Condiment Grrl

Back in the Game!

2011-03-25T08:44:00.001-07:00

Hi all,

I am back in the game after a long hiatus. I had a crazy Fall and Winter, and then someone gave me Satan's condiment, Vegemite, and it put me off everything in the world!

More to come!

Condiment Grrl

Raisins - The Power of Good and Evil

2010-07-27T23:28:00.000-07:00

Oh, raisins. Dried grapes. Little bundles of sweet fruit energy. I should love you unconditionally, enjoy you scattered into a bowl of flax flakes with Vitamin D almond milk poured on top. Your health benefits are touted all over, even in the medical advice column in the Seattle Times, which recommends soaking raisins in gin to relieve arthritis pain.

But let me put my stake in the ground right here and proclaim that raisins DO NOT BELONG IN SWEETS! It's a crime against nature and Dionysus. They're chewy and have a slight musky bitterness that just ruins sweets. I still remember as a child my Aunt yelling at me for refusing to eat oatmeal with raisins in it. Just make me clean the bathroom floor with a toothbrush, it would be an easier punishment.

I can't stand raisins in any kind of desert or breakfast cereal - they make me gag! Stay away from my scone, eschew my eclair, clear out of my cookies, and protest my pie! I don't believe in raisins in my sweet things!

I don't mind a handful of raisins by themselves, but add them to something else and it's like the scene in "Gremlins" when the evil creatures jump out of the fluffy cute one.

And don't get me started on Oatmeal Raisin cookies. According to a website I'm making up in my mind right now, they were first created as a torture device during the Spanish Inquisition. And as soon as I create the webpage, you can tell everyone that you read about it on the Interweb.

Raisins in a cookie from a distance can look like chocolate chips. Don't let them fool you! I think that's part of my hatred - I've been fooled once too often into thinking I was about to enjoy a nice chocolate chip cookie, only to discover a treacherous Oatmeal Raisin cookie polluting my mouth.

You're Cute, but stay the hell away from my desserts and breakfast food

However, SAVORY is a horse of a different color. J'adore stewed raisins in a pork roast. One of my favorite dishes is a chicken dish they serve at Salvadore in Seattle - Involtini di Pollo. I used to say it was my own "Invitation to Chicken," until I married an Italian and learned Involtini means stuffed chicken breast. The chicken was flattened, breaded, sauteed, and rolled into parmesan, white wine, cream, garlic, and raisins. It is delicious and part of the joy is the unexpected sweetness of the raisin.

I'm not sure what it says about me that I only like something when it's unexpected, when it complements the darker elements. I'm sure a psychological profile could be written of me based on that alone. Until then, remember the Cardinal Rules of Raisins:

- Stay out of my sweets!

- You're okay alone!

- Stew in my savory!

Remember these and all will be right with the world.

Condiment Grrl

A Condiment Threat to our Homeland Security

2010-07-22T23:14:00.000-07:00

Well, people, I have been bad about blogging, it hasn't been for a dearth of condiments, but more for a dearth of new cravings. I have been in a condiment rut - only desiring the proven toppings for familiar dishes - Robert Rothschild caper, lemon, mustard sauce to go with my sausages. Soy sauce and vinegar on my rice. Lots and lots and lots of black truffle salt on my salads.

How I love black truffle salt. It makes every salad taste like an exotic found meal - a deep hint at what more there could be.

I've been working hard, hence my condiment rut. It's hard to open yourself to new experiences, when you have a short time to wind down and you often want to take the path of least resistance to the condiment that will relax me and allow my meal to achieve its maximum desirability.

However, now that summer's here, I am starting to open to new things, new flavors. My birthday was last weekend and some lovely foodie friends gifted me with a lucious looking jar of Artichoke and Seville Orange Chutney. Mmmmm....so evocative, so promising.

As I was at my mother's to visit Baby Balsamic who is spending two weeks with Big Mama Salsa (aka my mother), I packed the jar in my bag to return to the frozen Northwest. This condiment just might lift me from my accessorizing doldrums.

I didn't count on Homeland Security. (No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!)

I was taking my bags through the x-ray machine, when an earnest young officer asked to go through my bag. Well, what am I going to say? He starts flinging my underwear and pink pajama bottoms all over the table, but then finds the offending jar - my NEW CHUTNEY!

"It's sealed. See, I never opened it." I don't know why I thought that would make a difference.

He looked sheepish and almost handed it back to me, then stopped. "I'm sorry. It's over the amount. We'll have to take it."

OOOOOHHHH NOOOOO! But what could I do? Those are the rules.

Years ago, I was traveling out of Israel after a friend's wedding. As you would expect, there were very very long security lines. A man was complaining bitterly to his wife, until a woman in front of him turned and said "Would you prefer there were a bomb on the plane?"

I'd rather they do all they need to do to keep me and all other travelers safe.

But, the memory of that lost condiment did drive me to the store to purchase a new jar of Madras Curry mustard for that exotic touch. Just the promise of it drove me out of my rut.

And as for the young security guard - he seemed quite sharp, but you have to hope that they're being sharp when real bad people try and get bad things through security.

Maybe he went home and consumed the my Artichoke and Seville Orange Chutney. Maybe it's mix of vegetables and savory flavor improved his health and the oranges sharpened his eyesight. Maybe the next day his improved senses were able to stop a bad guy at Security.

And all thanks to Condiments. Now I have to go work on a screenplay.

Condiment Grrl

A delightful Sauce page!

2010-02-24T19:38:00.000-08:00

Hi all,

Quick post - due to a nice comment from another foodie blogger - www.easy-french-food.com - I checked out the site and found a great page of easy french sauce recipes. As soon as I can get my mitts on some french dill, I will try the Dill sauce for fish. It looks delicious and I love the way the instructions are laid out.

Au Revoir!

CondimentGrrl

What came first the tartar sauce or the steak tartare?

2010-02-23T22:59:00.000-08:00

Probably the steak tartare, according to the source of all knowledge, wikipedia. Steak tartare originated in the early 1400s because the cattle the mongolians were eating was too tough, so they had to chop it up.

Now, I have a slightly evil confession. Or maybe it's just a "devil may care" confession - I LOVE steak tartare. As a child, I used to eat raw hamburger covered in salt. Then one day, someone told me I would love steak tartare. But by the time I was an adult and could afford to take myself to restaurants that serve it, mad cow had swept the nation and people were strangely (really what's so harmful about eating raw cow raised in horrible conditions fed the diseased brains of other cows? I'm FINE!) nervous about raw beef consumption.

I did have it once, years ago, made by a friend who is a fine, fine chef. He purchased free range happy organic vegan raw foodie yoga cow meat to make his own. Such a delicious flavor - but I think the thing I like most is that there's lot of spices and things and CONDIMENTS that go into a successful tartare.

Which has nothing to do with tartar sauce, which, according to The Straight Dope is:

"Tartar sauce, or as the French refer to it, sauce tartare, consists of mayonnaise, mustard, chives, chopped gherkins, and tarragon, according to C. Owen's "Choice Cooking," circa 1889. In French, it is loosely translated as 'rough,' as the Tartars were considered rough, violent, and savage. It is commonly served with fish. Yum yum."

It's such a hodge-podge of a sauce (and the inclusion of the gherkin also qualifies it as a "vegetable" as much as ketchup). Mayo and pickles and green things and vinegar. The thing is, I don't like it that much.

Wait, scratch that.

I do like it, but it's not at the top of my ranking. When I walk into one of those delicious frites shops that dole out about a billion kinds of dipping sauce for your double deep fried potatoes (why, god, why did the Frite shop in Seattle have to close?), tartar sauce is usually included, but only as an accompaniment to ketchup. It's odd - I like mayonnaise, I like pickles, I LOVE vinegar, but tartar sauce is almost too much for me, unless I dilute it with ketchup's sweet kiss. Am I too genteel a condimentgrrl to enjoy a "rough" condiment?

Although, if you think about what the sauce turns into when you add ketchup to tartare sauce - thousand island sauce - it begins to make sense. It's a "rough" version of my childhood comfort snack - red wine vinegar, ketchup, and mayonnaise. It's a distant echo of childhood, but not *quite* the thing I want.

In regards to seafood - not crazy about it with fish. It's too heavy for fish. I much prefer malt vinegar with my fish and chips. I don't have any tartar sauce in my collection. It's just not the first thing I reach for.

If I could, however, I would reach for steak tartare, even though it is so so so wrong...

Condiment Grrl

Condiment FAIL

2010-02-17T23:24:00.001-08:00

A few weeks ago, I had the distinct UNpleasure of experiencing Fritos Jalapeno Cheddar dip. It was part of my Condiment Grrl experience I performed as part of Annex Theatre's Spin the Bottle. I chose a selection of condiments and things you put condiments on and had the audience randomly pick condiments to put on the things in my picnic basket of fun (soy corndogs, crackers, Haagendaaz chocolate ice cream, Jimmy John's beef sticks (delicious with caramel sauce!)). More on this entire event later.

I ended up having to consume the Frito's dip on a Sun Chip. This dip is the color of laminate. It is the consistency of dinosaur mucus. It has a fake little "yee haw I was once a jalapeno, but now I'm a chemical paste" kick. The dip winds itself around your tongue like a boa constrictor transformed into silly putty ready to strangle you with MSG. Yes, it contains the demon MSG.

There are no redeeming features about this dip. If my refridgerator was empty of all condiments, completely barren, EXCEPT for the Fritos, I would make my way to the Burger King and forage in the dumpster bins for half-used ketchup packets. That's how bad it is. Never consume it.

