If a Condiment is eaten alone, is it a Condiment?

Condiment Grrl, her husband, Mr. Mustard, and Baby Balsamic (that's not a bad name for a child, is it? Hmmm....) recently journeyed to the mountains for a idyllic soujourn. Friends of ours own a cabin (an amazing three-story cabin with a sunken tub and floor to ceiling windows that frame Mt. Index) and they invited us up for a night to celebrate a birthday. When we arrived, there was a deer on the edge of the meadow below the house, barely visible in the mist. Our intrepid hostess greeted us at the path and told us to be a bit quiet as there was a new-born deer in the grass and the deer we could see was the Mother Deer, who would protect her young with the ferocity with which I would protect Baby Balsamic. Or, for that matter, Balsamic vinegar.

Now, dear reader, don't fret that we then slaughtered the deer for a feast of roast venison rubbed with a pepper cherry marinade. We watched the deer in awe and joy; how magnificent is the natural world! Then we went inside and fell upon the venison sausage that we brought as an offering to the birthday boy. The venison sausage was a gift from a friend originally from Wisconsin whose family annually hunts, creates their own sausage and sends him culinary gifts to remember his boyhood. Having watched me fall upon this delicious venison sausage with glee and gusto many times, this friend will pass extra sausage onto us. And, this is a big confession, could eat this sausage without dipping it into anything, that's how much I like it. But sausage is sort of food combined with the condiments, ground up and squeezed into an intestinal casing.

Inside, our hostess also presented us with a bit of appetizer nosh: creamy goat cheese spread onto a slice of pumpernickel bread topped with Quince paste. The combination was tangy and filling, the bitter sweetness of the Quince balancing the ubiquitious gaminess of the goat cheese. And now we come to the title of the blog post: I didn't enjoy the Quince paste on its own. I only enjoyed it with the bread and cheese. Side fun fact: the word "marmalade" used to mean Quince jam, but it expanded its meaning. Not unlike the word "phat."

Now, many of you "normal" people out there probably feel that eating mustard on its own is weird. And I say to you, "Well. Whatever." But since the official definition of a condiment is a "a substance, such as a relish, vinegar, or spice, used to flavor or complement food," then Quince Paste is a condiment in the truest sense of the world. Unless I was very, very hungry, I wouldn't eat a spoonful of Quince paste. It's a bit too bitter and I've never been a huge fan of jams or jellys unless they had chipotle, garlic or mint in them. I have been known to take spoonfuls of mustard. So, when I do that, is the mustard a condiment? Or a food?

I pondered this question as I dipped pieces of the venison sausage into a mild roasted garlic mustard and watched the Mother Deer come back for her child. You know, I am just now realizing that the Quince paste would have been quite good spread on the sausage. A condiment on a condiment on a condiment. It's like a edible Escher painting.

Mustard is PHAT,

Condiment Grrl

Condiment Alert!

My husband just received in the mail two separate shipments of Penzey’s Spices Creamy Peppercorn spice mix as a gift from a long-distance friend. There were two shipments because the first shipment took a long time to get to us and we assumed it was lost. They sent another, which we received. Then we got the first one.

First off, a review of this condiment: Creamy Peppercorn mix can be used directly on roasts or can be, through a tricky process not unlike creating medieval Icelandic mustard involving stirring the mixture in some water, letting it sit, then mixing it with mayonnaise. Now, as any rational and intelligent person knows, it’s very difficult to go wrong with the creamy manna known as mayonnaise.

I did have one moment of doubt several years back, when my good friend Anna usurped the dressing I had prepared to put mayonnaise on her salad. She gave me a guilty look and said, “This is how we eat salad in my family.” But she was newly pregnant with her son, Otis, so it could be forgiven.

Anyway, my husband prepared this creamy peppercorn mayonnaise to go with some cold chicken one night. I swirled my finger into the bowl, gleeful at my introduction to a new favorite. I put my finger in my mouth and I tasted something akin to what would be served at a salad bar at Applebees: too salty, not enough pepper flavor, just not “Condiment Grrl worthy.” For the record, my husband liked it just fine and looked at me in disgust when I promptly pulled my waiting jar of Robert Rothschild Lemon Dill & Capers Sauce from the fridge (http://www.gourmetfoodrecipes.com/lemon-dill-capers-sauce.html).

