Lemonaise or DIY?

I mentioned in my last blog that I recently purchased a new condiment, Lemonaise, that I've been eyeing for years. I had avoided it because I figured I could just mix lemon juice and whatever else I was peckish for into a base of mayonnaise and not spend the extra dollars on someone else's idea of a lemon dip. Oftentimes, you'll find that the flavor advertised on the bottle is buried beneath the guar gum and corn syrup and you're left with a vaguely dissatisfied taste on your tongue (which reminds me of too many spin-the-blistick games in college, but a-HEM). This is genuinely light and lemony. (Disclaimer: I did buy the light version, so I'm not sure how the full fat version tastes. Someone let me know.)

Last night, I had some roast chicken slathered with my usual Lemon Dill & Caper sauce, but I carefully placed a bit of the Lemonaise on the side. Definately two different experiences for two different moods. As I dipped the chicken, either by fork or by hand, into one of the two sauces, it quickly became apparent that Lemonaise was the right choice for chicken in the summer. It was just lighter and the lemony flavor floated right to the surface.

And it begs the old question about time versus money - do I want to spend the time creating a "metacondiment" or do I want to buy something pre-bottled? Obviously, looking at the massive number of jars of fennel/avocado salsa/chutney/horseradish, etc. many people want to buy a higher class of meal without doing the work involved. You can just slather on a delicious specialty mustard and toss something in the oven for half an hour and you're a great cook. It's all part of making our lives easier and that's not a bad thing.

But the Lemonais drove home why I am here for you, why I devote my life to you, my dear readers. I want to help you navigate the shelves and easily create fabulousness in your kitchen. And I may occasionally help you create something from scratch. Sometimes it doesn't matter what you eat, it's what you dip it into. Which again reminds me of the spin-the-blistick game so I must sign off.

Your devoted,

Condiment Grrl

You've Got to Fight for Your Right to PAR-TAKE!

Big Daddy Condiment -- the king of all sauce-makers, came for Sunday dinner tonight. I prepared a plate of my two recent Norman Bishop deliveries: Cranberry Mustard and G*D Mustard; the Sun-Dried Tomato Pesto I just blogged about; and a new addition to my condiment canon: Lemonaise by The Ojai Cook . I spooned a quantity of each onto a dish surrounded by sesame crackers. Big Daddy barely made it to the table before Baby Balsamic had vaulted into her booster seat and started licking up the cranberry mustard. She loves it. It's her ketchup.

As expected, Big Daddy enjoyed the G*D mustard tremendously and I tucked a jar into his bag as a thank you for giving me life and raising me and all that.

Big Daddy, buzzing on condiments and Rainer beer, began walking down memory lane with a tale of a brave fight for the rights of all to choose their own condiments.

My late Godfather was a dear friend of Big Daddy's from his crazy Venice Beach days. He was also a fiery fighter for truth and justice. He once went into a restaurant in L.A. with a Japanese friend of his (this was many years ago), where they were promptly completely ignored by the waitstaff, presumably because of the nationality of my Uncle Bob's friend. Uncle Bob went to a pay phone, called a Chinese restaurant that delivered, had food delivered to the restaurant, and he and his friend proceeded to eat their Chinese takeout in the restaurant that attempted to ignore them.

Uncle Bob and Big Daddy Condiment used to work construction jobs together. At one job, they went daily to a nearby hot dog stand. Horror of horrors, the proprietor mixed the mustard and relish together. You couldn't have one without the other. You couldn't choose your own condiment balance. It was, frankly, un-American. Uncle Bob ranted and railed daily until one day he went to get his hot dog and lo and behold, there was the mustard and the relish separated out in their own containers.

My Uncle Bob did not take injustice laying down. He stood up for what was right and true, even in the face of daunting odds, bigoted waiters, and unimaginative sidewalk vendors. I labor daily to instill that same spirit into Baby Balsamic, who's already ready to march on Olympia, so bitterly disappointed is she in the recent Washington Supreme Court decision on marriage rights. She was all set to be the flower girl in HER Godfather's marriage to his partner of almost fifteen years.