Eschew it at all costs, for the love of all that is holy.

Which brings me to the picture montage at the top of this post. I was unlucky enough to sit through an episode of The Bachelor, which is the fakest, cheesiest show ever in the history of the world. The current bachelor says the MOST inane things to a series of chemically enhanced females like "it's like it's getting real with you, with your values, and you're so hot, but deep and I see myself falling into your eyes and...blah blah blah." And the girls chirp back lines like "wow, I'm really falling for this guy, but I'm scared because there's all these other women here (the whole point of the show, MORON) and my heart is tender, but Jake can just fly me up to the sky and I came here because I wanted to get married and raise children who could see their mother looking desparate along with 24 other women who Daddy also made out with.."

And this guy has the personality of Frito's Jalapeno Cheese dip. There's a chemical paste replacing real taste and we're all worth more than that. Even the desperate girls who go on The Bachelor. Ladies, hie thee to a market and get some homemade salsa. It will have more nutritional value.

Condiment Grrl

Truffle Honey, oh, Truffle Honey

2010-02-15T20:54:00.001-08:00

If condiments were people, I would turn truffle honey into a doe-eyed young man with large light brown eyes, longish hair the color of summer oak, a smile that could melt the frozen heart of Ann Coulter, two dimples shining on either side of delicious lips. My Truffle Honey would be dressed in Renaissance-Faire type clothes - leather pants, puffy pirate-like shirt. You know, the type of clothing that could turn the Elephant Man into liquid sex.

On parchment, I would write truffle honey a note:

"Dear Truffle Honey, do you love me? Check yes or no. Yours forever."

Man, this condiment is the FULL PACKAGE - savory, yet sweet with the consistency of, well, honey. These days, most condiments are trying to have it all and be sweet and savory at the same time. Some succeed. Some fail.

Honey already has it's beautiful color going for it. When you add the truffle in, all you see are a few tantalizing slivers of dark mushroom floating in it. I know that doesn't sound appetizing, but the flavor is so delicate and surprising. On first taste, you think "well, I don't really taste the truffle," but then BANG, there's the truffle taste racing in for the finish. It's surprising. And I still can't find words to describe the truffle taste, given that I normally hate mushrooms. It's rich and musky. It's strong. It tastes like a large forest after a long, cleansing rainstorm.

My one criticism is, just like the pretty young man dressed for a Faire, I'm not sure where to take the honey. I'm at a bit of a loss as to what to put it on or to mix it with. I'm very protective of it and I don't want to waste it yet. I have yet to try it in the Balsamic dressing I adore so much. Perhaps, that is my next step. I guess I've just been enjoying keeping my truffle honey to myself. Dipping my pinky in for a taste here and there. I sigh and close my eyes, reveling in its strange flavor.

The brand I have - a Christmas present, of course - is Italian. Mielo eon Tartufo Bianco. And it's all written in fancy script on a teeny, tiny little jar made by a company called Tartuflanghe. Check out their website for other delicious products made with truffle (a creamy parmesan reggiano with truffle in particular is very tempting). You need lots of Euro.

If anyone has any suggestions please let me know. For now, I will keep my handsome young truffle honey all to myself....

Condiment Grrl

Truffle Salt heralds a return!

2009-11-08T19:56:00.000-08:00

Hey all,

Sorry I took the summer off - I got carried away with trips to California and cruises to Alaska.

It was my first time on a cruise ship and I was NOT impressed by the food. And don't get me started on the condiments. It was really about quantity, not about dipping sauce. But I do like laying around a boat for a week. And Baby Balsamic made quite a mess of herself with one of the finest condiments in the history of indulgent delights - hot fudge sauce. And we saw a bear. And bear poop - which just might be a condiment to SOME species somewhere.

Anyway, I belong to a delightful foodie group - Memento dining club! Here's our deal - there are six couples (actually 5 couples and 1 delightful woman with enough looks and cooking skills for 2!) We meet up about every 2 months for a night of gastronomic excess - 2 appetizers, 1 salad, 2 entrees, 1 dessert. The person making the dessert course comes up with their dessert and tells the people making entree 2. The person making entree 2 comes up with something that would precede the dessert well, then tells the person making entree 1 what entree 2 is. They do not tell what dessert is going to be. So, you only know what's coming after you, not what's coming before you. And we have themes - asparagus, farmer's market, tropical rainbow, etc.

We've had some amazing dinners. Some highlights that I will blog about in the future:

- cured lemon peel preserve - an amazing salad garnish
- bacon infused old fashioned - nothing takes the sting off whiskey like bacon fat!
- creme fraiche - apply to the thigh via the mouth. Totally worth the tight pants the next day!

However, at our last dinner, we were served a rich pasta dish that had a flavor I hadn't experienced before. It was musky and sophisticated. Salty, but with a range of savory flavor.

Truffle salt. So intense. So different. Putting it on eggs or pasta or a salad is like looking meeting up with an old dear friend and discovering that they also understand the complete mystery of the night skies, that they've seen the seven wonders of the world, peeked under Nefertiti's mask. The truffle flavor has so much depth and complexity and history. It's hard to explain that it tastes old, but it's not old like spoiled or musty. It sparks memories. It's the fourth dimension.

Of course, truffles are incredibly expensive. They were selling them at my favorite high-end market - Metropolitan Market - for $159 a pound. The jar of truffle salt I bought for Mr. Mustard cost about $20. But man, it was worth draining Baby Balsamic's college fund for this!

The brand I've been using is Casina Rossi Truffle & Salt. Their website is down, which allowed me to find a new website name I adore - www.thefrenchybee.com.

Truffle salt is a great way to experience the truffle flavor combined with an everyday flavor (salt).

I highly recommend it. Next time I take a cruise, I want it to be one of those luxury ones where they have it on all the tables. Yum.

Condiment Grrl

Finally - Bacon done right in a Product!

2009-07-14T22:33:00.000-07:00

Regular readers of my column will recall that I have reviewed and subsequently eschewed both Bacon Salt and Baconnaise. They are bad, chemically infused imitations of the truth, the bacon salt especially.

I then formally declared far and wide, to all those who would listen to my ramblings, that bacon is ONLY good in its original form. You cannot transform it into another substance. And so it was said and the people all obeyed me as they are wont to do.

BUT! I have been proven wrong in the form of Mo's Bacon Bar -- a product of a newish chocolate company - Vosges Haut Chocolate.

This is a tiny little picture, I know, but the real box is a thing of beauty. And the chocolate, well it worked! I was a bit dubious, given that the main ingredients on the box are listed as:

applewood smoked bacon
alderwood smoked salt (although I am recent convert to the salt + chocolate combo)
deep milk chocolate (not my usual favorite, but they have just come out with a dark chocolate bacon bar! Let the world rejoice!)

But it found just the right balance -- the bacon actually hit your taste buds first, then, unexpectedly blossomed into chocolate. And, rather than seeming out of place, it was like a sense of deja vu, "oh there you are bacon and chocolate combination. I've always known about you in my heart of hearts."

Now, I could engage in a hearty round of mea culpa, but, upon careful inspection of the chocolate (the things I do for you people!), I find that I am actually seeing little bits of bacon embedded in the chocolate, so I am not wrong. Bacon is best in its original form and yummy when intertwined with chocolate.

But let me leave you with the words of the founder of Vosges Chocolate, who almost seems like a Colette for food. Her goal is to "Travel the World through Chocolate in a mission to create a sustainable, luxury chocolate experience, to bring about awareness of indigenous cultures through the exploration of spices, herbs, roots, flowers, fruits, nuts, and the obscure."

And, here's how she (or a very clever copy-writer who is clearly my twin) describes this bar (I do like that she's a bit of a food whore like me):

"Breathe…engage your five senses, close your eyes and inhale deeply. Be in the present moment, notice the color of the chocolate, the glossy shine. Rub your thumb over the chocolate bar to release the aromas of smoked applewood bacon flirting with deep milk chocolate. Snap off just a tiny piece and place it in your mouth, let the lust of salt and sweet coat your tongue. "

I almost want to tell her to get a room, but I know where she's coming from. Enjoy!

Oh for heaven's sake, everyone knows that Hollandaise isn't Dutch!

2009-07-07T23:14:00.000-07:00

A friend pointed me to an article on CNN about the origins of some condiments. It's a little bit interesting, but it's just your basic -- "and then they had a dude ranch and then they made ranch dressing." It's pretty light -- no backstory on the combining of the ingredients, the subsequent tastings, the discovery of what the condiment worked with and didn't work with...and so on..

Anyway, I think, and I'm not bragging kind of, that my post on the origin of Norman Bishop Dill Garlic mustard is far more informative. And it's totally 100% true!

The Pimento -- the Quiet Friend Who Wears Glasses

2009-05-22T20:37:00.000-07:00

Okay, y'all, I've been hanging onto an empty jar for awhile, waiting for some time to crop up to blog about this MOST AMAZING OLIVE. And now that I've downloaded the new Green Day, I feel the time is write to reveal that I'm leaving all my other Olive relationships for this one --

Ybarra Aceitunas Manzanilla verdes OR A green olive stuffed with Pimento.

Now, before you say, "Oh, Condiment Grrl, COME ON, those olives are everywhere. And salty and BORING." That's what I said to when I first viewed the jar, introduced to me by Mr. Mustard (and it was introduced to him by a good friend, another foodie, as available at the amazing Big John's PFI (Pacific Food Imports) in SODO). But, then the jar was opened and I tasted the olive.

OH MY GOODNESS!