The story gets worse when we receive a SECOND shipment of the spice from Penzeys – apparently the first shipment finally got to us. When I pulled the bag out of the box, I noticed the spices in the bag jumping around. At first I thought to myself, “Is there some kind of trick of physics and spices and being brought into light that would cause this sort of movement?” Well, the answer to that is a big, fat “NO.” It was bugs. There were bugs in the spice bag. In a better America, that would be punishable by public flogging and being forced to eat all your food without ANY spice or condiment for three months. In this case, we’ll just complain and see what happens.

Now, I don’t mean to totally dismiss Penzeys yet. I’ve trolled their website and they have some intriguing products. So, I’m going to purchase some Shallot Salt and see how good that is, if it’s any good, they’ll go on my “Recommended Purveyors of Condiments” list. Otherwise, the Condiment Goddess Dillmustardalia, will somehow smite the company.

Bugs, people

Condiment Grrl

Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Mustard

Well, kiddies, I tried finding mustard in the news, but only came up with far too many recipes involving rubbing mustard on various sides of meat. This is fine, but a little uncreative -- mustard can be dipped into, cooked with, smeared upon, rubbed throughout and just eaten on its own. That's right, just eaten on its own. I read in the source of all vaguely alterna-hippie health information, DrWeil.com, that mustard can relieve nausea and stomach upset.

I did come up with one reference to mustard gas, a dreadful chemical-bio agent that smells like mustard and causes skin to break out in blisters. But the gas itself has "absolutely no relation whatsoever to culinary mustard." And if Wikipedia says it, it must be true because it's on the Interweb.

So, the word mustard has been used for good and for evil. Mustard itself increases circulation (mustard wrap, anyone?), reduces inflammation and keeps you from getting batty and senile in your old age. That last part is because mustard is often prepared with turmeric, which is a compound in curry and apparently no one in India ever gets Alzheimers. So, if you eat enough mustard, you don't have to do Sudoko or play bridge or any of those other crazy things people do to keep their minds sharp.

But, here's an interesting fun fact, back in Medeival England, the average household consumed 84 pounds of mustard seed a year. That's right -- 84 pounds. And they sure weren't a lot healthier considering the average life span was 29 years or something. On a good day.

I'll leave you to continue to ponder this paradox with this Medeival Icelandic recipe for mustard that I found on a Medeival Mustard site (this Interweb really does have everything.)

From an old Icelandic Medical Miscellany ( supposed to be 15th century from a lost manuscript of the 13th century) :

1. One shall take mustard (seed) and add a fourth part of honey and grind all together with good vinegar. This is good for forty days.
2. One shall take mustard (seed) and a third of honey and a tenth part of anise and two such of cinnamon. Grind this all with strong vinegar and put it in a cask. This is good for three months.

One shall somehow procure a jar of Norman Bishop Garlic Dill mustard and eat it with french bread. This is good for 2 hours.

Condiment Grrl

Marvelous Condiments at a Delightful Wedding

I have been remiss in my duties the last couple days, but I was trying to figure out some of my template issues so all *my* profile information doesn't appear at the bottom. I'm still working on it.

In the meantime, I left my family behind and flew down to California for a wedding. This was a family wedding in the truest, extended meaning of the word. I grew up on a wonderful block in Oakland named Echo. The families were/are all close. We have wild Christmas celebrations every year involving high-stakes charades and an embarrassment of desserts.

One of the younger sons of the block got married today. He and his now-wife have known each other for 20 years and have a beautiful 2 year old son. It was a beautiful outdoor ceremony. A brass band played us up a mountain to the reception. Toasts were made, wine was drunk and crab and bean cakes were served with remoulade. Oh yeah, baby, REMOULADE. I knew then that John had made a good choice in a future wife.

Remoulade doesn't sound like a sauce or a condiment really. It sounds like a bid to start an orgy or something. It's a sexy, sultry word and I expect a plump-armed courtesan to enter her crowded salon and shout "Remoulade" to let everyone know to begin partying in earnest.

The crab cakes were fine, but they perked right up when slathered in the roasted red peppery mayonnaise like mixture. A bite of a crab cake, a burst of spicy oil, a sip of wine and the witnessing of true love. It was truly a fine day.

And then, for dinner, they served cornbread with a spicey mango sauce. Needless to say, I put the mango sauce on more than it was intended for. I danced like a madwoman for a couple hours, then, when I got a little nippy, I scavenged a piece of cornbread and filled a endive leaf with some fresh salsa and the mango sauce so I could enjoy all the condiments together. It was sort of my condiment McGyver impression because they had taken away all the plates.

