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
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
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