It was kind of like in those ridiculous Chick movies where there's the silent friend with glasses who never says anything, but who swirls in in divine purple chiffon with no glasses (because glasses are ugly, right?) and leaves everyone gasping for air with his/her attractiveness, general desirabilty, and oddly detailed knowledge about erogenous zones.

These olives take the glasses off the misunderstood pimento. Until you've tasted these olives, you haven't really tasted pimentos. Honestly, I don't think I ever really understood what a real pimento tasted like before because most pimento stuffed olives are so so so so salty.

Not these, there's this wonderful rich flavor -- I can't really describe it and do it justice -- but, it's kind of peppery, kind of musky, and wonderful that imbues the olives. They're not overwhelmed with sodium. They exist in their own pimento-stuffed olive world -- glorious, green, red and perfect.

Anyway, here's a picture of a related jar. I couldn't find an exact one on the web:

Take out the picture of the garlic and mentally put in a lovely red pimento, looking oddly like a pair of very kissable lips, with or without glasses.

Enjoy!

Artichoke Mousse -- one item too many

2009-03-29T22:30:00.000-07:00

I carry a heavy load; although, I like to think I embrace zen philosophy, in reality there are too many "things" I feel I need: warm socks, thin socks, warm pants, thin leggings, a book to read, another book to read in case I finish the first book, another book in case I don't like or get bored with one of the other books, a brown sweater, a black sweater, boots, tennis shoes and sandals. You name it, I feel I need it.

And, occasionally, a glass jar or two is lodged in my suitcase. Perhaps I am going to a desolate land without decent condiments (you know who you are) and I need to bring a spice or mustard or two to keep my spirits up. Perhaps, I discovered a new thing that I must bring home to take up yet more space in my groaning refridgerator door.

I was just down in California caring for an extremely cranky and doped up Big Mama Salsa post-shoulder surgery and I had to hie myself to the nice market near her house on several occasions. They have an okay condiment collection -- I discovered the Napa Valley line there, which I adore -- but they are a small space that serves a certain area of Oakland and for some reason, they'd prefer to have more "food." Whatever.

Anyway, on one of those missions of mercy, I strode down the condiment aisle to see what's what and saw a coy little jar winking at me from the shelf. It had little round sides and an intriguing condiment name: Artichoke Mousse. Mmmm...the tangy unique flavor of the artichoke enmeshed in a cream base. Very intriguing. And not only that, the little hussy was on sale!

I tucked the jar in my bag and headed home. And after Big Mama Salsa had thrown her plate of food at me for the umpteenth time and demanded more percocet, I opened the jar to see if it could sweep me from the house of recovery and into a place with rainbow ponies and no weak shoulders or slippery stairs or stubborn mothers who refuse to move their bedrooms down to the first floor.

Sadly, there were no rainbow ponies awaiting the bottom of the spoon. It was a very faint artichoke flavor with a bland cream sauce. I expected artichoke mousse to bring home some of her good friends: lemon, vinegar, sesame, SOMETHING. But it was sadly bland and I couldn't help but regret the Weight Watchers points wasted on this bland concoction.

Which is a travesty because condiments should NEVER make us feel we have unwillingly ingested fat. We should delight in the oil or the cream or the butter, not feel ashamed.

There was no space in my bag for the artichoke mousse. Nor is there space in this blog for the name of the artichoke mousse. It is a mystery best left unspoken.

Condiment Grrl

As It Says in the Good Book...

2009-03-12T22:58:00.001-07:00

of something or other, as quoted to me by an old friend who's a Unitarian Minister, in response to my bacon salt posting:

"In my house we use salt as a gentle memory of bacon's greater promise..."

Now, here's a religion that I could BEE-LIEEVVE in. Maybe I already do...

A Treatise on Bacon Salt

2009-03-11T23:03:00.000-07:00

As I sit here at my computer (obviously), listening to a variety of tunes on Random Play (Fleetwood Mac, then Green Day, then Shirley Temple. Awesome) after spending entirely too long on Facebook (or Crackbook), I am aware of the transient nature of technology and community and networking and music. We all flow apart, then sometimes find each other again, at different places in life, but still connecting on the same old jokes and shared memories. Then sometimes you start to build something new, some new strange connection that initially makes no sense, but in your new life, with your new hair and your new love of mushrooms and possible acceptance that everything Neil Diamond recorded wasn't total crap, it makes sense.

Sort of like Bacon Salt. "You have a friend request from Bacon Salt."

On first take, it makes no sense. Bacon is meat and salt is a condiment. Does not compute. They are two different substances. They serve two different purposes. But then you stop and think about the experience of eating bacon. Of course, there's the delicious sizzling smell, the grease squirt as you bite into a perfectly cooked piece, the feel of the slice in your hand (only heathens and lovers of zuchini bread cut their bacon with a knife and fork), and the flavor of the bacon sliding down your throat, the tingling salt and nitrates.

Stop! Salt?

Hmmm...maybe this does make sense. Bacon is very salty due to all the preservatives and smoking and things they do to it to turn it from pig into bacon (I just re-read "Little House in the Big Woods" and I know all about this process now.) So...what is bacon flavor? Is it the actual meat or is it the chemicals that go into the processing of the meat? What came first -- the meat or the chemicals (or condiments) that create the bacon?

Sometimes I like bacon bits on my salad. I always like salt. What if the two were combined? Would I get the succulent crackling sensation or would I get more of a chemical burning of my taste buds?

So, I put bacon salt on my salad. And I am sad to report that I found that I missed the meat. The chemical burning won out. It was just too...too...unnatural. The flavor was too removed from the actual flavor of the food. I like bacon flavor, but I also need the fat, the grease, the slice in my hand to fully enjoy the experience. I'll just have my salt separately.

I am ignoring the Friend Request from Bacon Salt.

What's this? A Friend Request from Baconnaise? Hmm...I shall have to explore

I'm back! With a delicious tapenade in tow...

2009-01-21T21:43:00.000-08:00

I return now that I've recovered from the thrill of Obama's election and the fear that something would happen to him prior to Inauguration. Now it's over!

It's a bright new condiment-filled day!

And there's one I've been meaning to write about for a very long time, by one of my new favorite brands, Made in Napa Valley -- purveyor of the savory treat.

Seriously, their website is almost akin to voodoo doughnuts in making me drool -- things like Country Dijon With Merlot & Shallots (I sense a deep affection for the shallots! Also, this was a tad disappointing), and Sun-Dried Tomato Tapenade with with Balsamic and Garlic (Yummy!). They just get the mixes and the flavors and the goodnesses right (like Obama!).

This is a sweetish tapenade with a delicious tangy note to it, but what keeps me coming back for more is the texture -- not too lumpy, not too smooth. You can pile it on your plate next to a piece of chicken, or slavish it on a cracker on top of blue cheese -- that is the best!

Seriously -- a really good blue cheese, a deep red wine, and Fig & Roasted Shallot Tapenade and it's like you don't need love, or laughter, or friends, you have it all built on top of a gluten-free cracker (let us not forget my crazy German naturopath).

I actually think it would be super good on scrambled eggs as well but I literally just thought of it (Condiment Grrl in Action!) and now I think I will have scrambled eggs tomorrow...

I've also tried their tomato tapenades, tomato vodka mustard, and orange balsamic mustard -- all very yummy, unique, and in this tree-hugging era -- all-natural.

I know times are tough, but don't we all deserve to put a little something special on our eggs? And if you try the Fig & Roasted Shallot Tapenade, you also get a dose of fruit and vegetables, right?

And yes, ketchup is a vegetable. So was Ronald Reagan, let's move on...it's a new era!

Condiment Grrl

Vice Presidential Condiments

2008-11-02T20:38:00.000-08:00

It's been an exciting two months. We are in the middle of the most historic election of my lifetime and I have managed to get my nose out of the mustard jar and into the action. Far too much. I should join a group called "Pollsters Anonymous," because I'm so addicted to studying all the news related to the election.

So, I bet you're thinking, "but how do you work in condiments into the election girl? How?" And I say to you, it's so easy:

Vice Presidential candidates are the condiments for the Presidential Candidates. They are the assist that makes the presidential main dish shimmer and glow or sink it like a heavy mole sauce on a fluffy salmon fillet.

First up, Joe Biden. Or as Baby Balsamic calls him, "OBiden." Barack Obama's scapping long-time Senator and Vice Presidential candidate from Delaware is one of the working class guys. The type who are used to ordering the usual fried liver and onions (yum!) from their favorite greasy spoon. The guy who liberally shakes salt over Aunt Millie's experimental Sweet Potato/Zuchini roast and keeps a big shit eating grin on his face as he eats it.

Honestly, he's the guy who could be a meal on his own.

And to drive that point home, for me his condiment identification is chutney. I know it's a "furrin'" dish, but it contains apples and onions and carrots and all kinds of filling ingredients in a think, sweet and spicy sauce. Good on cheddar cheese and elitist gorgonzola pork rind pastries. Delicioous with the very substantial, complex yet straightforward main dish that is Obama, but it could easily be a meal on its own.

Now, Sarah Palin. Sigh. She likes to sell herself as superior for being from a small town as opposed to us big city elitists who clearly aren't moral or don't love their children as much or...(I could go on forever here. It's a very sore point.), but when you dig a little deeper, you discover something insubstantial that leaves a bad aftertaste in your mouth.

She reminds me of a standard table condiment you would get put in front of you at Applebee's or Cracker Barrel. Supposed good, down home country fare, but it's really run by some massive corporation that's doing all it can to replace mashed potatoes with mashed potato-like product and run the old single proprietor cafe out of business.