After dancing to Snoop Doggy Dog, we took our leave, the wine and mango sauce buzzing happily in our system.

REMOULADE

Condiment Grrl

Condiments in the News

Greetings devoted readers!

I'm adding a new, occasional feature to this blog - "Condiments in the News!" It does happen -- more often than you think. The misuse, abuse and denigration of some condiments. The celebration of others (did you know there's a mustard museum in Wisconsin? http://www.mustardmuseum.com/ No, I haven't been there. Yet.)

Anyhoo, I did a search on Yahoo news with the name of a maligned condiment, ketchup, and the first hit was a very intriguing article in the Times of India:

After ketchup, booze, Army faces sex taint

Goodness, what does that mean? I went to the article, but it only detailed the sexual harrassment complaints by a female officer. No mention of ketchup. And it sounds like a juicy scandal since I've rarely seen ketchup linked with booze. Wouldn't that be funny? A new crime -- Driving While Under the Influence of Condiments. Maybe in some bad Indie film, there's a scene where a recovered alcoholic falls off the wagon after sampling some bad ketchup. If there's not, I will write one.

So, I did a search on ketchup on the Times of India site and found the source of the scandal: a Colonel in the Indian army told his superiors that he had killed some militants, producing a fake photo of some soldiers covered in ketchup as evidence.

The misuse, abuse and denigration of ketchup. It's the fourth horseman of the apocalypse people. We are truly in the end times.

Give your ketchup bottle a hug!

Condiment Grrl

P.S. Tomorrow - MUSTARD in the news.

When life hands you artichoke hearts, make dip

Sometimes I don’t know if I would exist as the person that I am without the discovery of the canning and jarring processes. I peruse my pantry and my refrigerator and count the jars and cans of the various divine mixtures that I JUST CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT!

During a dark night of the soul when there was no happy musical on Turner Classic Movies, I began reading the list of ingredients and silently cringe at some of the “partially hydrogenate soybean oils” and “palm oils.” There are many great brands that dispense delicious mostly natural products, but how hard could it be to create my own condiments?

The answer is yes, of course, you CAN make your own condiments. The key is confidence and knowing what you want and like, and the operative word here is confidence.

When I was but a child (well, a teenager, but that seems like a child now), I loved acting. I was going to be a stage and movie star! You’ll see! You’ll all see and envy me! That hasn’t happened yet. But when I was in college, I began to realize that I didn’t like acting all that much, but *I* could never write a play. Only “other people” wrote plays. It wasn’t until later when I was improving a piece that I realized that I could, in fact, tell other people what to say and they would say it. I could write a play!

So, I started writing plays, but, I thought to myself, I could NEVER write a book. Why, that was just too hard. Only special people did that, people who had been to literary studies in small towns in Colorado. Then, I just started writing a book and I even managed to finish it. But I could never write a blog, I thought, but then…Oh, that’s a lie. Even I know that ANYONE can write a blog!

I decided to apply my can-do attitude toward the creation of an artichoke dip. I took a can of Trader Joe’s artichoke hearts. Please note that these are packed in water, so there’s no extra oils included. I chopped them up and dumped them in a bowl. Mayonnaise goes with everything, so I dumped some of that in. Balsamic vinegar, of course. I tossed in some julienned sun-dried tomatoes (drained of additional oils), some non-fat plain soy yogurt (it’s a good way to cut down on your mayonnaise content and still have a creamy consistency), and then I made a fatal mistake: I added some of my very favorite Norman Bishop Garlic Dill mustard and it just didn’t work with the other flavors in that context. So, I dumped more mayonnaise in to dilute it, discovered the mixture was too creamy, opened another can of artichoke hearts and put THOSE in, but ultimately ended up with a dish that I snuck onto the serving table, hoping that no one would ask about the travesty that was the artichoke dip.

But, I continued my experiments and this weekend, I managed to find the perfect combination: one can of Artichoke Hearts, ¼ - ½ of a cup of sun-dried tomatoes (drained of excess oil), a dollop (a heaping teaspoon) of low-fat mayonnaise, a dollop of non-fat plain soy yogurt, a dollop Walla Walla Sweet Onion mustard (just creamy and light enough to blend in with the other ingredients), a tablespoon or so of lemon juice, a tablespoon or so of balsamic vinegar, salt, pepper and you have nirvana on a sesame cracker.