She's sleeping now, her brow furrowed as she unconsciously tries to work out how a two-year old can fight injustice. My brow is furrowed as I try to work out how I can fight injustice so she grows up into a better world. For inspiration, perhaps I will place next to her bed a bowl of relish, a bowl of mustard, and a fortune cookie that reads, "There is hope in the minds and spirits of all, if they will open their eyes and hearts."

Condiment Grrl

A Happy Discovery

Greetings, sister and fellow condiment lovers. I am taking a brief breath from inhaling a jar of G*D mustard. I just got a shipment after a few dry months and I'm pretty much bathing in the stuff. But there are other mustards and condiments to review and write about so you, the hungry masses, will be able to appropriately dress your salad, pasta, roadkill, etc. with a prepared substance that will make the laziest among us appear to be the sweatiest sous chef.

Condiments come into our lives in the most sublime ways. Today, Baby Balsamic and I were frolicking with other mothers and tots at our weekly mother's group. After a sampling of the usual mother's group fare: scones, coffee, fruit, the host mother, Abigail, raised an eyebrow at me and asked "would you like to try a new condiment?"

Is the Pope Catholic?

Is Smokey the Bear a Bear?

Is Pat Robertson the biggest Republican liar with no direct line to anything remotely approaching God?

Yes, Goddess, yes!

She then served me tiny melba toasts with a dollop of a Sun-Dried Tomato Pesto. Now, it's hard to mess up sun-dried tomatoes, but it's been known to happen. And this took sun-dried tomatoes by the hand and led them into a happy group marriage with Olive Oil, Parmesan Cheese, and Garlic. No pine nuts or basil, but it had that distinctly pesto-ish finish. Of course, Baby Balsamic, seeing me with my eyes rolled back in my head, had to partake as well.

This pesto is locally made by Anne's Pesto and contains no additives or preservatives. In fact, the ingredient list ends with the charming detail: "and a Hint of Maple Syrup, Salt & Black Pepper." No hidden bad chemicals, something that I know I often write about. I try and avoid processed foods when possible, but with my love of condiments, they tend to sneak in so I am especially enamored of all-natural products.

Below is a rather awful photo of their jar. Really, I will improve my photos in the future. I will.

 

I have yet to try this condiment in the making of a dinner, but Big Daddy Condiment is coming for Sunday dinner and we'll see if I can impress the original crazy sauce-maker himself. My father was the one who introduced me to my favorite condiment, really a "meta-condiment" (a condiment comprised of other condiments), a homemade Thousand Island dressing of ketchup, mayonnaise, and red wine vinegar. Just the thought of it still makes my mouth water.

I will post the results of my first foray into the happy world of Anne's Sun-Dried Tomato Pesto.

Off to a photography lesson,

Condiment Grrl 

It's not you, it's me - Part I

Life is fraught with disappointments. Maybe you didn't get those lead roles in college that were denied you in high school because you just weren't pretty enough. Maybe the stupid high school dynamic of cool kids vs. everyone else didn't end after graduation, not even from college, and plagued you in your "grown up" job for years. Maybe when you finally tried to buy a house, you found you could only afford a tiny, decrepit house surrounded by barking dogs and jovial crack addicts. Maybe you put your hand trustingly into the hand of someone you thought loved you, only to have them thrust their three-legged chihuahau at you to hold while they were fleeing the police.

Perhaps I am in a reflective and sober mood because I am listening to Tori Amos. She'll make you believe your past was far sadder than it was, given half a chance. "Oh, mother the caaaaarrrrr is heeerrrreee. Somebody leeeaaavvvee the liiiigghht ooooooon."