She's a bottle of "Applebee's Own Catsup" -- old tyme spelling to evoke the Americana nostalgia. You open the lid and it smells just a little too sweet. You pour it on your plate and it makes your french fries bitter and acrid and your processed meat loaf product dissolve into a grainy paste. It's overly sweet, with a nasty afterkick. Then you read the ingredient list and you see all the very bad things we're told not to eat: partially hydrogenated soybean oil, high-fructose corn syrup, and a million chemicals that we don't recognize. And sadly, it only makes the overcooked turkey that is John McCain tougher and more difficult to swallow.

It cannot in any way shape or form be a meal on its own.

Clearly, I, Condiment Grrl, am biased, but it's my right. And while I would love it and shower you with virtual Norman Bishop Garlic Dill mustard if you voted for Barack Obama, I really, truly believe that the most important thing you can do is get and and VOTE for whoever. Seriously, it's your right. Do it!

And God Bless America and all the Condiments that make it great.

Condiment Grrl

Feeling Blue and Plain...

2008-08-20T22:22:00.001-07:00

Sorry for no blog posts. I just haven't found anything to crow about lately. No new sauce or dip that enriched my life in a new and special way. I did re-discover Soy Vay lately for a lovely marinated flank steak recipe.

Recipe:

Get some flank steak
Slice it thinly
Put in a tightly fitting container with lots of Soy Vay
Let it marinate for 4 - 24 hours
Cook on a BBQ
Delicious, tasty cow flesh with yummy savory spice

However, it is the easy way out. As a child, I watched my mother prepare this old faithful by chopping up tons of garlic and ginger, then layering thinly sliced flank steak, ginger, garlic, and Teriyaki sauce into a jar until it was a tightly packed glass vessel of raw yumminess.

I always wanted to drink the remains after the meat had been removed for cooking, but, of course, even I didn't do it. Raw meat juice BAD. Of course, I eat sushi, but that's fish and for some reason it's different. I guess they haven't found mad fish disease yet.

Which reminds me of an old joke from the heyday of mad cow:

Two cows are standing in the field:

Cow 1: This mad cow thing is really freaking me out.
Cow 2: Yeah, good thing I'm a chicken.

See? I didn't even get that right. Sigh. I need to order some Norman Biship Garlic Dill mustard in bulk.

Condiment Grrl

A Condiment Synchronicity at "Spin the Bottle"

2008-08-06T19:57:00.000-07:00

So, I'm quite a flexible person. Beyond the Yoga and Pilates, I also have been known to perform. And people have been telling me, "Condiment Grrl, your stunning beauty and your witty way must be on the stage! Now!" Okay, maybe they didn't phrase it quite that way, but you get the point.

So acceeding to their wishes and my own lust for fame, last Friday night, I performed in a late night cabaret with the estimable Annex Theatre, Spin The Bottle. This is a fabulous cabaret that has been going on for years and years, always hosted by the wonderfully dry Bruce Hall. You can see everything and anything there -- I myself have seen The McDonaldLand Theater company, dirty fun smut from Kerri Healy, sublime sexy shadow puppetry from Scot Augustson, and all kinds of cool things.

Of course you are all thinking, "But Condiment Grrl, how could you possibly be involved in something that might be R-rated!" And I say to you that my readings, except for my treatise on Savory flavored Love Toys, were all ready for good family fun.

While I was waiting in the lounge with the other performers, I watched a lovely young woman loading condiment bottles with their matching colored condiments -- ketchup, mustard, mayo. Then I watched her take off all her clothes and paint blue stars on her breasts. As it turned out, without any pre-planning by the Artistic Director, Bret Fetzer, of the event, they were also showing condiment related burlesque!

The Moon was Clearly in Mustard.

Sadly, I had to leave at intermission and missed the act which involved a young woman in a secretary's outfit attempting to put condiments on her lunch, only to spray herself "accidentally" causing her to constantly remove one layer of clothing after another. It sounds delightful and I shall have to go and look out for more from these young women -- Bianca Cabrerra and Jenna Bean Veatch. Clearly, they are destined for great success.

Maybe, in fact, we should do a variety show devoted entirely to condiments.

It's a thought. And clearly, the world awaits!

Condiment Grrl

The elusive Potsticker dipping sauce

2008-07-30T22:30:00.000-07:00

Mr. Mustard decided to prepare pot stickers (or Jiaozi) for dinner tonight. Mmmmm. Pot stickers. They were all I craved when I was pregnant with Baby Balsamic, so much so that I was privately, hormonally convinced she would come into this world in a doughy wrapper. And now that I know the Chinese word for potsticker is Jiaozi, I'm depressed that I didn't name Baby Balsamic that even though she's pretty much 100% European mutt.

So, normally when you get those Ling Ling pot stickers, they come with a little packet of dipping sauce that is MSG-yy yummy. But never enough; I run out after two pot stickers. But Mr. Mustard, ever penny wise, decided to buy a giant bag from Trader Joes.

No dipping sauce!

But he knows I can whip something up -- he did marry me -- so he asks what we put into the sauce. And I reply "soy sauce, rice vinegar, a bit of brown sugar, and sesame oil." We sit down to eat and I've had one potsticker before I'm up with my bowl of sauce and back in the kitchen, to just add a touch more sweetness: a little more rice vinegar, a little more sugar. He's shouting after me, "What? What do you need? What are you doing?"

I bring my doctored bowl back in and start again to eat. But something is still missing. I'm up again and in the kitchen. This time, I add a touch more rice vinegar and a tad more sesame oil. But the sauce is still to salty.

It was good, but I never got it just right so that when that pillow of pot sticker bursts in my mouth, my mouth quivers with the perfect balance of salty, sweet, and doughy.

It's elusive, this pot sticker sauce. Very elusive. I must do more research. I'll start with the Ling Ling recipe here. Let's see if I can replicate.

Condiment Grrl

The next post is a new one...

2008-07-29T23:14:00.001-07:00

I just took forever to compose it because I got busy....

50 ways to clean your Refridgerator...

2008-06-13T20:20:00.000-07:00

Even I have a breaking point. As you all remember from my very first post back in May of 2006, I have far too many condiments in my fridge. And sadly, there are too many condiments that I have opened up, tried, only to discover that I only wanted one date with it.

You know the score, there you are, dewy eyed, holding hands with a fresh new jar of okra relish. You project onto it all kinds of happy dreams, "Maybe this is the one that will finally make me like tofu." You show the jar into your kitchen, soft ambient lighting, mood music like The Wiggles or Tori Amos or Tori Amos covering the songs of The Wiggles or vice versa playing in the background, and you squeeze the lid of the jar gently, opening it with a soft 'pop.'

You lift the jar to your nose, sniff, and, wait, what is this? A slightly displeasing smell -- perhaps a bit too much stearic acid or you discover the relish has, horrors, roasted red bellpepper in it. You soldier on, maybe when you get the relish out of the jar, it will all change. You take a spoon and softly insert it into the greenness. As you bring it to your mouth, your tastebuds quiver in anticipation, perhaps your about to expand your aural horizons. Then the mixture hits the tongue and wait a minute, this didn't get better, and what is this condiment, and where's the lid, and why did I buy the jar in the first place, why can't it be the beginning of the evening all over again when I first walked into the store with such high hopes and happy dreams for a nice dinner?

But you've invested a ridiculous amount (according to stingy Mr. Mustard), $8.95, into this condiment and you can't just chuck it. So you put it in the fridge and hope. You hope that one day you will be preparing sweetbreads and need just one..more...thing to make it perfect. And maybe that okra relish will be it. Hey, it happened with the Blackberry Chipotle marinade.

But, and if there's one bit of wisdom I could impart to future generations, its that most condiments don't change. What you open is what you get.

I am a notorious packrat -- one of my anthropology professors said that there are two types of people in the world "hoarders" and "sorters" -- so I can't get rid of anything easily. There comes a tipping point in every refridgerator cycle and you must get rid of the old to make way for the new.

Thusly, I cleaned out my fridge and behold the condiments being sent to the large pantry in the sky:

Actually, I really did love the Olive Relish, it was just that it was time to go. "I guess it's over, time to call it a daaayaayaaa!!! Too much, too little too late to try again with yoooooooo"

Big Daddy Condiment always brings over relish when he visits so we just had TOO MUCH!!!

I will never speak again of the Peach Salsa. It was an abomination. Let this be a warning to you other condiment lovers out there...

Condiment Grrl

P.S. All the Olive Oil, vinegar bottles behind the row of condiments are not being thrown away. We just have no clear surfaces in the kitchen! Oops!

A fantastic discovery that's Atkinsy, but not too douchey

2008-06-12T21:58:00.000-07:00

Welcome back everyone! I have finally taken up arms against a sea of condiments and resumed my mission of bringing good condiment knowledge to all!

I have experienced a range of new deliciousness in the two months since I blogged and I will share it all with you. Let us just say, for now, that the award for the very best name of a condiment company is bestowed upon The Girl and The Fig -- a gourmet place in the land of wine, decadence, and marijuana, medical or otherwise - Sonoma.

But first! An unlikely discovery in the produce section: Sunkist Almond Accents. Now many of you have heard of my travails with my crazy German naturopath who has made gluten verboten. However, I do love a texturey salad. The burst of fat from a slice of salami, the eager co-mingling of tomato juices and balsamic vinegar, the crunch of the rib of a ripe leaf of Romaine lettuce, and, bien sur, the crunch of a well-made (read: oily) crouton. Mmmmm...croutons. I do love them especially when they're large, dark and toasty, like I like my chocolate sundaes (what did you think I was going to say?).

