hot Honey Infused With Chiles tasted like someone shook long-expired cayenne powder into bland honey, resulting in an almost bitter, stale taste. I also wondered which kind of chiles Kroger used — the ingredients list simply reads "dried chili peppers" and an also unspecified "vinegar." In all fairness, this was not uncommon for many of the hot honeys I tried. 

The heat level was medium to mild, delivering a one-note slap to the tongue, and the honey was thin, pale, and short on flavor. The packaging was somewhat unappealing, too. I was reluctant to even taste this one more than once to confirm my less-than-stellar first impression. One upside: Some foods might mask the flat, unpleasant taste of this honey. But for a few more dollars, you can enjoy a hot honey that doesn't have to be covered up. 

Sue Bee might be queen mother of the honey bunch -– the Iowa-based company has been around and bottling up honey for more than a century. It's also a beekeeper owned co-op — sweet! Sadly, Sue's foray into hot honey leaves a bit to be desired. 

While Sue Bee's hot honey delivered ever so slightly more sweetness, a little more kick, and slightly less unpleasant aftertaste than Kroger's version, I could take it or leave it. Like Kroger's label, the one on Sue Bee's simply reads, "dried chili peppers." Again, I wondered, what kind of chiles? And once more, what kind of vinegar?  At a little over a dollar more than Kroger's brand, the two weren't very different. Sue Bee's packaging is old-timey and cute, but the honey's consistency was still somewhat soupy. I'm not sure about you, but I'm not a fan of honey dripping everywhere but the food I put it on.

Though the label of this hot honey ("100% REAL," "Go Texan," "Non-GMO") suggested a vaguely artisanal-sounding regional product, this hot honey manages to hit you over the head with a combination of mid-level heat and a bewilderingly metallic flavor. A hint of smoke here adds dimension, but the ingredients reveal hickory smoke "natural flavor" — not smoke from, for example, real roasted hot chile peppers. Chipotle and habanero peppers are the heat elements in this hot honey, but the chipotle gets somewhat lost in the mix. 

The consistency and color, along with the folksy packaging, brought this hot honey just above Kroger and Sue Bee, but at a much higher price point, you'd do better to spend your money elsewhere. I just couldn't get past the copper-y clang that left my taste buds cowering in a corner. Sorry Texas: Bigger doesn't always mean better.

The father-son founded hot sauce company, Elijah's Xtreme, has an endearing backstory: 6-year-old Elijah asked his dad how he could become the youngest person to eat the hottest pepper, and began promptly with a banana pepper on the spot, in their garden. Elijah's bee-adorned hot honey stands apart for the choice of chile: the Carolina Reaper. Known as one of the hottest peppers ever, Carolina Reaper was developed by an American using a hybrid of habanero and naga, or ghost peppers. 

With that in mind, you'd expect this one to knock your socks off. But even with a "medium" label (and of course, it's all relative depending on your heat tolerance), Elijah's is not at all "Xtreme" on the Scoville scale. At least, it wasn't to my taste buds, which love a chili crisp or Cholula, but aren't exactly hardened by years of extreme heat-seeking. The moderate heat actually could have worked in Elijah's favor –- but another kind of sharpness came through — vinegar, maybe? — lending it an off-tasting tang that left me reaching for the next contender. You might be best off choosing from one of the company's other hot offerings.

Of the national grocery store brands hopping on the hot honey bandwagon, Sprouts delivers what's probably the best of the bunch, even if a little more pricey than Kroger. Sprouts' scotch bonnet and habanero-infused acacia honey is straightforward, with a mild but pleasant flavor, leaving no bitter aftertaste, like some of the other grocery chain brands. Sprouts hot honey has a light color and a little more body than some of the less expensive brands, and delivers an overall smooth taste with some heat, but not too much.

Sprouts is also the only brand to tout its use of acacia honey, a "monofloral" honey made from the blossoms of the American acacia tree. Monofloral honeys, which come from the nectar of primarily one specific plant species, are not as easy to come by as others. This hot honey was notably clear and mild in flavor, and because it's higher in glucose (read: sweeter), it's also less likely to crystallize. This honey could add a hint of sweet heat without overpowering what you pair it with, but might be overshadowed itself in a boldly flavored dish. Try milder foods with this one, like plain pizza, grilled cheese, or sopapillas.

Of all the honeys I ranked under it, Hilbert's was the first to deliver the recognizable taste of... well, honey. Any flavor on the food spectrum might have a hard time competing with smoky heat, and honey by itself can have a very subtle taste. Many hot honeys I tried tasted more like hot, sweet sugar syrup than flowery nectar with a sizzle. But Hilbert's hot honey, a dark amber, had a slightly floral, almost grassy note. Despite being labelled "medium" though, it was decidedly mild, and the heat all but disappeared after one taste. I couldn't help but think the heat had to be dialed back quite a bit to allow the natural honey flavor through.

