Some borough presidents are known - if they are known at all - for sucking up to voters. Staten Island Borough President James Molinaro is known for socking it to them. While other borough presidents are working the smoke-filled rooms, Molinaro in usually found in his basement brewing up an excruciatingly spicy, nearly flammable hot-pepper sauce of his own invention. The beep takes hot peppers, dries them on his hot-water heater (nice touch), crushes them and mixes them with oil, black olives and enough garlic to make Staten Island vampire-free for a decade. It's a sauce so overpowering that it can induce tears just from being in the same room as an open container. Yet everyone who visits Molinaro is expected to sample some (he's such a generous guy, that Molinaro). "I warn people, but not everyone listens," said Meagan Devereaux, the beep's special assistant. "It's like an active volcano. It actually hisses. And sometimes, it explodes!" "It does not explode," Molinaro said. "Hisses, maybe, but not explode." The sauce is something of a litmus test in Molinaro's office. Some staffers, like counsel Ed Burke or press officer Pat Witt, move their chairs away from the bubbling "Beep's Brew." Devereaux actually leaves the room. When told that I'd been given a sample of the hot sauce, she asked matter-of-factly, "Did it eat through the container yet?" In the interest of journalistic inquiry, this reporter slathered a prosciutto-and-provalone sandwich with Molinaro's special sauce. I found it remarkable - rich, flavorful and well-rounded. Other than his courageous battle against overdevelopment, this sauce could be Jim Molinaro's lasting legacy to the people of Staten Island. It was exquisitely hot, that's for sure, but it's not as if I died in mid-sen To better ascertain whether Molinaro had created a lethal substance or a legitimate condiment worthy of a fancy gourmet shop, I took a sample to my favorite Midtown restaurant for further testing (in doing so, I broke several laws against transporting toxic substances across county lines). Waldy Malouf, the chef at Beacon on W. 56th Street, stuck his nose into the container and started crying - but they appeared to be tears of joy. "It has a great aroma," he said. "And the olives are a nice tough. It gives him a salty countertaste to all the spice." Malouf slathered "Molinaro Mush" onto a piece of monkfish and a lamb chop, and tossed both into his 700-degree wood-burning oven. While the meat cooked, Malouf whipped up his outstanding bacon-scallion risotto. A mere half-teaspoon of Molinaro's sauce turned the rich, satisfying and creamy dish into a conflagration. In the good way. "It really cuts through and makes a nice heat," Malouf said. He was equally impressed when the other dishes were done. "And you're telling me that the borough president of Staten Island makes this?" As much as he admired the sauce, Malouf questioned whether Molinaro should devote himself full-time to hot sauce once those pesky term limits kick in. "It's a great sauce, but selling products like this is next to impossible," Malouf said. "As far as his retirement goes, I'd advise him to have a plan B." --30-- gersh.kuntzman@verizon.net