But, if I have croutons too often, it can cause me some digestive upset. Now, you may say, "Well, just don't have salads that often!"

This is not to be.

Salads, how shall I put this, are my life. Literally, and I am not exaggerating (I never do that!), salad has been my favorite food since I can remember. And, it turns out, that salad is a beauty treatment. Really, I was reading on some health-food website about the power of eating salad in terms of preventing aging. No one would ever guess that I am 67 years old.

Really, I eat salad usually once, and many times twice a day. It is the wind beneath my wings.

So, imagine my joy when I found Sunkist Almond Accents -- Roasted Garlic Caesar Flavored Sliced Almonds. They're crunchy, cheesy, and garlicky and they make me not miss croutons at all and my German naturopath can rest easy knowing that I am (mostly) following her strict diet.

Except when I'm not. I mean, c'mon, the lady told me that blended banana with ice and melon is "bettear zen schocolat!"

But I like the almonds.

Condiment Grrl

The Evil Temptation of Foie Gras

2008-03-11T22:35:00.000-07:00

Yes, it's true. I am pure evil. I am evil incarnate. I should kick orphaned puppies as I pass them in the street on my way to the Republican rally.

My name is Condiment Grrl and I LOVE Foie Gras.

For those of you who don't know, Foie Gras, read up on it on Wikipedia, here. It's the diseased, engorged liver of a goose or duck. See? Evil.

But oh so good.

I remember distinctly the first time I had Foie Gras with a foodie friend who I shall ever after refer to as Trapeze Girl, because that's what she used to do. We were in a restaurant in San Francisco that was called something like Woodland, under an overpass toward the Mission district. I took a bite of a dish that was placed in front of us, unsure of its contents, but knowing it was something meaty with a savory sauce. And it was the most delicious, buttery meaty thing I had ever had. It's like they took all the beautiful songs about fat that have ever been written and distilled only the purest, sweetest notes.

I heart it.

How did we even order it since the very idea of it would have repulsed me? Did a fallen angel whisper it in my ear on his way to his Cannibals Anonymous meeting?

I only let myself have Foie Gras once or twice a year because I do have the tiniest shred of a Good Angel still sitting on my shoulder saying "Condiment Grrrrrlllll...think of the Geesies and Duckies...."

And that's what I was doing when I watched Anthony Bourdain investigate a Foie Gras producer in the Hudson Valley for his ironic Holiday special. He, too, had the same conflict that I had about the rumored horribleness of life for the Geese involved. He went to a producer called Dartagnan and toured the farm. The Geese did look moderately happy in their shelter. And the woman who owned the premises emphasized that happier Geese make better Foie Gras, so they really do try and make these Geesies short life happy. Not only that, but the force feeding doesn't hurt them; it only lasts a minute and, they have separate throats for food and air, so it doesn't choke them. Then a veteranarian came on and said that the Geese for Dartagnan probably have happier lives than Geese in the wild who are probably devoured by starving Orphan Puppies being fattened up for a Republican fundraiser.

So, you see, the moral of this story is that good begats good. And Foie Gras rules. And I really really really want to try the French Kisses from the Dartagnan website; what's not to love about prunes marinated with French Brandy then stuffed with Foie Gras mousse?

OK, I'm drooling on my keyboard.

Yes, I'm evil.

Condiment Grrl

The return of Condiment Grrl and the Fritessaus!

2008-03-09T22:21:00.000-07:00

First up, I must apologize for my blogging deliquency. My day job sent me away on a key mission overseas to the land of bounteous mayonnaise, marijuana and bicycles -- the Netherlands.

Please note, for those of you from said place of employment who may browse here, that I engaged in only two of the three national pasttimes listed above -- bicycles and mayonnaise. Although the mayonnaise (or fritessaus) is rich enough that it should be against the law.

I have a series of blog posts planned for this week, each of which explore a different condiment aspect of my trip abroad. But today I wanted to focus on the thing that added 4 pounds to my weight during my travels -- fritessaus.

Exhibit A (actually, the only exhibit so I don't know what you call that)

Of course, I barely took any photos of the sights, just lots of photos of the condiments. I should have been an important photojournalist, except for that whole I suck at photography thing. So, I was blown away by two things in this aisle at the Super de boer:

- The amazing variety of fritessauses

- The giantness of the fritessaus jugs. They're HUGE.

It's like, how much fritessaus can one nation go through? Every single meal I had there, it didn't matter what kind of restaurant, the waitress would place a bowl of french fries in the center of the table and next to it, a little pot of fritessaus.

And let me explain a little bit about fritessaus. At first taste, the creaminess and texture remind you of mayonnaise, but the flavor is richer, deeper. I couldn't tell you what made it different, what the flavor was, but I can say that it was like they took the best of what makes mayonnaise taste good and kicked it up a notch. It was so good, that even when I knew I was waiting for some yummy carpaccio (man, they love their raw meat over there) or some crispy kipfilet (chicken), I would find my hand buried in the fries, then swiping again and again through the fritessaus.

I know many of you are thinking, "Well, was her hand acting of its own accord?" And the answer my friends is "Yes." Maybe it was the blue skies, the canals, the cobblestones, but it was a hunger beyond reason that drew me to the fritessaus. And though it is my hands that commit the crime, my thighs are the innocent bystanders that pay the price.

Another interesting fact -- there are barely any overweight or fat people in Holland. Really, hardly any, even with the apparent consumption of jugs and jugs of fritesaus. A clue might be what I referenced in my first paragraph - bicycles. Lots and lots and lots of bicycles that people ride everywhere. And the walking through places like the photo below.

So, my thighs could get moving and help serve the time the hand caused with fritessaus consumption. And now, here's a photo of the city I was in, Eindhoven.

More later on the international condiment situation.

Condiment Grrl

Can this Marriage Survive?

2008-01-16T21:18:00.000-08:00

You know, everyone is always telling me I should also do restaurant reviews. Clearly, I love food and the right to fine dining should be enshrined in the Bill of Rights. However, I have a deep, dark secret (I know, I know, ANOTHER one) -- I'm kind of a picky eater. My mother swears that I was fine until I was three and then it all went to hell. It's probably part of what started my life-long love affair with condiments -- one of the few things I would eat was a mixture comprised of mayonnaise, ketchup, and red wine vinegar. I know I've blogged about it before and I'm too lazy to search back through my surprisingly extensive archives.

I would put that special dressing on everything - salad, carrots, liverwurst (Oh My God, that was the best and worst treat ever. I'm salivating).

Okay, but back to the idea of restaurant reviews. The picky eating thing has a bad effect on that. All these reviewers are like "And then we had the pickled quail eggs over Dover Sole stomach with a fricasee of sparrow nostrils." That just doesn't sound good to me. I like to get what I like to get. I wouldn't want to feel compelled to sample everything on the menu, especially if there was some nasty things on the menu. I don't care how high-brow your restaurant is, there are dishes on the menu that will always be nasty.

And those dishes usually contain zuchini and button mushrooms. Before I continue, I must note for you that that used to read "and all mushrooms," but in my later years, I discovered that I liked fancy expensive mushrooms (see some of my "switched at birth" posts). But I hate hate hate hate hate hate that demon zuchinni. I'm not even going to bother looking up the correct spelling.

I think it goes back to my organic Bay Area roots and the horrific proliference of zuchinnnii plants and that slime-of-the-earth output: zuchini bread. My stomach would clench in horror when some birkenstock beclad friend of my parents would flounce in the door and announce, "Hey I brought you some fresh-baked zuckini bread!" I still need special therapy.

Anyway, Mr. Mustard is Italian, half-Italian actually, but as a co-worker noted, "Even if you're only part Italian, you're all Italian." And it's been a sticking point in our relationship that I hate mushrooms, and zucchini and eggplant(!). But he's soldiered through the pain and suffering, occasionally resorting to what he resorted to last night: adding sliced mushrooms and yunchini to the top of his salad like a...like a...like a...condiment.

Look, I can get through dealing with those supposed foodstuffs as vegetables, but to turn them into CONDIMENTS?! In front of my face! That's adding insult to injury. I just don't know how I can go on. Sigh.

Condiment Grrl

A Simple beginning to 2008

2008-01-03T19:52:00.001-08:00

Greetings all and Happy New Year!

I am planning to do a round-up of the year in condiments, but I have been still recovering from all the crazy merry merry of the holiday season. Condiment and family overload (in a good way - Hi Mom!). And I just haven't had the energy to do my big wrap-up, but my new Zen calendar for 2008 prompted me through its gentle, meaningful sayings to perhaps start with something simple.

Which is perfect, because I've been meaning to blog about a simple thing; a simple solution to an old problem - more texture in salad. Say you're like me and have been verboten by your crazy German naturopath from eating wheat so "NO CROUTONS FOR YOU!!!" And you're putting together your yummy salad and longing for something crunchy, something tangy and tantalizing that will give your salad the proverbial "legs."

Experiment.

I had the dregs of an evil, evil bag of salt n' vinegar chips (a condiment and fat-lovers dream come true, but manufactured in hell). In an act of inspration, I poured the rest of the bag out over my salad and smashed the rest so they would disperse throughout my salad.

It was good, it was tangy, it was simple. And so we have my motto for 2008 - Good, Tangy, and Simple.

Happy New Year

Condiment Grrl

Another Day, Another Mustard

2007-12-09T22:46:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm back. I'd like to say that my blogging absence had to do with my horrible mistake about butter not being dairy, so I retreated into a monastic state to meditate on my relationship to each food element that makes up the foodstuffs that complete our lives. To really think about butter, and pure cane sugar, and each egg, and blah blah blah.