Go ahead and try this at home and mix things up as you see fit. If you decide to be adventuresome with your mustard (always encouraged), be very cautious and try it out on a small amount of the existing batch. Play with the ingredient levels. You may not like lemons as much. I know that there’s no one out there who doesn’t like balsamic vinegar because you wouldn’t be reading this blog. You may want more or less mayonnaise. You should be able to taste the artichoke hearts pretty clearly. It’s a nice, low-fat dip.

Whatever you do or attempt, be it a dipping sauce or a career change, do it with confidence. You can become a rock star/cowgirl/comic book artist! You can create your own bruschetta to die for that can be proudly placed in the middle of the table at the next potluck you attend!

And when someone, consuming their fourth piece of bread heaped with your bruschetta, asks you why you’re smiling, you can say “I created that condiment. Me. Give me tribute!” Or not, because that sounds a little weird, but you get the picture.

Create that condiment!

Condiment Grrl

Ode to Balsamic Vinegar

Tonight, I would like to pay homage (or "give props" as the kids are saying these days) to balsamic vinegar. That sweet, tart and ancient flavor that turns a green salad into a sublime dining experience or a dessert into something with a touch of naughty medieval. I put balsamic vinegar on everything. EVERYTHING: salad, mashed potatoes, rice, hamburger, tofu, you name it, it's better with balsamic.

Part of the reason that I am thinking of balsamic vinegar is that my dear friend (and the godmother to my daughter Penelope) Lisa is visiting and she's the one who introduced me to balsamic vinegar.

Years ago, when we were first getting to know each other, we lived a few blocks away from each other in San Francisco. We were fresh out of college, filled with huge dreams and plans and visions of a future working with the San Francisco Mime Troupe, doing theater for the oppressed. Besides marching in Persian Gulf War protests dressed as dead Iraqis, we also loved fine foods and dining. Now, from the earliest time I could remember, I have adored salads and their assorted dressing. As a small child, my favorite was a mixture of ketchup, mayonnaise and red wine vinegar. As I grew into adulthood, I learned to make a mustard vinaigrette to die for.

But I had never tasted balsamic vinegar.

One night, Lisa invited me over for dinner and I watched in amazement as she swirled together this delicious salad dressing with this new kind of vinegar. If I looked closely into the swirling mass, I would have seen all my preconceived notions of goodness slowly disappearing into a deep purple sea. We ate the salad slowly, pausing to crush peppercorns with spoons to add to our meal. Edith Piaf blared from the boom box, singing of despair and love and heartache and it was a perfect moment. At the time, the recipe consisted of balsamic vinegar, olive oil, mustard, garlic, honey, and yeast powder. Yes, yeast powder. Try it sometime.

Over the years, we've shared many salads together. Our friendship has grown as have the salads in complexity and richness. Lisa is now a trapeze artist living in Berlin who's about to retire and move back to this country. The basic dressing recipe has evolved with our lives. For me, it now consists of balsamic, olive oil, garlic, a honey balsamic mustard, and worchestshire sauce. I attained nirvana when I made the dressing with a very expensive balsamic and olive oil.

Recently, my husband and I dined at Olivetto in Oakland and paid $20 for a taste of two amazing 20 year old balsamics. They were served to us in a shotglass and if you like balsamic at all, I highly recommend trying this sometime. Amazing. We didn't put it on food, we just swilled it from the glass, like a fine scotch.

I now have the joy of a daughter who loves condiments almost as much as I do. You'd think the picture below if of her eating chocolate, but it is of her enjoying her first balsamic vinaigrette. A moment a mother will treasure forever.




Live long and dress that salad!

Condiment Grrl 

Love Like Salt

Condiment of the day: locally produced Marionberry Chipotle sauce that I used on Turkey breast. It wasn't too sweet and it mixed well with salt n' pepa.

Let's go back to basics, shall we? According to the Dictionary, a condiment is: "A substance, such as a relish, vinegar, or spice, used to flavor or complement food."

A couple years ago, I was dining with several friends and one new acquaintance who I was quite impressed with. Like me, he worshipped the movie "The Warriors." He owned the soundtrack to "Fame" and could recite the lyrics to the obscure track "Dogs in the Yard." Free jar of my favorite Norman Bishop Garlic Dill mustard to the reader who can email me the lyrics!

Anyway, he was quite funny and smart and charming. Please note that this was not a romantic interest, but the warm glow that comes from finding a possible true-blue friend. Then, the waiter served us "Bliss sauce" (a sort of creamy horseradish mayonnaise) for our french fries and he pushed his away. "I don't really like condiments. Only ketchup." Now, my love for ketchup is well-established, but ONLY ketchup. Is he a strange alien sent from another world to witness life on this planet? Does he not love America? How could he not want the Bliss sauce?

