Hot? No. Getting into a black car in Southern California in the middle of summer is hot. A Starbucks Venti Latte is hot. A steam sauna is hot.
This is a hospital trip short of simultaneously gargling with lye while grilling your lips on a cast-iron Weber barbeque. A full twenty minutes after I had taken less than 1/4" of a pretzel stick coated in this satanic baby batter, my tongue was searing with a rabid and vicious intensity. The cup of hot drip coffee in my hand? Tried to put out the burn with it. Couldn't even FEEL the coffee touch my tongue.
A light smoky flavor? Are you kidding me? I couldn't taste anything for over an hour. If the sauce has any measurable flavor it is instantly destroyed by the brain-melting heat. There is no reason to ever buy this. Ever. What could you possibly do with it? Put a drop in a five-gallon pot of chili? Four pounds of taco meat? Seriously.
I could imagine doctors prescribing this as the herbal equivalent of Plan B. It would kill any disease, parasite, or unwanted fetus it came in contact with.