nomad
Coming soon

A well-traveled
table.

Original sauces built from fresh aromatics and honest culinary research — each one traced back to a real place, a real dish, and a real reason it tastes the way it does. Made in small batches between Westport, Connecticut and Tarrytown, New York. Kept cold. Eaten fresh.

Why we started

Authentic isn't the
opposite of easy.

It just usually gets sold that way.

There was never a shortage of interest in these flavors. People who have never been to Bangkok already know they like Pad Thai. The gap was never curiosity — it was format. The things that moved us most were locked inside a whole dish: a specific restaurant, a technique that eats an afternoon, a shopping list you can't finish in one store.

So we worked backward. We found the part of the dish doing the most work — almost always the sauce — read up on where it actually came from, and put that in a jar. Not a softened version for people who might be nervous. The same aromatics, treated the way the original treats them, in a format that fits into whatever you were already going to cook on a Tuesday.

That's the whole idea. Make the good thing adoptable without making it smaller.

The first four

Every flavor names
its place.

Each sauce carries an origin tag — a real place tied to the flavor. It only works if the connection is real, so here's the reasoning behind each one.

A stop in Seoul

Gochujang aioli

Gochujang has been fermenting in Korean kitchens since long before chile peppers reached the peninsula in the 1500s. In Sunchang County, families still age the paste for years in earthenware jars set out on backyard platforms to catch the sun. We paired that patient heat with a French-style aioli — two very different kitchens landing on the same idea: garlic, fat, and time.

Gochujang, egg, garlic, rice vinegar, toasted sesame oil

Gluten-freeSmall batchCarries heat

A stop in Singapore

Hainan chicken sauce

It traces back to Wenchang chicken, a specialty of Hainan Island for some 400 years. Hainanese emigrants carried the tradition south in the early 20th century and rebuilt it from what they had — and the sauce, bright with ginger, scallion, and garlic, became the dish's defining detail. We tag it Singapore because that's the city where the sauce, as most people know it, found its final form.

Ginger, scallion, garlic, sesame oil, lime

Gluten-freeSmall batch

A stop in Bangkok

Pad Thai aioli

Pad Thai has an unusually specific birthday: the 1940s, under a Thai government campaign urging citizens to eat noodles instead of rice after flooding damaged the paddies. Recipes were distributed and free noodle carts handed to street vendors. It stuck — it's Thai-Chinese at its core, and tamarind, fish sauce, and palm sugar are what make it distinctly Thai.

Tamarind, peanut, lime, fish sauce, chili

Gluten-freeSmall batch

A stop in Saigon

Cilantro lime

In Vietnam, fresh herbs aren't a garnish — a whole plate of them arrives with almost every meal and the diner finishes the dish themselves. Southern Vietnam takes the herb plate furthest: bigger, more varied, more generous around Saigon than the versions further north. We borrowed that instinct — let the herb and the citrus do the finishing work, instead of burying them under a sauce that's already decided everything for you.

Cilantro, lime, garlic, jalapeño, olive oil

Gluten-freeSmall batch

Fresh aromatics

Keep it cold.
Eat it soon.

Everything we make starts with aromatics that were whole that morning — garlic, ginger, scallion, cilantro, lime, jalapeño. Cut, not concentrated. Not powdered, not reconstituted, not standing in for the real thing.

That's a choice, and it comes with a consequence we'd rather say out loud than bury in the fine print. A sauce that can sit on a shelf for a year has been heated hard enough and acidified far enough that the fresh things inside it stop tasting fresh. That isn't a flaw in shelf-stable sauce — it's the trade it makes on purpose. It gives up the top notes to buy the year.

We're not willing to make that trade. So our sauces live in the refrigerator and get eaten within days of the batch they came from. There's no version of this that skips that step. If there were a way to keep this flavor and still park it on a shelf, we'd have found it — we went looking, and it isn't there.

Short shelf life isn't the cost of doing it this way. It's the proof.

If a sauce can survive a year in a warm aisle, something in it already gave up.

Where we're starting

From the Sound
to the Hudson.

We're starting in the stretch between Westport, Connecticut and Tarrytown, New York — thirty-four miles by car, one state line, and about an hour if the Merritt is behaving.

That's not a marketing radius. It's honestly just how far a jar of this can travel and still show up cold, and still be worth what we'd have to charge. Sauce built on fresh aromatics can't be shipped across the country, so we're not going to pretend it can. Fairfield County, Westchester County, and the towns strung between them — that's the first route. We'd rather do a short one well.

Westport, CT Tarrytown, NY

Norwalk · Darien · Stamford · Greenwich · Port Chester · Rye · Harrison · White Plains · Elmsford · Irvington · Sleepy Hollow

Distance
34 miles
Counties
Fairfield & Westchester
Water to water
Long Island Sound to the Hudson
Storage
Refrigerated, eaten within days

Coming soon

We'll tell you when
the first batch is ready.

Leave an email and we'll let you know when jars are available, where the table is set up, and which stop we're adding next.