Truth is, I got sick and ended up spending too much time on the couch watching Season One of Project Runway. And I don't care what anyone says, I have to like a contestant named Wendy Pepper.

Tonight, I present to you my thorough and bias-free judging process for a new mustard. Also, let me add that this mustard is actually not new to me. I've tried it before, but I think it was the wrong phase of the moon or something, because I barely noticed it.

We're having Kurabata Ham for dinner and the stove is broken and I was feeling destitute because I couldn't glaze the ham with a savory-sweet mustard/honey concoction. So, I slathered over my true feelings with mustard. Stonewall Kitchen Maine Maple Champagne Mustard to be exact. I was cranky about only having a mustard. I figured I would need to add things to it for the exact taste combination I was craving (Maple Syrup and Apple Cider Vinegar). I opened the jar and dipped my finger in, put it in my mouth to figure out combinatiosn, etc. and was delighted to find the exact taste that I was actually looking for. I capped the jar and put it on the dinner table as is.

It went quite well with the ham. I put a pile on my plate, then loaded up Baby Balsamic. She initially wanted ketchup, but I talked her into the specialty mustard because it is really sweet. Then I had a little battle in my head because it's so expensive and ketchup is cheaper, but we get Heinz ketchup (we don't want the terrorists to win!) and it has all those fructose corn syrup chemical ingredients and this mustard has only wholesome ingredients like Maine Maple Syrup, clearly collected by a fresh apple-cheeked girl who only eats organic vegan tofu. So, Baby Balsamic had two platefuls of the more expensive alternative (after licking salad dressing off another plate; it's like she's my clone, not my child).

Then later, I bring the mustard in my office to make sure it really has what's advertised on the bottle. Again, I dip my finger in, and I can actually taste a touch of champagne, the maple and, obviously, the mustard. I think the champagne is what I'm going to term a bridging ingredient -- the bubbles dance the maple and the mustard together. That's got to be the reason. The two other flavors are so heavy that this lightens up the whole mixture.

Hmm...that's a lot of deep thought for 11:10 p.m. on a Sunday. Enough, in fact.

Condiment Grrl

Hey - Butter IS Dairy!

2007-11-26T22:14:00.001-08:00

Turns out my Chocolate Fudge Pie recipe isn't dairy free. Oops!

Cheese baked into bread - Give Thanks!

2007-11-23T15:55:00.000-08:00

This year for Thanksgiving, I decided that the only way to celebrate the arrival of the Mayflower along with the Pilgrims which led to much future merriment with the Native Americans was to bake a chocolate pie. Nothing says, "Hello! We come in peace, but there will be horrible horrible consequences for your people!" like a delicious DAIRY-FREE chocolate fudge pie. I found a nice recipe in a 1950 "The Best of Gourmet Cooking." You know, when recipes all assumed a certain base of cooking knowledge so they're very short and sparse, "peak the egg whites, fold into the mixture, bake in a moderate oven." These days the recipes are like "turn on the oven: if you have an electric stove, you'll do this by a dial at the top. For gas stoves, you might have to be sure the pilot light is on..."

I had to buy some good hardcore unsweetened chocolate (yeah, that's right. That's for those of us who are truly hardcore) for the recipe, so I had to fight the Thanksgiving crowds and get myself to Metropolitan Market. I was trying to be good and restrain myself when I saw that there were free samples out in the food "porn" specialty area. And what samples they were - brioche with brie! Yep, a lovely brioche with a wheel of brie baked right into it. Each of the sliced samples was lovingly placed in an earth-killing plastic cup. And not only that, there are other condiments to add to the brioche with brie, brandied cranberries! Yum! Let's see, for those keeping score at home, that's fat (brie), carbs (brioche), and alcohol (brandied). The brioche is a light bread that complements the creamy brie perfectly, which leads me to muse:

Which is the condiment? You see I said "there are other condiments to add to the brioche with brie." That means I consider the brioche or the brie a condiment. Something that enhances the other. In this case, I would consider the brie a condiment for the brioche, mostly because you could also spread the brie on the brioche.

I can give thanks that I have enough abundance in my life to afford these lovely luxuries. That I can toss these in the basket for all to enjoy while the kiddies put on a Thanksgiving pageant that involved Baby Balsamic playing with a yo-yo while a solemn 11-year old intoned "And the Pilgrim women took care of the sick and the children." Baby Balsamic let out a laugh, not acting very sick. She also enjoyed the brandied cranberries.

Happy Thanksgiving,

Condiment Grrl

The Secret Ingredient

2007-11-19T06:35:00.000-08:00

At the headquarters of my corporate masters (no, Virginia, blogging about condiments is not a cash cow), there is a cafeteria which gets a B- on condiments. Standard oil and vinegar offered at the salad bar, but also balsamic vinegar (it's the new black) and olive oil vs. your standard vegetable oil. They only offer tabasco in little plastic packets, not by the bottle anymore.

This trend towards little plastic packets vs. the full bottle is disturbing to me. An indication of the general trend in our society towards insular living, holed up with our plastic media devices spewing light rays in high definition at us (of course, I type this sitting at said same object) vs. being out in the giant bottle of humanity.

Anyway, I usually get a salad, but this day they offered a tantalizing pulled pork mojito wrap with an Orange Chile sauce. The sauces are usually fine, but on this day, as I watched the nice woman behind the counter steaming up the tortilla, I noticed that the bowl containing the sauce for the wrap looked awfully homemade. So I inquired about its origin. Turns out, this lovely woman working in a corporate cafe which would bring me to my knees and/or a morphine habit in about 2 minutes, made the sauce herself. I was a tad surprised - I thought all these things came out of a bottle.

She gave me a taste and I tried to discern all the ingredients. I really, really wish I was better at this. I always wanted to be one of those people who take a sip of wine, then reel out "clearly contained in an oak barrel made of oaks from the northwest region of California, probably the small forest outside the town of Booneville, a man wearing boots that had tracked through blackberries walked over the dirt where the grapes grew, and a plane route flying a load of Florida citrus on a regular run flew over the vineyard twice a day, except on Sunday...."

I managed to guess olive oil. And that was it. It turns out she reduced orange juice (which I didn't know you could do), added Chipotle peppers, paprika for color, and the secret ingredient? She gave me a sly smile..."Dijon mustard."

I didn't guess it. I should have turned in my condiment grrl badge (Man, a condiment badge would have kept me in the girl scouts, but noooooooo, only stupid things like knots).

There was this crazy energy around the revelation of the secret ingredient. The furtive joy in knowing something only you know. Like having a secret crush, knowing that you see one additional thing in someone that no one else sees, that turns somebody you know into somebody special. We all have a secret ingredient. What's yours?

Condiment Grrl

The Family that Eats Mustard together...

2007-11-11T18:27:00.001-08:00

Tonight, at Sunday dinner, we served a yummy pot roast with assorted vegetables (including purple potatoes!). As is my wont, I put out two condiment jars on the table: cream-style horseradish and my new favorite Lemon Dill mustard from Earth & Vine. I like mixing the earthy, sinus-clearing experience of the mustard with the delicate lemon infused mustard. Now, for those of you keeping score at home, I am already on my second jar of my new favorite mustard. And it's approximately $8 a jar. No worries -- it's all coming out of Baby Balsamic's college fund. There will be no college after the oceans raise and flood out humanity; I'm just going to teach her how to surf and wear sunscreen. Lots and lots of sunscreen.

Big Daddy Condiment was over tonight and after sampling the Lemon Dill mustard, held up the jar and said, "Would you mind if I just dumped the contents of this jar straight into my mouth?"

And here's one for the baby book: Baby Balsamic asked for "condiments" with her dinner. It was the first time I can remember her using the word "condiment." It's almost as memorable as the first time she said "Mama," which I actually can't remember now.

Baby Balsamic's habit and the cost of the jar did give me pause as she went through piles of the expensive mustard with her dinner, just like I do. Everytime there was a hole on her plate, she would say "More mustard, please." I think she ate about $3 worth with her meal. The beef cost more. Ah well, now she will never have bad diseases due to the turmeric content.

Clearly, I was switched at birth with someone like Paris Hilton, so Baby Balsamic should be eating only the finest condiments off of silver plates in our summer home on the French Riviera. Wolfgang Puck would create a special ketchup just for us to eat at the grand openings of all his flagship stores, we would attract so much attention.

Condiment Grrl

What does this say about me?

2007-11-06T22:32:00.000-08:00

I've always thought that you could see the entire history of my life if you just rifle through enough of my t-shirts. A unique time-and-place imprint lurks beneath the cotton and iron-on decals that define my existence on this planet; a fabric piece of a puzzle that combine to create my own unique soul-DNA:

"Esperanto!" (My father was the president of the Esperanto society.)

"Hardy Boys Fan Club" (I don't want to hear about it. And yes, Shaun was my favorite.)

"UU - Liberal Religious Youth" (you know who you are)

"It will be a great day when the schools have all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber." (Still so true.)

"Peace Now" (Yes, I was a Berkeley girl. This shirt is purple with a pretty tree.)

"Ugly from the Front" (You have to be a Lyle Lovett fan to understand this one.)

"Davis Whole Earth Festival" (You had to be there to understand.)

"San Francisco Mime Troupe" (Not silent Mimes! Go here for more info.)

"Clinton/Gore '92" (Sigh.)

"Righteous Babe." (You gotta know the music of Ani DiFranco.)

"Condiment Phrenology." What's that you say? You've never heard of this shirt? Well, I just found out today when I received my mailing from the Mount Horeb Mustard Museum. I LOVE the whole "This is Your Brain on..." jokes. There can never be too many of those for me. They always crack me up. And this one just spoke to me, to my soul in a way that sang of new depths of my experience, of my life, and my emotions.

