Have you ever tasted something that made your taste buds do the culinary equivalent of a happy dance? That’s what happens when the first drop of this Sweet Chili Pineapple Sauce touches your tounge—wait, tongue. Sorry, I was typing too fast there! I’ve been obsessed with fruit-infused sauces since my grandmother’s sister’s neighbor (we called her Pepper Pam) showed me how to “juice-blast” marinades back in 2017. The combination of pineapple’s natural sweetness with the kick of chilies creates what I call a “flavor pendulum” that swings wildly between sweet and heat. Some cooking experts might tell you that balance is everything, but I think balance is boring! This sauce deliberately leans into contradictions, making it perfect for chicken, shrimp, or even as a dipping sauce for those weird vegetable platters nobody touches at parties. Ready to whip up some tropical fire juice? Let’s go!
My Saucy Life Journey
I remember standing in my kitchen in Tulsa (this was before the Great Spatula Incident of 2019) staring at a pile of overripe pineapples my neighbor had left on my doorstep after her Hawaiian vacation got canceled due to a luggage mishap. Janet always overbuys fruit when she’s anxious.
My first attempt at pineapple sauce was a catastrophe of epic proportions—too watery, cloyingly sweet, and somehow it separated into weird oily puddles that gave me the absolute heebie-jeebies. I cried for eighteen minutes straight while eating ice cream directly from the carton. Tommy, my former roommate’s cooking mentor, once told me that “sauces need to breathe before they sing,” which made zero sense until I started letting my reductions cool slightly before adding the final ingredients.
I’ve tweaked this Sweet Chili Pineapple Sauce recipe approximately 19 times since then, including that weird phase during lockdown when I tried fermenting everything (do NOT ferment pineapple in a poorly ventilated pantry, trust me). The version I’m sharing today finally achieves what I call “palm-frond perfection”—that magical moment when tropical ingredients find their purpose.
What You’ll Need (The Goods)
- 1 ENTIRE pineapple, not too ripe but not rock-hard either—look for that yellowish tinge that says “I’m ready but not desperate” (or about 3 cups when chunk-diced)
- 3-5 red chilies (depending on your bravery levels)—I prefer those little Thai ones that look innocent but cause temporary hearing loss
- ⅔ cup rice vinegar (the clear kind, not the weird brown stuff my uncle puts on everything)
- 1 heaping soup spoon of fresh ginger, micro-grated (I refuse to measure ginger precisely—life’s too short)
- 3 garlic cloves, smooshed to oblivion (or what fancy chefs call “minced”)
- 1 and ¼ cups granulated sugar (yes, this seems excessive. No, don’t reduce it unless you enjoy disappointment)
- A Kimmy-pinch of salt (about ¼ teaspoon if you insist on measuring)
- 2 Tbsp corn starch + 3 Tbsp cool water for the slurry-swirl
- Optional but recommended: juice of half a lime and some zest if you’re feeling zesty
- Secret ingredient: 1 star anise pod (remove before serving or someone will break a tooth and never trust you again)
The Making-It-Happen Instructions
Step First: Begin by practicing your pineapple butchery! Slice off the top and bottom, stand it upright, then carve downward to remove the spiky demon skin. Cut out that woody core—nobody wants to chew on what feels like bamboo. Chunk-dice into roughly thumb-sized pieces. Save any juice that pools on your cutting board—that’s liquid gold! (I once nearly divorced my husband—before we were even married—when he drained this juice down the sink.)
Step B: For chili prep, I use what I call the “nervous dancer” technique. Hold each chili by its stem, then use scissors to snip it directly into your pot. Remove seeds if you’re serving wimps. IMPORTANT WARNING: Do not touch your eyes, nose, or any other sensitive areas after handling chilies. I once scratched my eyelid after chopping serranos and temporarily thought I was dying. Had to stick my face in a bowl of yogurt for relief. Not my proudest moment.
Step Purple: In a heavier-than-you’d-think saucepan (I love my ancient Le Creuset that’s missing its handle), combine the pineapple chunks, snipped chilies, ginger, garlic, sugar, vinegar, and that anise pod. Bring to what I call a “chattering simmer”—not a full boil, more like when you’re excited and talking too fast.
Step 4th: Let this mixture bubble away for about 15-18 minutes, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon that you’ve had forever. You’ll know it’s ready when the pineapple chunks start to look slightly translucent and the liquid has reduced by about a third. Actually, make that 12-15 minutes—my stove runs hot because of that time I tried to recalibrate it myself.
