But Where Were the Sport Peppers?

I've included pictures in this post!

So, this summer, Mr. Mustard, Baby Balsamic, and myself did a little midwestern roadtrip to visit a variety of friends and family members. We journeyed from St. Paul to Wisconsin (cheese curds!) to Michigan (depressing cities!) to Chicago, a great city that I had never visited before.

But I was familiar, oh so familiar with their hot dogs. You see, duckies, millions of years ago, at the dawn of time, when I was in college and there was ANOTHER Bush in office, I worked at a delightful Oakland establishment, Colonel Mustard's, which specialized in Chicago-style hot dogs. I went through intensive hot dog boot camp (keep your minds out of the gutters!) where I had to learn the essentials to craft a Chicago-style hot dog. We used Viennia Beef hot dogs and allowed the customer to choose a small one (Captain), big one (Colonel), or a Polish (really big). The processed meat was placed lovingly in a steamed bun, then slathered with the customer's choice of mild or hot mustard, then relish, sliced tomatoes, pickle spears, celery salt (VERY IMPORTANT), and, if the customer so chose, sport peppers. These are little pickled peppers which strike some wimpy humans as too hot, but not the superior beings who roam the planet (like you and me).

Of course, it was during this time that I discovered that I don't have a lot of aptitude for customer service. I find most of them inane. Some people would stare and stare and stare at the menu board for freaking hours where it clearly stated that we had Captains, Colonels, or Polish dogs. Then they would turn to me and say, "I want a hot dog." And I would have to ASK them what kind. It was painful. But I was still polite. Don't get me started on the state of customer service today.

Okay rant off.

Anyway, I had to enjoy a hot dog in the capital of the hot dog world so we entered a crowded joint called, appropriately enough, The Weiner Circle. You know, I JUST figured out that that's a play on the phrase "Winner's Circle." That's mildly amusing. Anyway, I ordered my hot dog, and they, as all us hot dog workers since the dawn of time, asked "Do you want sport peppers on that?" And I, being a good American and not a communist loser, said "YES!!!"

I was 3/4 of the way through my dog when I realized that there were no sport peppers. I felt betrayed by the workers, the hot dog, and the entire city of Chicago, but most of all, by myself, because I had not noticed that the sport peppers were missing from the experience. I am hanging my head in shame right now.

But I'll go and have a Colonel to cheer myself up.

Condiment Grrl

Baby Balsamic and I enjoy some quality mother/daughter dipping time.

A thing of beauty, even without the sport peppers

A definate preference for the Savory

First off, I must apologize for my horrible lack of blog entries. I was busy at my day job, since blogging about condiments doesn't "quite" cover the bills. And then I went away to a lovely wedding where I got to watch as my dear friend Karen, married her partner Carla. And it was in New Mexico so there were tears of joy and green chiles for miles and miles. Now I love my green chiles spread over my porquito tamale as much as the next person, but their deliciousness was nothing to the absolute emotional deliciousness of watching two people clearly in love and meant to be together, pledge to be there for each other through thick and thin, better or worse, red chiles and green chiles.

And afterwards we danced and ate lots of fajitas.

But that's not what this entry is about. It's about Caramelized Onions from Williams-Sonoma. To be truthful, I look askance at Williams-Sonoma because they're just a little too smug about their shining silver chafing dishes and their entitlement to a place in your sparkling chef's kitchen. And frankly, when I thought of them, I thought of fondue spears and citrus zesters, not condiments, but it seems every Tom, Dick, and William (heh heh) are getting into the condiment business. And someone saw fit to gift me with a jar of Caramelized Onions which are "a delicious savory topping for sandwiches, hamburgers, and panini." I have tried this sweet, yet savory glop (I can't find the more technical word for it) on those things yet, but I have tried it on pork chops and cheddar cheese and found it quite tasty. The onions are tender and soaked and prodded down to a fine squiggly mess in with the body of the sauce that also contains Balsamic Glaze, Caramel, Butter, and Sea Salt.

You know it's good when you would eat each one of the ingredients on its own. Butter AND Caramel. It's like the angels smiling from heaven. My one complaint is that it's a little TOO sweet. It's like the makers didn't trust the savory to be good, but honestly, isn't that just the main problem with America today? But, for full disclosure, I don't like Krispy Kreme donuts -- they're just too gooey sweet. I like a little bite to my donut, a hint of the grease and flour that went into the pastry. And I'd like a little more taste of the eye-watering onion. But it's still quite good.

And I would put a picture up, but I've given up on my condiment photography (I really, really suck), and now steal the pictures from the product website, but I could not locate this on the Williams-Sonoma website. And I'm a professional.

A professional what, I couldn't tell you, but one day I'll find out.

Condiment Grrl

Specialty Salt is the new black

After months and months of being grievously tempted, then resisting, I finally turned to the dark side and found in my possession Gray Sea Salt with Five Pepper Blend. One of them new fangled "specialty salts" that so disappointed me months ago, when I got a strange cranberry blend that just tasted weird. Not salty, not cranberry, just...odd.

But let me back up. I recently had a birthday and Mr. Mustard very sensitively presented me with an array of expensive specialty condiments, including the Gray Sea Salt from the Ile de Re (with an accent over both the I and the e in Re. It's FRANCAISE!) Which means it's made in France so it's far better than any lowly American salt. In fact, on the label it reads "Harvested by hand, this all-natural gray sea salt has been gathered off of France's Atlantic coast since the 11th century. Mixed with a blend of five peppers..le blah le blah le blah." You can just picture peasants who's brief brutal lives usually ended by the time they were 30, happily harvesting the salt for their feudal lords who used it to buy China and other big things, because salt was so valuable.

Of course, now they hand harvest it for Williams-Sonoma, Inc. Much different.

Anyway, history lessons aside, this salt is very tasty - tangy, but with a delightful pepper blend, including pink peppercorns that have just the slightest sweetness to them. In addition to the five colors of Benneton pepper blend (white, green pink, and black!), there's also Paprika, Coriander, Thyme, and Rosemary. It's salty, but flavorful and it packs a big punch. I probably eat too much of it and now I'll get high blood pressure and die. But it's also crunchy, which adds a texture plus to anything you add it to. Put it in a salad and it just makes the greens snap and crackle.

I also got 25 year old Balsamic Vinegar, but I'll blog about that in a separate post.

Condiment Grrl