Mine and Baby Balsamic's should be on its way to us now. You can order yours here. As soon as it gets here, I will pose us both so you can see us for who we are now in our life. Of course, if Baby Balsamic could read, she would be most upset at the message as she worships ketchup as her very favorite vegetable ever.

I can just picture her, decades from now rifling through her very own t-shirt collection, which will hopefully read something like:

"President of the Honor Student Society"

"Official Olympic Women's Soccer Team 2024"

"My Mom is the best Mom ever!"

"Pete Seeger rulz!" (I want her to have a little rebelious phase. Just a little one. It's healthy.)

"Official Society of the Extremely Wealthy, yet Liberal and Giving, Investment Banker types who believe in Supporting their Parents in their Old Age."

Then I can see her in her therapist's office, pulling out a tiny "Condiment Phrenology" t-shirt and saying, "This shirt has always confused me, made me question my identity. I've always loved ketchup, so why should I have a shirt that defames ketchup. It's not right. WHO AM I?"

Then she'll start humming "Puff the Magic Dragon" to herself to calm herself down and fanning herself with a sheaf of 1,000 dollar bills. It's an image to warm a mother's heart.

What t-shirts are hiding in your closet?

Condiment Grrl

Two New Condiments -- So Quit Whining!

2007-11-03T19:59:00.000-07:00

I get occasional annoyed emails from people when I don't blog more regularly, but my god, people, "Grey's Anatomy" just came back on the air and I have to be a Mom occasionally and stuff. Important things. Not to mention dragging Baby Balsamic around the neighborhood to extort sugared goodies from the neighbors.

Side note: Baby Balsamic is famous! Here she is with her godfather, the esteemed editor of AfterElton - scroll down just a bit to see her in her snow princess outfit. Tres adorable!

Not only that, but, like the Xmas angel, I bring you glad tidings -- I discovered two delicious new condiments in the last week. Friday was payday, I'd been having a rough time in my corporate fiefdom, and instead of hitting the vodka, I hit the condiment aisle. I've been out of my G*D mustard for awhile and none of the mustards were quite what I wanted as a consistent side accompaniment to chicken or fish or my salad dressing. Oh, don't get me wrong, it was me, not my stable of mustards. I just wasn't in the mood for the pessimistic streak of dijon mustard. I needed lemons and lightness, which I found in spades in the Lemon Dill mustard by Earth & Vine. Such a wholesome, yet fancy-pants liberal gourmet name, but I love that there website has a folksy "n" in the name: www.earthnvine.com. You can just see some old codger, his pants hiked up to armpits, yelling off the porch, "Martha, we won't be needin' to go to the country store, we got the earth n vine place on the interwebs! They say 'n' just like us folks!"

Now, I've tried other mustards by this brand and had been disappointed. So, my eyes kept going past the Lemon Dill until finally, something (the Xmas angel perhaps?) told me to take a look at this one, the baby brother all grown up and ready to pluck. My one word of warning -- if you don't like lemon, don't get this mustard. The tang of the lemon is the strongest flavor in it. Also, the texture is a little watery. Even after opening it and putting it in the fridge for a night. But I couldn't get enough of it today. I enjoyed it with both my lunch and my dinner entrees.

The other new product is a Spicy Tomato Relish by the people who brought us the most awesome Holy Jalapeno jelly, my favorite of the jalapeno jellies out there on the market. Man, like the first product, this one holds no punches -- it just kicks you right in the gut. It is HOT! But tasty. And I'd never had a spicy tomato relish and I liked the rich nightshade flavor of the tomatoes in the relish reduction.

Not only that, but per the website, "Both are very carefully made with the finest quality ingredients available with no preservatives, additives, artificial color or corn syrup. They are also both fat free and have no cholesterol." Awesome! If Baby Balsamic could stomach hot things, I could feed her this with a clear mind while we wait for the glaciers to melt and the earth to heat up to unbearable temperatures.

Thank goodness I have all of her Halloween candy. I need it.

Condiment Grrl

Blu Cheese dressing

2007-10-20T22:13:00.000-07:00

Ah, chickens, today I visited a most luxuriant day spa -- Olympus Day Spa -- a place where you can go to soak away your troubles surrounded by oodles of other females in most attractive rayon shower caps in pools of varying temperature. Of my party, I was the only one bold enough to get in and out of the the 60 degree pool - TWICE. I attribute it to all my vinegar consumption; it fortifies my internal body core.

In addition to soaking tubs and saunas, there are "Earth Energy" rooms heated to 130, 140, and 150 degrees where you can steam away your burdens on a canvas mat covering salt crystals that invisibly reach up and strip away all the nasty toxins. Condiments even have a use in a day spa. Wow. And you should see the list of things they use to moisturize you -- honey and cucumber and Norman Bishop Dill Garlic mustard. Okay, not the last one, not even after I brought in my own bottle and specifically requested it. The one flaw I have found in my visits.

After this rejuvenating exercise, I got to experience the supreme sirloin Americana that is The Keg. It's pretty much like any other place you go with lots of wood paneling and the ubiquitous crab artichoke dip, but it's a tad more upscale. So much so that they bring you three different cheese toppings for the baked potatoes. don't get excited. I have to watch my weight, so I had the tuna. It was very good, but I wanted MORE CHEESE since I demurely began my meal (after my Keg sized glass of Cabernet), with a wedge of iceberg lettuce drenched in blue cheese dressing and bacon bits.

This is a new discovery of mine. I'm usually a Caesar kind of girl (especially if he's played by this guy!), but the Fall drives me to blue cheese. There's something about the base, intense flavor shot through with blue that makes me want to press leaves into a book and pretend that I'll one day learn to quilt and can in the Fall (which is crap. I'm too busy flushing my life away in Grey's Anatomy). And really good blue makes whatever you serve it with stand and salute: sweet olive relish, fig paste, okra intestines.

The blue cheese dressing on this salad was a little too sweet, they didn't just trust the blue cheese but added corn syrup or something to it. But even served a little too thinned, the blue cheese served it's purpose as a gateway cheese. You eat a bit of that and soon you want all kinds of creaminess. I found myself stabbing my dear friend, who up until about an hour before I had been soaking naked in a tub with, in the hand with a fork for a taste of her creamy crab mashed potatoes. Then dipping my fork in another friend's three cheese baked potato dressing.

And right now I'm sitting here, typing, trying not to think of the parmesan in the refrigerator. I'm still typing, still dreaming. Thank god my skin is smooth or I might be on the floor of the kitchen right now.

Condiment Grrl

Mr. Mustard Said No

2007-10-15T08:29:00.000-07:00

The Aioli must go. My thighs are breathing a sigh of relief.

What Happens to an Aioli Deferred?

2007-10-14T22:46:00.000-07:00

As part of a lovely collection of condiments, I received a jar of Aioli (god, I almost typed "Olio" and we all know I abhor margarine). To be specific, I received a Spanish Aioli by d'elite - Ali-Oli, Ajo Y Aceite De Oliva Virgen Extra. Can you hear the castanets? Aioli is basically a thick rich sauce comprised of whipped olive oil and garlic. Oh, and egg yolks. It's like a more garlicky hollandaise. Because I've been trying to watch my weight, I've been letting this jar sit on the shelf along with it's 22 GRAMS OF FAT PER SERVING (2 TSP). That's right. It's like a hamburger in a yellow savory custard.

Finally, this weekend, to celebrate Mr. Mustard's 120th birthday (he's extremely well preserved), I opened it for consumption along with cocktails (mmm...chocolate martinis). It's delicious swabbed with french bread (listen -- do you hear the screams of my crazy German naturopath who has made wheat verboten in my life?) and a few salty olives to cap off the cream. I enjoyed it tremendously, along with the spring rolls, the salami, the smoked salmon (!), the chocolate martinis, the cake. Ahhh...I feel early onset gout hitting.

I had the jar opened and, as is often my dilemna after I open a new non Norman Biship Dill Garlic mustard, I fretted that I wouldn't finish it before its expiration date. So, I took it along with me to a Wild Game night where I consumed, and I am not making this up, about 39844 different animals. I feasted on the flesh of yaks, llamas, elk, duck, octopus, veal, lamb, beef tongue, chicken, turkey, frog, quail. I was too full for the sea urchin cream puffs, so I just looked out the window and contemplated the fall of Rome and the current state of American affairs.

However, Baby Balsamic accompanied me and she makes it perfectly clear when her expiration date is and we had to scuttle from the party before she turned into a gamey pumpkin (she particuliarly enjoyed the elk). And I plunged the jar of aioli into her bag, rushed her home, then realized the next morning that I had forgotten to take the jar out of the bag.

So, my question is Do I Feel Lucky? Should I attempt to continue enjoying this fatty saucy treat? Or do I, with a tear in my eye, say goodbye prematurely to this gift of my ancestors (I'm 1/4 Spanish, mija)? I'm not sure. I'm staring at the jar on my desk as I type, thinking of all the small and large risks we take in our lives. Or we ignore the temptation and wonder what would have happened if we had said Yes. Yes to the question. Yes to the possibly bad aioli.

I don't know. I just don't know.

Condiment Grrl.

Sometimes, Less is More

2007-09-30T13:59:00.000-07:00

It's true. There are times when I think that maybe I go overboard in my food accessories. It's Artisan Cheese month at my favorite fancy-pants high end market, but god help my checkbook if a Whole Foods ever opens up here in Tacoma. I would somehow create a tent camoflaged as a giant bag of wheat flour -- because most people who shop there now are gluten-free - and live in the prepared foods aisle, only showing myself at night when I roll out of my bag to grab another tub of spinach dip, made with parmesan cheese and the captured giggles of pinenut fairies.