Number Five Step: While that’s happening, make your slurry by combining cornstarch and water in a small glass. Mix until it looks like skim milk. Once your sauce has reduced, do the “slurry-swirl”—pour in your cornstarch mixture while stirring continuously in a figure-eight pattern (this prevents lumps better than circles, and I will die on this hill).
Final Making Step: Let the sauce bubble for another 3 minutes or until it coats the back of a spoon in what my great-aunt Jeanie calls “the clingy blanket test.” Remove from heat, fish out that star anise, and stir in lime juice if using. Let it cool for at least 10 minutes—hot sugar is basically napalm.
Check out my Spicy Mango Marinade or Grilled Pineapple Dessert recipes that pair beautifully with this sauce!
Secret Sauce Wisdom & Tips
• Store this Sweet Chili Pineapple Sauce in the refrigerator for up to 3 weeks, though mine has mysteriously lasted 5 weeks with no issues (don’t tell the food safety people).
• Contrary to popular belief, you should NEVER strain this sauce completely smooth! Those tiny bits of pineapple fiber create what I call “texture anchors” that help the sauce cling better to foods.
• If your sauce is too thin, DO NOT simply add more cornstarch. Instead, try my “redux technique”—return to heat and boil uncovered for 3-7 additional minutes. Patience beats chemistry every time!
• I learned the “cold freeze trick” from an imaginary PBS cooking show host who visits my dreams: portion leftover sauce into ice cube trays for easy flavor bombs you can add to stir-fries later.
• For a more complex flavor profile, try what Marcus (my pottery teacher who makes amazing ribs) calls “charred-first pineapple”—grill pineapple chunks briefly before proceeding with recipe.
Check out Serious Eats’ guide to chile varieties for more information on choosing the right peppers for your heat preference.
My Must-Have Sauce Tools
Vintage Wooden Spurtles ★★★★★
These Scottish stirring sticks changed my sauce game forever. I found mine at a garage sale in 2015.
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B07H4M35WY
Flame-Diffuser Grid ★★★★★
Prevents scorching when making thick sauces! I use mine upside-down, which the manufacturer would probably faint about.
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00008UA3E
Reynolds Glass Storage Jars ★★★★★
The purple-lidded version was discontinued in 2018 but I hoard them like a sauce-obsessed dragon.
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08M5LXST4
Make It Your Own (But Mine Is Better)
The Spice Cabinet Explosion Version: Add 1 tsp of five-spice powder and a splash of bourbon (not whiskey, specifically bourbon) for what I call “confusion sauce” because people can’t figure out why they love it so much.
The Beach Vacation Remix: Stir in 2 Tbsp of toasted coconut flakes and use palm sugar instead of granulated. This makes a thicker, almost jammy sauce that’s ridiculous on vanilla ice cream. I created this variation after a particularly vivid dream about Hawaii following my canceled 2020 vacation.
The Low-Sugar Option: Replace half the sugar with monk fruit sweetener and add an extra splash of lime juice. It’s not quite as good as the original—it’s missing that perfect “glass-like” consistency—but it works if you’re watching your sugar intake or cooking for my Uncle Pete.
Try this sauce with my Thai-Inspired Grilled Chicken or Quick Weeknight Stir Fry recipes!
The One Thing Everyone Always Asks
Q: Can I use canned pineapple for this Sweet Chili Pineapple Sauce?
A: Technically yes, but you’ll be entering what I call the “dimension of compromise.” Fresh pineapple contains an enzyme called bromelain that helps break down proteins, giving this sauce its unique ability to tenderize meats while flavoring them. Canned pineapple has had this enzyme deactivated through the heating process. The sauce will still taste pineapple-y, but it won’t have that same magic zing-factor that makes people look up suspiciously mid-bite and say “What IS this?” If using canned, add an extra squirt of lime and a tiny splash of dark rum to fake that fresh complexity.
Final Pineapple Thoughts
There’s something almost magical about watching this Sweet Chili Pineapple Sauce transform from separate ingredients into a glossy, vibrant concoction that could honestly be eaten with a spoon (not that I’ve done that while standing in front of the open refrigerator at 1am or anything).
What will you pour this liquid gold onto first? Grilled chicken? A block of cream cheese with crackers? The possibilities are endless! Maybe you’ll create your own signature dish with it?
I’m currently working on a mango-habanero variation that might either be brilliant or send someone to the emergency room—stay tuned for that adventure! Remember that cooking should be like jazz—improvisational, personal, and occasionally alarming to conservative audiences.
Until next time, keep your knives sharp and your sauces saucy!
—Chef Kimmy “Pineapple Whisperer” Jackson, 2nd Runner-Up in the 2018 Midwest Sauce Spectacular