Needless to say, I paused in my heedless rush to friendship with this individual and initiated a conversation on what a condiment was. He didn't consider anything "white" a condiment. I have no idea how he reached that strange conclusion. He didn't consider salt a condiment, when, in fact, salt is probably the great goddess mother of all condiments. The love of salt is celebrated in a folktale with variants from all over the world (check out http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/salt.html) that formed the basis of King Lear.

Here's the story:

A king had three daughters. He was a silly, shallow, vain man and wanted to hear glowing metaphors for how deeply his daughters loved him. His first two daughters, who were total suck-up idiot pain-in-the-asses said "I love you more than gold." Or diamonds (bling in general). Or sugar or pocket dogs or botox or other silly, vain things that the moron King deserved to hear. Then his gentlest, youngest daughter said, "I love you like I love salt on my food." Or something to that effect.

The King was furious and threw the baggage out into the world. She wandered, very sad, and ended up meeting a wonderful prince or hamburger vendor and getting married. Then she snuck back into the palace and managed to keep the cooks from salting his food. When he tasted his food and realized how terrible it was, he started weeping, because he realized how much his young daughter loved him. Then the other sisters were forced to work for a Shari's for the rest of their lives, restocking the table condiments. Okay, I made that part up, but that could be a fun story, couldn't it? Hmmm...

Love like salt. I have a two-year old daughter and I would never ask her to sing my praises (no, really, I won't. Shut up.) But I might be heard whispering to her at night, "Love like salt." Although, knowing me, I would probably whisper, "Love like balsamic vinegar," but that doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well.

Remember people, love like salt in everything you do,

Condiment Grrl

Steak, Maple Chipotle and an Unsatisfying Lost

A short blog posting tonight as I am EXHAUSTED from lifting, tasting and finally selecting the condiments to go with the delightful steak my husband prepared for me tonight. I almost went with the Blackberry Zinfandel Vinaigrette as it has a very thick texture, but it was just a tad too vinegary for me. This is odd, because I think vinegar, along with salami, is nature's perfect food.

However, I found myself combining a Jim Beam Gourmet Ketchup with a Maple Chipotle Glaze. It was still a little too sweet, but I did enjoy the Maple tang, especially when the flavor bled into the potato/parsnip smash on the side.

I needed to drown my sorrows tonight because the stupid TiVo stopped recording LOST right when Hurley walked up to talk to Libby at the end. What did he say? I'll never know. Did Libby die? Will Michael be revealed for the Manchurian Candidate or whatever that he is? I'll have to tune in next week. And maybe next week, I'll prepare something that goes with the Blackberry Zinfandel Vinaigrette.

Keep on Dipping!

Condiment Grrl

Young Love and Ketchup

Now that it's May and a young man's fancy should be turning to thoughts of love, I'm going to bring you some "found love letters." Yesterday, I found two crumpled pieces of paper on the curb in front of my house. Here, for your reading pleasure, are their contents.

The names have been changed to protect the innocent and not-so-innocent:

"Tony,
Hi. I know you never write back but I dont care. I went by your house yesterday because I took my brother to Grant cuz my brother wanted to go their. So after you guys left yesterday me and Lilac laid in the middle of the basketball court till 5:30. I think you like Bessie. Don't you? I asked you that B4 and you said no but I think you do. Well ya w/e. Why isn't Kevin at school? Lilac is really sad cuz she thinks Kevin hates her. She wrote me a note sayin please make Kevin stop hating me. She said she'll bve me 4 ever if I make him stop. Yeah she likes him alot. I mite wear pants with no writing on them this week. Maybe. Why should I wear pants with no writing on them this week. I never do. I'm so bored grr!! I wrote alot of people a note. So then I wrote you a note. Ben came up to me 2 day and asked me if I liked you and I said who told you that he said Tony. We wanted you and Lilac wanted Kevin to come back yesterday. We were like hopefully they'll come back ME and Lilac r gonna lay in the middle of the basketball court after skool again cuz its fun. Well ya. I really did cry about the Lana thing. You think its funny but it's not your mean. Ugh. Well no more room even though you dont write back its not gonna stop me from writing yo.