The packaging sports red chiles and a red flame front and center, which could mislead some heat-chasers, and no nutritional information label might put off others. But overall, Hilbert's delivers a sweet, simple kick to go with a variety of foods. The brand suggests adding it to fish, pizza, barbecue, or even cocktails.

Another mildly flavored option, Local Hive's raw and unfiltered hot honey is made from 100% U.S. honey, and uses jalapeño to deliver a moderate punch of heat. At three out of five on a scale of tiny chile peppers, Local Hive's "medium" is an accurate approximation of the burn level. The heat is enough to stand up to other assertive foods, and leaves a tingle in the mouth even after the sweetness melts away. A hint of brightness isn't enough to remind you of vinegar, but there's not much by way of flowers here, either. 

Compared to the other honeys, this one almost tastes like a sticky bun or another pastry –- but in a good way. Local Hive also gets bonus points for its beautiful package design and a twistable dispenser with a flat nozzle that drops honey down in ribbons onto pizza, ice cream, or fruit. The company makes individual honeys from the pollinators and flowers of each of more than a dozen U.S. regions and states. The brand also has three hot honey offerings: the golden liquid comes in original, chipotle, and sriracha flavors.

Up there with the hottest of the bunch, Zab's packs a true burn with its signature datil pepper, a yellowish hot pepper grown mostly in St. Augustine, Florida, where Zab's sources its peppers. The honey is a pleasantly dark amber, and the burn is sweet and slow, lingering in the throat. There's a savoriness to Zab's along with the sweet that could enhance a range of tasty treats. My one hangup was that Zab's might clash with a milder food with its higher burn-level and almost vegetal taste, which it was enough to distract from the sweetness. 

You might want to try this one with a bolder flavored food: barbecue, marinade, a meaty pizza, or roasted vegetables. Zab's is made with wildflower honey in Los Angeles and peppers from down South, but much of the honey's actual flavor is drowned in the heat. This company had my favorite packaging of the bunch, however: blue with distinctive lettering and a cheery illustration of a pup breathing fire.

Red Clay's pure wildflower hot honey puts its Southern roots front and center, combining U.S.-sourced honey with habanero and a dash of apple cider vinegar. The South Carolina-based company's hot honey has a delicate blend of floral notes: you can almost picture a field of flowers and bees gently buzzing around them. These are balanced by a bit of heat — and I really mean a bit. Red Clay hot honey is decidedly mild, with a bright tartness that would work nicely with salty or creamy foods — try it on a breakfast sandwich. While the taste is much lighter than other hot honeys on offer, the honey itself is a deep golden brown, with a nice consistency. A little tingle lingers on the tongue, but not enough to distract from the main event. As the company makes clear on its website, one of Red Clay's goals is to enhance a meal, not steal the spotlight. Still, this honey would be delicious on its own, eaten straight off a spoon.

Texas-based Nature Nate's is made with honey, habanero chile peppers, and white vinegar. On the surface, there's not a lot to distinguish this brand from other hot honeys with the same ingredients, but its tangy yet smooth flavor worked. The "hot" pepper here is some of the mildest –barely detectable — and the honey is intensely sweet and fruitier than many of the others. This hot honey tasted simple but that simplicity can be deceptive: It was notably absent of weird aftertastes, too much burn, or too much smoke. I could almost see myself scooping it into a cup of morning tea.

With an almost tart edge combined with a definitive strong honey flavor, it could be slathered on pancakes and biscuita, and is mild enough to complement cheeses on a charcuterie board. This one may not go well with pizza or fried foods — it's a little too subdued and fruity. Nate's is a darker amber, with a thinner consistency, and the bottle is a pleasant shape with a honeycomb pattern. Nature Nate's is a good hot honey for chile-curious hot honey beginners. Some just don't like it (that) hot.

While this Canadian company's hot honey offering put me off a little at first with clunky packaging and a somewhat unappealing pink-beige color, the honey itself was impressive. The team at Drizzle makes honey, not hot sauce, and it shows. The raw honey is grainy, giving it a surprisingly satisfying texture and thicker consistency. It's also the only honey I tried with visible flecks of real pepper in it –- organic chiles, according to the label. You can taste the perfume of the flowers, and a subtle heat follows with a real chile pepper flavor. This hot honey is lovely.

The one thing that held it back a bit: Drizzle doesn't heat or filter its raw honey, and like the layer of oil on all-natural peanut butter you have to strain to mix in, the chile pepper flakes had all floated to the top of the squeeze bottle. Because of the thickness of the honey, they were almost impossible to shake into uniformity. However, the back of the bottle says it's okay to heat the honey gently, which might make mixing — and actually drizzling Drizzle –- easier.