For me, one of the biggest disappointments is when a condiment doesn't live up to its promise. I previously blogged about the sadness in a jar that was the Silver Palatte Spicy Cranberry Apple Chutney. Well, Tori and a fit of Mr. Mustard's ("this is it! Clean out the fridge! There's too many condiments! I can't stand it anymore!" ) have led me to begin an intimate review of condiments that I have eagerly opened, hoping for a taste of joy, of Christmas morning, of a mysterious evening in a French chateau with a handsome stranger with a bottle of good wine and a wolfish grin. ("Heeeeeeee'sssss going to chaaaaaanggggeee my naaaammmee. Maaaaaybeee he'll leaaaavvveee the liiiiiggghht oooooon.") The best condiments can easily transform a simple meal into a peek into a different life, a taste of a life where you can spend five hours in your gourmet kitchen preparing Cornish hen with a fennel-orange glace with a vanilla pod infused finish.

Disclaimer: I am not the be all, end all for what you might like. I like to think I have impeccable tastes, but you might taste one of the three condiments listed below and feel that you've stumbled upon a little slice of heaven. Or not.

1. Blackberry Peppercorn Zinfandel Vinaigrette by Earth & Vine Provisions

When you put three of my favorite flavors together in a title with a loaded word like vinaigrette, well you got me. The first strike against it is its consistency: sludgy and thick, more like a marinade than a vinaigrette. If poured on a salad, it would take a great deal of tossing to get it to even out over the salad. Just tasting it again, I have to say that it perfectly balances out the three ingredients in the title, but these three flavors, as appealing as they sound, don't go that well together. The wine taste sort of brings the whole concoction down with an earthiness that doesn't suit the co-mingling of the blackberry and the peppercorn. It might work on a tangy salad comprised of chunky ingredients, like carrots and olives.

2. Maple Chipotle Grille Sauce by Stonewall Kitchen

Now, I am a fan of other Stonewall Kitchen products AND this bottle is deceptively low, indicating that it has been used and loved. It has been used, but not loved. I've pulled it out on occasions when I've been out of Worcestershire Sauce to mix with ketchup on steak night. And when I think of those nights, a sadness settles on my heart, right on top of the cholesterol from the red meat, remembering how the maple chipotle was just too, too, too...maple. I should have known, but I think the sauce had me at "chipotle." What I really needed was Chipotle Tabasco.

3. Blackcurrant Dijon Mustard by Edmond Fallot

Edmond Fallot makes another favorite mustard of mine, Honey Balsamic, but because I purchased the Blackcurrant Dijon first, I might never have discovered the Honey Balsamic had Mr. Mustard not snuck a jar in my Christmas stocking. The Blackcurrant Dijon is just bitter; there's no sweet underpining of blackcurrant. It's too bad because I found out from Wikipedia that I would be healthier if I ate this mustard because "Blackcurrant seed oil is a rich source of gamma-linolenic acid (GLA), a very rare essential fatty acid." But I am not willing to sacrifice flavor for an essential fatty acid. I'd rather pour flaxseed oil in my salad dressing.

More disappointments to come in the future, depending on the next time I pull a Tori Amos CD out of my closet.

Somebody Leave The Light On

Condiment Grrl

Condiments and the Apocalyse

Between terrorists, bird flu, global warming, and George Bush attempting to give the German Chancellor a backrub, we are told to prepare for crisis and chaos. Buy up camping supplies, freeze-dried food and firestarters and prepare to hunker down in your all-purpose shelter (the term bomb shelter is so passe).

I recently revisited my disaster planning in my head while watching the recent remake of "War of the Worlds" trying to distract myself from Tom Cruise's performance. In the early part of the movie, Tom instructs his older son to pack up food so they can flee the giant, scary, blood-drinking tripods of doom. When they arrive at a rest stop, Tom peruses the food packed by his son with growing anger: "Ketchup? Mustard? Relish? Barbeque sauce?" Of course, we're supposed to sympathize with Tom's character when he lashes out at his son for packing the wrong kinds of food, but my eyes were overflowing as I realized that I would only be able to pack a certain number of condiments at the time of the apocalyse and some would have to go. How could this be? How could I lose any of my, to quote Gollum, "preciouses?"