Peace out! Celene"

And then this missive:

"Tony,
We went by your house at like 11:15 pm. We were calling ur name. Emily called you last nite and said it was me. Well not like you care but I'm sad at you cuz your gonna go out with Bessie cuz she said she likes you and she'd go out with you and now sence you know that your gonna go out with her and now I don't even have a tiny itty-bitty chance with you. TT. Well how r u? Today if you can me and Lilac will be in the b-ball courts at 5:15 cuz she has 2 go 2 counsling if you and Kevin want 2 hang out. Well w/b even know you won't you should. Well, Peace out!

Celene's name is signed with little hearts on each side on each letter and I found them crumpled on the street. Clearly, this Tony does not care about her or her tenderly offered feelings. Really, these letters are making me tear up; I so vividly remember the pain and angst and anguished love of my early teenaged years. This girl wrote her heart out to this boy and she's right when she says "you don't write back." No, honey, he don't write back. The sooner you learn that there are some boys who just don't write back, the sooner you can be free for lots of fabulous adventures all over the world with boys or girls who do write back and who will adore you for the amazing creature who always wears pants with writing on them.

I long to go buy two chocolate milkshakes and a bag of hot, delicious french fries with lots of ketchup on the side and deliver them to Celene and Lilac as they lay waiting, hoping and wishing, in the middle of the basketball court, for two young boys who will probably never join them because Tony's off with that tramp, Bessie. I would do this, but I know that they'd think I was some crazy, perverted lady and probably throw away the food.

Ketchup is the ideal condiment for this situation because it encompasses sweet and savory and bad chemical compounds you really shouldn't be eating in one gleaming mound of red goodness. Celene could take a hot french fry, swipe it through a smear of ketchup, and crunch down on it, picturing the blood steaming out of Tony's cold heart.

Celene, I am visualizing a wonderful future for you.

Pass the ketchup,

CondimentGrrl

CondimentGrrl Begins

Welcome to my blog! If you're reading this, you either really love me or you're proscratinating. Cut it out! Don't read this! Get back to work! Write that book! Plant that garden! Defeat that loathsome Republican running for local office!

Or keep reading.

The first question you may have for me is "Why CondimentGrrl? Why such a strange, cryptic alias?" Well, children, these are strange and cryptic times. But there's one thing that gets me through the day: condiments. When my husband and I first moved in together, I went to work while he was unpacking the kitchen. When I came home, he was bent over in defeat in front of the refrigerator.

"We're going to need another refrigerator for your condiments." He sighed.

It was almost like that scene in Jaws when Roy Scheider first sees the shark and says, "We're going to need a bigger boat."

Yes, my love for condiments is like the slow, stealthy, lethal hunger of the great predator of the deep. I head to the store for Cheerios and come home with a fabulous new cranberry-infused horseradish mustard that I JUST HAD TO TRY on mashed potatoes. Or Cheerios.

So, here on my inaugural blog, I will post just a sampling of the condiments currently inhabiting my kitchen. I plan to blog about my favorite condiments and recipes in the future too:

Norman Bishop's Garlic and Dill Mustard - tasting this mustard is like looking upon the face of God. Really. It's brought me to a whole new spiritual plateau in my life.

Garlic and Onion Jam - sweet and savory. Delicious on lamb and pork.

Lemon Dill Caper Sauce - to die for creamy sauce that transforms plain roasted chicken into a night at Maxime's in Paris with a young and handsome Louis Jourdan pouring you yet another glass of bubbly while groping your knee under the table. Continental and earthy at the same time.

Annie's Goddess Dressing - I only recently discovered this absolutely out of this world dressing/sauce and have renamed it "crack." Because, YOU CANNOT STOP DIPPING THINGS INTO IT. Subtle Asian flavors infused into a creamy base.

More condiments to come. But for now, I'll leave you with this touching story of my youth so you begin to understand my psyche and my passion:

As a wee girl in the wilds of Oakland, California, one of my favorite snacks was raw garlic and cold milk. The burning, tangy taste of the garlic could instantly be softened and transformed by the sweet cool milk. I introduced one of my little friends to this taste treat and, to my delight and surprise, she loved it as well. She had a birthday party soon after and had all us girls gather in her dining room for a snack. At every place on the table, was a little clove of garlic and a glass of milk.

The other girls just stared, but she looked at me and smiled. "I just thought it was really good."

Amen, sister. I would like to say that we stayed friends forever, but the only thing I can remember about her is that her name was Shannon and she was vaguely stout with brown hair. Hopefully, she's now a master chef at Maxime's and having fabulous life somewhere.

To Dip is to Live,

CondimentGrrl