Condiment Man

I’ve always been someone for whom condiments are important. I like mustard and relish on my hot dog, ketchup and mayonnaise on my hamburger. I butter my toast, put duck sauce on my egg roll, and half & half in my coffee. I slice a banana on my cereal, put salsa on my nachos, and sprinkle grated Parmesan on my pasta.

When I make reservation at an Indian restaurant I check to make sure it’s one that serves mango chutney. They almost all do, but one time I ate at a restaurant that didn’t and it all but ruined the meal for me. I vowed never to let it happen again.

One year that my sister hosted Thanksgiving dinner for the family, she forgot to buy cranberry sauce. I was so visibly crestfallen that she has ever since made a point of assuring me when she extends a Thanksgiving invitation that there will be cranberry sauce.

As you might imagine, there have been times when my wife Jennifer considered my devotion to condiments somewhat excessive. I think she felt it was a gratuitous affectation.

But then, a few years ago, she heated up a can of black bean soup and discovered that the flavor was terribly bland. “Alright, Mr. Condiment Man,” she said to me, “you’re the expert. What could I add to this soup to make it taste better?”

Without hesitation I said, “Sour cream and chopped onion, or some lemon-pepper seasoning, or a dash of sherry.” As it happened, we had no sour cream or lemon-pepper seasoning, but we had a bottle of Harvey’s Bristol Cream in the cabinet, so she poured some into the soup and tasted it. She was amazed.

Today, whenever a question arises as to which seasoning or condiment will improve the flavor of a given food, Jennifer seeks my counsel. And she wholeheartedly touts what she now considers my culinary “superpower” to our friends.