As I wait for my latest case of Norman Bishop Dill Garlic mustard, I'm aware that at least three bottles of that will be tucked into my "in case of the apocalyse" case. Ketchup, of course. A jug of Trader Joe's Balsamic vinegar. I'll have to roam through my cabinets and see what will fit and what Mr. Mustard will allow.

And let's not even mention the fact that the Tom's son in the movie deserved a medal for quick thinking. When the demand is high for various foodstuffs, will the people want the soylent green or the sauce that will hide the taste of the soylent green? I'm betting on the barbeque sauce.

Think Peace,

Condiment Grrl

Condiments on Ice

We are in the middle of a heat wave and I have been trying to get my sweat-addled brain to pop out a cooling condiment; one that cools down the food to which it is being applied. For example, hot fudge sauce heats up the ice cream a bit, melting and re-forming as a sludgy, creamy pool. But is there a cold condiment that might cool down hot potatoes in the same kind of yummy way. Not much of a blog today because I have to go expire from the heat. I'm going to take Baby Balsamic somewhere cool and let her frolic in sprinklers.

Stay cool,

Condiment Grrl

Pablano Aioli and Demure Popcorn

Yesterday was my birthday and Mr. Mustard and I got gussied up, left Baby Balsamic in the care of her Godfather, Uncle Cherry, and went out to dinner and a movie. A rare treat for the busy condiment couple on the go!

First off, we stopped at a local Argentinian eatery and dined on lobster salad with a champagne vinaigrette (fine, but not that exciting), yucca fries, and grilled prawns. Yucca fries are a bit denser than potatoes and have an inherent sweetness to their meat that went very nicely with the pablano aioli dipping sauce provided. Now, here's a strange thing: the grilled prawns were also served with a pablano aioli, but it was not as spicy or good as the one served on the side of the yucca fries. Was it because the Yucca fries sweetness contrasted more readily with the zip of the pablano creaminess? Because the prawns were a bit oily, which mixed with the aioli, diluting it? Probably both those things and a little bit more, but, like Iris Dement, I will let the mystery be and wrap myself in the sweet memory of dipping the crispy yucca fry in the pablano, savoring it, then taking a sip of delicious Argentinian wine.

Next up, Mr. Mustard and I went to see "The Devil Wears Prada." This has nothing to do with condiments, but let me just say that if Meryl Streep were a condiment, she would be Balsamic vinegar, Dill Garlic Mustard and Holy Jalapeno relish. And many more. She's that good.

After the film, I was waiting for Mr. Mustard to emerge from the powder room (he's quite vain), when I noticed a row of open, plastic canisters in the napkin and fork counter across from the snack bar. I picked one up, sniffed it, and was transported to a greasy spoon in the backwoods of California that served a moderately decent spagetti. Then, I picked up another one and was taken back to Girl Scout camp and Spin the Bottle and S'mores with a whiff of Chocolate Marshmallow. These were brands of spices that you could sprinkle on your popcorn! I had never heard of such a thing. My first thought was that they must contain every bad chemical known to humankind, but no, they did not. No MSG or anything. They had a full range from Jalapeno to just plain Butter. The brand is No More Naked Popcorn and I plan to order a jar or two for my private reserve. I can't vouch for it now because we didn't have popcorn, but I will review in the future.

And I'm another year older and all I can think about are all the yummy condiments in my future. It's a good life.

Condiment Grrl

A Tale of Two Condiments

At my birthday party last year, I requested that people bring me condiments as a tribute offering. And oh boy, did my friends answer the call. I got a whole line of Jim Beam products (their gourmet ketchup was pretty good) and a crazy variety of strong mustards, many of which I still haven't touched. That's how many jars of goodies I received. Truly, I am blessed with far too much tribute ("you got that right" growls Mr. Mustard from nearby).

