Ketchup

Or catsup.  You know, the red, slightly spicy stuff made from tomatoes, vinegar, salt and spices.  The stuff Weight Watchers used to ban from their diet plan and the US government decided was a vegetable on the school lunch program.  The stuff some wiseguy tried to improve by making it green or purple. Sheesh.

I'm getting into this confession thing. Ask me, and I might tell you my secrets.  Or I'll lie about them.  How would you know?  But this confession is one I will share honestly. I love ketchup.

You know that I will cause mayhem if you touch my chocolate.  That 85% cacao bar better still be there when I crave it.  Peanut butter is a staple.  Ice cream is surely my best friend, even surpassing gin and tonic.  I am also a nut for ketchup, but not with my chocolate, peanut butter or ice cream.  It wouldn't do justice to any of them.  I haven't tried it yet with gin.


I realized it even as a child.  Linda's sister would reach for peanut butter sandwiches. Lin and I ate ketchup on white bread, sometimes with mustard (plain yellow ballpark).  My occasional bologna sandwich (still a comfort food), also on white bread, had a big squeeze of ketchup on it.  My dear mother-in-law would fix sandwiches for me when we lived there.  She would lovingly lightly butter the Vienna bread, then spread just a little mayo. A slice of bologna or ham, a lettuce leaf--all presented with a slice of tomato with grated cheese, or a pickle, and a linen napkin. To her chagrin, I would make one for myself--bread, bologna, ketchup served on a paper towel.

My sister and I would stop at McDonald's or wherever for French fries and proceed to drown them in the red condiment.  We decided we only ate the fries so we wouldn't get our fingers full of ketchup. What would a restaurant do if you asked for a bowl and spoon, then dumped the complimentary ketchup in it and began to dine?  Call Bellview, I guess.

I don't love ketchup the way I love peanut butter.  It needs a medium, like bread, to be filling. It stains when splattered on my yellow t-shirt.  It feels wrong to dunk anything in it when dining out.  Those little fast-food packets have a way of leaking in one's purse or getting stepped on in one's car (trust me on this--it shoots out of that little tube like Old Faithful).  Still, ketchup is more versatile than you may think.

Mixed with horseradish, it makes good cocktail sauce. With mayo, it makes thousand island dressing (add chopped egg and relish if you want it).  Add it to mushroom soup and mustard and it makes a spicy gravy for Salisbury steak (really--try it; add some Worcestershire, too).  Use it for sloppy Joes. Top your eggs, hamburgers, hot dogs or mac and cheese. And bologna, of course.

I wanted a snack one day and was trying to decide between sour cream and onion or barbecue Pringles when the stock man brought out a new carton for the shelf.  Bless my soul, ketchup flavored Pringles! Heaven in a chip. I don't know why this flavor isn't catching on...I mean, it's ketchup!

Before you barf, I urge you to at least try the ketchup.  I know, I know.  Hubby says it's good on hamburgers and hot dogs, even fries, but draws the line on my putting it in his lunch box.  My sons scoff--they want malt vinegar or ranch.  Some look at me like I must have been deprived of the finer things as a child, to rely on the lowly ketchup for sustenance.  What can I say?  I won't apologize for my habit.

Someday we will chat about mustard and pickle relish.