This condiment comes from former Home Shopping Network regular Alexandra Baker's company, In The Kitchen With Alexandra, and it packs a major burst of flavor. It combines honey with Baker's saucy take on the Haitian staple condiment pikliz for a sweet-sour-savory party on the tongue. Pronounced "pick-leez," the original condiment resembles a fermented, hot cole slaw — hot honey might have seemed like a natural addition. There's cabbage, carrots, shallots, and lime juice in the bottle, along with five different kinds of hot pepper. Baker confirmed that her Hot Honey Sauce is simply a repackaged and identical version of the company's Pikliz Hot Honey, which comes in a jar. Alexandra's Pikliz, was, indeed, more of a sauce than a straightforward chile-infused honey, and pours like one out of a hot sauce-shaped bottle. And it's a bit addictive. 

Pikliz had a pretty light gold with flecks of hot pepper, and its taste was distinctly sweet and sour, with a rich, real pepper flavor and added depth from the other flavorful additions. I didn't rank this higher simply because it might, indeed, steal the show from an entree with its unique and assertive taste. But I could see this as the star on any plate with chicken, grilled meat, fish, or maybe even sweet breakfast items — the label mentions pancakes and waffles. I'm willing to try if Alexandra is.

Savannah Bee Company's Hot Honey, based in Georgia, combines wildflower honey with scotch bonnet and habanero for a smooth, intense, sizzle. This honey was also up there with the hotter honeys, but almost felt less harsh than some of its peers: like a cranked-up tingle rather than a back of the throat burn. Savannah Bee was a light golden orange color and a very pourable consistency, though drizzling might be more difficult from the glass bottle I opened than from the squeeze bottle. 

The company seems to have sourced the wildflower honey itself from Romania and Hungary. Scotch bonnet pepper powder and oleoresin of habanero pepper bring the heat. Oleoresin of a plant combines its essential oil and resin to make a highly concentrated extract, but unlike hot honeys using chile derivatives that imparted a powdery, stale taste, Savannah Bee's was satisfying. The honey itself was more caramel-y to my tongue than floral, a nice compliment to any number of foods or drink. This was one of my favorites for its smooth, well-rounded flavor and heat.

There's a reason Mike's hot honey has stood the test of time since first bringing the concept of hot honey to hungry Americans in 2010 — Mike's is the original trend-setters (after, of course, much older traditions in Italy and Brazil that infused honey with hot peppers for centuries), and its hot honey delivers. Not too hot, not too tart, with a kick of heat that's mild to medium, Mike's is an extremely versatile condiment that could pair well with almost anything. 

There's no lingering burn in the mouth, and compared to the others, a distinctly caramel-y richness — it would pair well with ice cream or mixed into a cocktail. The honey is deep amber and the consistency is somewhere in the middle. The honey isn't sourced locally or even just in the U.S. — the label reveals it's from five different countries, and no word on the kinds of chiles or vinegar. But whatever the secret, it's working. Mike's manages to balance every element of a hot honey skillfully without overpowering. And at a moderate price point, you're getting a great value.

Our champion is a hot honey that stood apart: It was the darkest of the bunch, a burnt orange-brown, and nearly opaque with the "cayenne pepper mash" within. Melinda's is sweet and thick, with a deep, complex caramel flavor and a hit of smoky heat. It's fairly mild, but if you want to use as much of this honey on one piece of pizza as I do, trust me: It's for the best. Compared with other brands, Melinda's tastes like more than the sum of its parts, but it's still just a blend of three main ingredients: Columbian honey, chile "mash," and apple cider vinegar, which gives it just enough tang. The difference may be, as the company claims, fresher ingredients. 

I would pour this onto fried chicken, mozzarella sticks, or straight onto my tongue. If you're looking for more heat than honey, this may not be your pick, but its balanced blend of bold flavors won me over.

To select the 15 hot honey brands, I tried to strike a balance between the most widely available nationally, the most popular, and the highest rated according to online customer reviews. My criteria for ranking the honeys included, above all, flavor. Was it delicious by itself? And was it bold enough to stand out on a food? Was the hot pepper balanced by other flavors? Did it taste like it came from a grassy field or a dusty factory? Would it pair with a variety of foods? Second, I considered spice level. Though everyone prefers a different temperature, I looked for honeys where heat enhanced the taste without being the only sensation, adding nothing, or being undetectable. 

I took value into account: If two honeys were tied in flavor, a more affordable honey might get a boost. The container's ease of use, the package design, and the consistency and look of the honey itself were also factors: We eat with our eyes and our sense of touch, too. While they were lower on my list of criteria, a beautiful design and an appealing texture are important to the overall experience of a food.