So, recently we were having lamb chops for dinner. Imagine if you will, the disappointment on my face when I opened the refridgerator to find no trace of my favorite accompaniment to baby sheep: Roasted Garlic and Onion Jam. I like the spikey sweetness of an unlikely jam for a very sweet meat. I was devastated. I turned to my condiment cabinet, which houses many unopened condiments. I found two possible dates for my frisky chops and opened them both ("Both? Christ." grumbled Mean Mr. Mustard): Holy Jalapeno and Spiced Cranberry Apple Chutney from The Silver Palate.

I had high expectations for the chutney; the Silver Palate Good Times cookbook is an excellent resource and contains one of my favorite recipes for Chicken Marbella. The ingredient list was promising: Cranberries, Apples, Sugar, Walnuts, Orange Rind, Wine Vinegar, Salt, Spices. Nothing unwholesome or partially hydrogenated. However, hardly any of those tastes came through. It tasted like a robust cinammon apple sauce. The savory elements were hidden and I could barely taste the cranberries. Don't get me started on the walnuts. I don't believe they were there. I think they held the jar up next to a walnut tree and called it good.

The Holy Jalapeno, however, was a great surprise. I forgot who gave this to me, but if you're reading this - THANK YOU. A really spicy, sweet, well-balanced relish that enhanced my chop with the nicest little kick at the end. It really looks like relish, like good old fashioned hot dog relish, but when you put a bit in your mouth you're taken out to more than the ball game. And none of the fructose corn syrup or any of those bad things. The company that makes it only makes the relish and t-shirts celebrating the relish. I do wish they'd branch out a bit. They cleary have the condiment gift.

And now I have this open Spiced Cranberry Apple Chutney open. I can't give it as a "slightly used" gift. It joins the ranks of other sauces and marinades that have sounded promising, then disappointed. Sitting in my refridgerator, waiting for it to ferment so I can at least get tipsy when I consume it.

Or I may have a "share your condiment" party. Stay tuned.

Holy Jalapeno!

Condiment Grrl

Tzatziki - a mysterious condiment I can't spell

Well, dear readers, this is embarrassing. I had to look up the spelling of this condiment on wikipedia.org. A site I've now become far too dependent on for information. Perhaps I shall start condimentpedia, but I suspect that a bunch of porn ads will suddenly appear on the page. I can't tell you the number of people who start giving a knowing chuckle when they hear that I am blogging about condim....ents. "Oh. What?" "You know, like ketchup, mustard. All that." "Ah, I see." They're usually disappointed. I think they were hoping that I had a more lurid side, but if expressing a wish to lick G*D mustard off Russell Crowe's naked body isn't lurid, then I don't know what is. A-hem.

Today Mr. Mustard, Baby Balsamic and I headed to the Ballard Farmer's Market after reading about the tasty treats offered at the food booths in this article. We treated ourselves to a selection of the bruschettina with a variety of toppings: ricotta cheese with venetian sea salt, cabbage salad and italian sausage and greens. Beginning with the delicious squirt of olive oil as you bite into the fried toasts and ending with the tart taste of cabbage or the spicy greens or the salt-crunchy ricotta, these were delectable. I especially enjoyed the ricotta with sea salt because, well, it included a condiment prominently in its description. The salt brought out the fresh and more subtle flavors of the all-natural ricotta.

We also happened upon a pita booth offering sandwiches with fresh organic, free-range, only fed by blind nuns, Italian sausage and tzatziki sauce. Without the light flavor of the tzatziki, the sandwich would have been far too oily. As I licked a bit of the deceptively white and simple sauce off my hand, I wondered why I didn't have a bottle of this in my kitchen. It can go with so many things and is a very unique flavor - yoghurt with mint, cucumber, and garlic (and possibly other ingredients, but those are the standard). It's fresh, with the musky taste of the yoghurt complimented by the light, juicy cucumber. And garlic just makes about anything better. I want to try it on chicken breast, with a side of tabouleh.

