Sauces and meat: the story of a tasty pairing

In every part of the world, there is at least one sauce that accompanies meat.
It’s an ancient, almost ritual gesture: to soften, enhance, and transform the main ingredient by enriching it with variations and nuances. Whether it’s a sweet pomegranate glaze in Middle Eastern cuisine or a thick, spiced chutney on the edge of an Indian plate, whether it’s a smoky barbecue sauce served over American ribs or a green sauce paired with Piedmontese boiled meat, that creamy thread accompanying each bite tells a story: in a sauce, there is a territory, a culture, a precise idea of balance, a tradition, and even technology. Not a detail, but an integral part of the dish.
The sector is in a phase of great dynamism.
The global market for sauces and condiments continues to grow at a steady pace and in 2024 reached a value of 259 billion dollars. Ready-to-use sauces, international varieties, premium versions, and artisanal products are growing in particular. Consumers are looking for authentic flavors, but also greater attention to health: gluten-free, low-sugar, preservative-free. Convenience is also in demand, with steady growth in online sales and single-serving formats.
In Italy, consumption reflects some global trends but retains a strong local identity.
The Northwest accounts for nearly a third of national sales, and mayonnaise remains the top preference, followed by ketchup, mustard, and Asian-inspired sauces. Even in our country, demand is rising for lighter, more innovative products or those linked to functional ingredients. Alongside major international brands such as Heinz and Calvé, Italian producers focused on quality and differentiation continue to endure and grow stronger.

Green, hollandaise, chimichurri, chutney: all the sauces of the world

The history of sauces as we know them today has a clear turning point: 18th-century France.
In this period, French cuisine established itself as the reference model in Europe, introducing a new conception of sauces. The “ancient” sauces were in fact lean, with no oil or butter, based on a combination of acidic ingredients (wine, vinegar, verjuice, citrus juice) and spicy ones (spices), held together by breadcrumbs, liver, and eggs; their flavor intensity was inversely proportional to their texture. They were bold, vibrant sauces, but technically primitive. With the rise of French taste, sauces became rich, delicate, and structured: a new gastronomic grammar was born, marking the beginning of a different story – more refined, codified, and destined to influence all Western cuisine.

Starting from these foundations, French gastronomy codified a system in which five sauces became the cornerstone of flavor construction: béchamel, soft and neutral, the ideal base for endless variations; velouté, similar but built on a light meat or fish stock; espagnole, rich and intense, made from brown stock and tomato; hollandaise, a warm emulsion of egg yolks and clarified butter, vibrant and silky; and finally tomato sauce, also codified as a mother sauce, though with an already autonomous identity. From these five, hundreds of other sauces derive: lighter, more aromatic, spicier. With them, a method takes shape, a style, a profession. A sauce is no longer something that is simply “poured on top,” but something constructed, balanced, served.

In Italy too, the sauce holds cultural dignity, although less codified and more tied to regional identity. It’s a culture made up of ragùs and reductions, but also of accompanying sauces, often cold, aromatic, and plant-based. Think of Piedmontese salsa verde, Lombard mostardas, or tuna sauce – all created to accompany boiled meats, white meats, or roasts. Every region has its own variations, its typical ingredients, its techniques. It’s not just about flavor, but about geography, seasonality, and collective memory.

Outside Europe, sauces take on even more diverse forms. There’s Argentine chimichurri, rustic and fragrant, accompanying asado with its herbal and acidic intensity. A raw sauce, yet full of character, telling the story of fire and shared grilling. There are the endless versions of barbecue sauce in the United States, which become almost regional trademarks: sweeter in Kansas City, tangier in Carolina, spicier in Texas. In Korea, ssamjang – a thick, salty paste – accompanies the ritual of barbecue wrapped in leaves, carrying the flavor of fermentation. In Africa and Southeast Asia, peanut sauce brings together earth and spices in a creamy texture, often enriched with coconut milk, chili peppers, tamarind, and garlic.

Indian cuisine plays with contrasts: chutney, in its green, red, sweet, or spiced versions, accompanies all kinds of meat, but also bread, rice, and vegetables. In the Middle East, sauces express the duality between acidity and sweetness: pomegranate molasses, date reductions, yogurt and mint-based sauces. In Asian cuisines, soy and fish sauces, and emulsions with ginger or sesame, become real tools for balancing the elements: salty, sweet, spicy, umami.

Sauces: textures, ingredients, preservation

Behind every sauce lies a technical challenge: packaging it properly means protecting it, preserving it, but also respecting its identity and texture, a crucial element that defines each individual sauce. And what specific care it requires: when it’s fluid, it may drip or oxidize easily; when it’s dense, it may clog dosing systems if they’re not properly calibrated. Emulsified sauces, like tuna sauce or béarnaise, are the most sensitive to thermal changes and time. Their stability depends on the fineness of the dispersion and the strength of the emulsion: any inaccuracy in filling temperature can cause the fat phase to break or ingredients to separate. This means packaging must take place under controlled thermal conditions and with systems capable of minimizing mechanical stress. Then there are sauces with inclusions: mostardas, chutneys, vegetable ragùs. Here the difficulty lies in the even distribution of chunks and in handling variable viscosity. The risk is that solids settle at the bottom of the hopper or clog the dosing system. In such cases, using agitated tanks, pumps with wide passages, and pistons designed for non-homogeneous products is essential. Moreover, many sauces contain delicate ingredients: fresh herbs, spices, fruits, vegetables. Some must be pasteurized, others are cold-preserved. Some use natural preservatives, others require the total absence of additives. In all cases, product consistency is essential: no one wants to find a sauce separated into liquid and solid phases, or a greasy jar on the outside, or worse still a lid that doesn’t ensure an airtight seal. Packaging is not just a technical step: it’s an integral part of perceived quality. A sauce with the right dosage, that keeps well without losing aroma, that maintains its structure even after opening, is a sauce that works. For the producer, it means having a smooth and safe process. For the consumer, it means finding consistency between the label and what they taste. The choice of closure directly affects shelf life and product safety. For pasteurized sauces, the twist-off cap ensures an airtight seal and immediate visual control thanks to the “click” button. When it comes to fast-consumption sauces – like mustard, mayonnaise, or barbecue in single-serve format – flip-top or screw caps prevail, designed to be both durable and functional. The addition of inner seals or aluminum liners improves long-term tightness and prevents contamination, even in squeezable bottles. From a plant engineering perspective, the capping phase requires synergy with dosing: if the sauce is fluid, dripping that would compromise screwing must be avoided; if it’s dense, speed must be adjusted to prevent air bubbles or voids. Finally, there’s the issue of labeling: many sauces are sold in transparent jars or squeezable bottles, which must immediately convey the product’s identity. Visual appeal matters too, especially when competition is fierce and the shelf is crowded.