Many years ago, I had a sometimes unkind boyfriend (definately NOT Mr. Mustard), who once told me of a romantic interlude he shared with a very plump Greek woman. He then went on to tell me that I was a bit too heavy for him and that this woman pulled it off, while I did not. When I think of tzatziki, I think of Greece and of this long-ago slight that caused me untold angst. But it is not the fault of the tzatziki, so I think I will research various brands and see which will entice me to dip my pita in it and embrace my womanliness on a regular basis.

You can't blame the condiment for the memory. And who knows, I may soon dream of licking it off Naveen Andrews for a little multicultural culinary erotica.

Condiment Grrl

A grave error

Well, kids, I realized that I have been committing a grave and terrible error in my blog. And because the error involves my all-too-frequently blogged about Norman Biship Dill Garlic Mustard, I must remedy it right away.

Please note, that the true name is Dill Garlic Mustard and I've been calling it Garlic and Dill Mustard or G*D Mustard. Why? How could I be wrong about a mustard that is so right? My theory is that I just really wanted to call it G*D mustard because it's divine. Heh. That was a stupid joke.

Anyway, I found this out because I was attempting to order a case through their wholesale distributor. I don't think I can, because although I'm an *institution*, I'm not a company. But maybe I'll form one so I can buy a case of the G*D mustard and a case of the cranberry mustard (easily the best).

Oh, and I'll leave you with a heartwarming Baby Balsamic story: on vacation recently, we stopped for lunch in Mendocino. I had ordered fish and chips and Baby B was chomping away on the chips. As the waitress set the fish in front of me, with a glistening cup of tartar sauce perched on the edge, Baby B, without a word, swiped a french fry through the tartar. Then she quickly put it in her mouth and smiled at me. Thank God I'm imparting SOMETHING of value to her.

Love and G*D mustard (that's really Dill Garlic Mustard)

Condiment Grrl

Condiments in the Comics

Suddenly, they're EVERYWHERE. Check out these two recent comics from Rudy Park:





Ah, I love how an important topic (side dish or food!) can be handled with humor. This is one of the most important questions facing America, nay THE WORLD today. The next time you spoon something on your dish, evaluate it. Are you going to spoon it by itself or dip something into it? And if you're going to spoon it by itself, are you going to do it furtively or openly and proudly. Think on it.

Condiment Grrl

How things work in the Condiment world, Part 1

Today, I was strolling down the condiment aisle of our local upscale supermarket. It's a place that I come to when I need to clear my head or fondle a pickled onion or two. Now, it is a sad fact of life that I can find no supermarket that carries Norman Bishop's Garlic Dill mustard. Not one. Not even Larry's or Whole Foods. It's like a satanic cabal is working its magic to separate me from my favorite mustard. I had already filled out a suggestion card to the market to no avail.

I expressed my feelings on this sad state of affairs to my friend and noted that while the store did carry other Norman Bishop products, it did not carry what I will now refer to as G*D mustard. I also noted that while they did carry two varieties of Edmond Fallot mustards, they did not carry my favorite blend: Edmond Fallot Honey & Balsamic Dijon mustard.

Then, a voice behind me said, "I know why that is."

I quickly turned, expecting the Condiment Angel to appear (think of the Great Pumpkin, only more edible). There was a woman with a clipboard and a shopping cart.

"Distributors will not sell certain lines to some stores. They only have a limited amount for their area, so they will only supply them to select stores."

I proceeded to wax rhapsodic about G*D mustard. A smiling man in an apron appeared behind the woman.

"Yeah, the Norman Bishop salesperson doesn't really offer us that much. They're not that interested."

Well, dear reader, I have never in my life contemplated a career in Sales. But I would contemplate a career in sales of Norman Bishop products, if my blog didn't require me to keep an objective tongue. I said this to the young man and he said, "You've already sold it to me through your passion." He provided me his card and asked me to drop off an empty jar, but I offered to drop off a full jar. And no, I did not offer to then lick it off his supine body. I only do that with Mr. Mustard.

I thought it was interesting that what you see in the market is controlled by the whims of salespeople and distributors. I'm still not convinced some of them aren't in league with the satanic cabal.

Now I must run to order a case of my G*D mustard so I can ensure the condiment lovers of the world have easier access to it.

Good night,

Condiment Grrl

The times they are a changin' through hot sauce

So, as I just previously blogged, I just spent some time in Northern California. As a child, my parents and I would travel to our rustic cabin on our property in the Anderson Valley. Back then, it was a few apple orchards, feed stores and one funky country store - Jack's - where I would regularly purchase a fudgesicle.

Well, the times they are a changin'. With the hailing of red wine as an antioxidant and destroyer of heart disease, wineries are popping up everywhere and now Anderson Valley is the new Napa Valley. There's a delicious winery just ten minutes from our country place: Brutacao Cellars. We stopped in on our trip back from being off the grid and tasted a variety of succulent wines, topping it off with a pepper chocolate (my new favorite thing in the world) and a taste of their yummy, light port.

The wineries has meant that the small, country stores now stock high-end mustards and condiments. They don't just boast French's mustard, but a variety of dijons and relishes and chutneys to satiate the foodie masses as they retreat from the city. I feel very strange acknowledging that I enjoy the new additions to the store; very Bourgeois.

And with the new wineries comes an influx of Mexican workers to pick the grapes which has also changed how the local stores stock foods -- now there's a lot more hot sauce. In fact, a foodie friend, John, who's been ordered by his doctor to stay away from hot sauce because he has three ulcers, introduced me to a new hot sauce being sold for $1 a jar. John was contemplating buying a case of the sauce he liked it so much, as did I. It was hot, but had a good balance of vinegar to not make it too vicious. It was sort of like a Tabasco on steroids.

I'm experimenting with new technology and posting a picture of the bottle:



As you can see, I need to work on my food photography skills. And on this bottle of hot sauce; I haven't even opened it yet.

Picante!

Condiment Grrl 

A true story

I am back from my vacation. Every year, I join a group of old friends at a different location where we let our children frolic in the sun while we sit around and eat bad foods. This year, we went to an "off the grid" solar and wind powered farm in Northern California. It was beautiful, but if you learn anything from me besides that you must have at least six kinds of mustard in your refrigerator to be considered civilized, know that rustic cabin with outhouse up a hill PLUS stomach flu does not equal a relaxed respite from the modern world. Quite the opposite. Baby Balsamic did enjoy the lizard that lived on the steps of our cabin. And not with hot sauce.

However, I did have the opportunity to see an old, dear friend who recounted to me his memory of our first meeting.

"You'll probably be embarassed, but I found it charming."

"What? What?" I asked eagerly. Was I wearing an enchanting paisley halter top? Was I dancing to a latin groove, shaking my hips enticingly? Was I speaking articulately about some difficult and complex topic that affects all of us, like tomato farming?

No.

"You were eating something and there was a glob of mustard on your arm. I pointed it out to you and you said 'Oh' and wiped your finger through it and put it in your mouth."

I was secretly pleased that I did not let the tiniest bit of mustard go to waste. A conservationist always. It also drove home a simple truth, one that we overlook in these crazy times: condiments create lifelong friendships and community. Haven't you ever used the food table to meet friends and influence people? I will routinely lurk by the food table when I'm at a gathering with unfamiliar people. I'll identify a particularly delicious dip, then lie in wait for someone else to try it. When they do, I pounce, "It's great, isn't it? What's your name?"

Later in the party, my dear friend Susan tasted a carmelized onion dip that was to die for and, with a gleam in her eye, looked around at everyone and said "What's to stop me from slathering this dip all over my husband's body and licking it off." What indeed (Mr. Mustard isn't up for cream-based dips being rubbed on him, but I'll get him yet).

The next time you see a good friend, find your common condiment. It will last you a lifetime.

Be well,

Condiment Grrl