Okay, stop. This post is about not going overboard. It's about enjoying the simplicity of a dish; on occasion, that's not a bad thing. Yesterday, I prepared some yummy appetizers for Mr. Mustard on his return from rehearsal, including a delicious artisan cheese (mentioned above, before I started rambling on) called "Beecher's Flagship." I placed gluten-packed crackers on a plate, with a bowl of roasted tomatoes on the side. Then I opened the fridge and started pulling out some possible good accompaniments to the cheese: Marionberry Chipotle jam, Balsamic gel, and truffle paste. I then worked my way through all of the various pastes, slathering them onto the cheese and each time, I was disappointed. The cheese was strong and flavorful enough on its own. My condiments tasted as bitter as my hubris.

Here's the perfect sequence of bites:

1. A bite of cheese.
2. Sip of lovely Spanish wine.
3. Roast tomato on gluten-packed cracker.
4. Sip of wine.
5. Sip of wine.
6. Cheese.
7. Wine.

And on and on and on.

Of course, at this point, we could always make a case for the wine being a condiment for the cheese, but that's sort of a chicken/egg argument. Is the cheese a condiment for the wine? Or are they just as they are, and there's no labels man, just two foods that compliment each other perfectly.

Condiment Grrl

A Penchant for French's

2007-09-23T14:57:00.000-07:00

Now we all know that I am a big fat liberal fancy schmancy, wine and cheese lovin' liberal with a preference for fancy pants, expensive condiments made with ingredients like tumeric, truffle oil and the tears of Larry Craig. Hee hee. I just made that one up. But that's a different blog posting, "Condiments to salve your wounded spirits after you've been caught soliciting anonymous man-on-man action in a public restroom and you're a bigoted homophobic Republican Senator."

Perhaps the Senator and I would share a bottle of French's mustard, the ubiquitous yellow substance found in baseball parks and most suburban homes. Sweeter and lighter than the murkier and more French Dijon mustard, it still has quite a bite and can induce extreme "mustard whoops" (from the Condiment Grrl dictionary: "a loud whooping sound emitted by someone who's just imbibed a large spoonful of mustard."). The Senator would be able to express his grief at being caught out with his pants down and cover it up by saying it was all due to the mustard. For me, it helps me get over this nasty cough that I just can't shake. But a dip of chicken or mashed potatoes (OMG -- mashed potatoes with mustard -- one word: SOGOOD!) and my chest feels a bit clearer and I am able to at least contemplate a Suduko puzzle.

You see, mustard contains turmeric, which has been found to reduce the prospect of Alzheimer's. It's in curry, so Alzheimer's is virtually unheard of in India, where they still die of quaint third-world diseases like Malaria.

Tonight, I'm going to try French's on a London Broil. Yummy!

I don't know what the Senator is trying, but I'm sure it's not what he really wants.

Condiment Grrl

The Red and The White

2007-09-09T23:02:00.000-07:00

So, this weekend, I totally party-crashed on an extended neighbor's 40th birthday party. Like totally party crashed. We all just "happened to be walking down the street" when we saw people we knew going into a house for a barbeque. I sent Baby Balsamic in first to test the waters (now, who can ask the incredible cuteness that is Baby Balsamic to leave a party?), then we followed and had soon settled ourselves, stolen drink in hand, around the buffet. Luckily, they're great people and even tolerated me hovering around the preparation of the Caprese salad.

"Do you have Balsamic vinegar?" I asked, because if I'm going to deign to eat from a buffet where I've crashed, the Caprese salad had darn well better be dressed with Balsamic vinegar. Luckily, they were civilized and not only did they have regular Balsamic vinegar, the host offered me white Balsamic vinegar, which I have never consciously tasted. Now, that doesn't mean that I have gone on fermented condiment binges and ended up being photographed imbibing all kinds of mysterious pickled things, and was later blackmailed. Just don't Google "CondimentGrrl, Celery Salt, Tequila, and Mario." You don't want to know the details.

I have tried white Balsamic Vinegar in the past, but only when I was out of the regular kind and desparately seeking something to dress my salad. But this weekend, I had a kind host who tolerated me taking a spoonful of white balsamic, cleansing my palate with wine, then a spoonful of red Balsamic. The white balsamic tasted like a cross between regular Balsamic and Red Wine vinegar. Definately lighter and less sweet, although I couldn't help but wonder if I was missing out on those antitoxicants that are in wine and deep red substances and prevent cancer and stretch marks and general bad things. I researched the ingredients in White Balsamic and found that it's made from white wine vinegar and grape must versus red wine vinegar and grape must.

Of course, I have a feeling that the traditional Italian Balsamic makers who spend years transferring the Balsamic from wood to wood, barrel to smaller barrel, would spit on the White variety. However, the website I found also suggests that it's better for salad dressing because it doesn't overwhelm the other ingredients. Pish Tosh, I say to this. Tell that to someone who doesn't add Anchovy paste to her everyday salad dressing. But that's another blog post.

This makes me think of white chocolate versus dark chocolate. I'm a deep, dark chocolate kind of girl and I require chocolate that's about 95% cocoa. It's like a very, very, very dry martini: just hold the bottle of vermouth next to the glass with the gin. Just hold the sugar cannister next to the pot of simmering cocoa beans, then throw it away. I like white chocolate, but it's like the whole powerhouse experience of the deep cocoa hitting my taste buds is lacking. It's a lighter experience, and I guess sometimes that's a good thing.

But not according to Mario.

CondimentGrrl

The Kosher Japanese connection

2007-09-05T21:13:00.000-07:00

As our world becomes smaller and smaller, our cultures merge and marry, foam and thicken and churn out new and strange products for us to consume and merge into our busy lives. I will never forget the meal I had a few years ago in New York at a Cuban-Chinese restaurant. Actually, I lied, I'll never forget that I HAD a meal at a Cuban-Chinese restaurant. I can barely remember what I ate, but I do remember there were plantains involved, because it was Cuban cuisine.

Baby Balsamic and I journeyed south to the Bay Area to visit with friends and family. When I opened Big Mama Salsa's refrigerator, it's like remembering why I am who I am -- she has about five billion condiments (frugal, compared to my 12 billion, but still significant). Some of them have been in there since I was a child. I had to retire a couple bottles of marinades and dressings that went bad when Reagan was still president.

But there are a few that Big Mama Salsa keeps buying and using, but feel like they've been in there forever. And there's some that I have passed over, time after time, because I was in the mood for something else or I was just being rebellious because I wasn't going to use my mother's condiments. It's like dying my hair blue and dating the guy who drove the hearse who called himself Ren, short for Renegade. Those were square condiments, man!

We were trying to simply and quickly barbeque some pork chops, so pulled out a bottle of Soy Vay Veri Veri Teriyaki sauce, marinated the chops for about an hour, tossed them on the grill and finished them off. Perfect! Sweet, but tangy. The sauce is kosher with nice chunks of garlic floating around in the thick almost chocolately looking darkness. According to the website, "the basic ingredients in Soy Vay are an imported Hoi Sin sauce plus other spices; a combination of soya bean, garlic, sugar, vinegar, sesame seed and chili." And you can really taste each ingredient.

Although, I don't really get the Jewish connection except that it's Kosher and a cute marketing idea, it's good sauce. And I can like it and it makes me realize that maybe I am a grown-up now and I don't have to reject all things my mom likes, except maybe those multi-colored rap pants she's so enamored of. I still hate those.

Condiment Grrl

But Where Were the Sport Peppers?

2007-08-26T20:17:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-21T22:56:00.000-07:00

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

2007-08-04T22:16:00.000-07:00

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

A Nose for Truffles

2007-07-26T22:24:00.000-07:00

Here's a Condiment Grrl secret: I was switched at birth with Paris Hilton. It's very clear from my tastes and desires that I was born to live a life swathed in baby mink fur, bathing in endangered seal oil, while a diverse ethnic group of minions buffed my pink toes. And, bien sur, I would be feasting on the finest that the condiment world has to offer, including lots and lots of lots of things involving truffles.

You see, I'm a newcomer to mushrooms. When I turned three and began to cultivate a more discerning diet (not unlike, sigh, my own Baby Balsamic), I summarily rejected all mushrooms from my diet. They were yucky, musty, overrated.

They were just bad. But I've recently discovered that I have a taste for the more expensive mushrooms: Chantrelles, Portobellos, and, of course, truffles. They were intriguing, strange, with exotic hints of faraway places that might have bred the ethnically diverse minions who would one day serve my every need.

The truffles is the newest discovery. An old friend visited and brought me a selection of delicious condiments, including an Olive Truffle paste that absolutely floored me. The "je ne sais quoi" of the truffles lightens the usual saltiness of the Olive paste. It's one of those foods that you try and remember where you tasted THAT flavor before - the South of France? Chicago? Fife? In some ways, the very distinct yet almost elusive flavor of the truffle is like a past life portal that almost makes you remember a different life. One of satin nightgowns and 3 a.m. scotch and lots and lots and lots of hair gel. One where you slept in a giant white fluffy bed with rose red curtains and were awakened at 11 with a tray of coffee, orange juice, and an omelet lightly dusted with truffle extract.

I can almost taste it. Ahhh...the condiment as a portal to past and possible lives. Dip into it carefully.

Condiment Grrl

Subconscious Condiments in the Arts

2007-07-24T21:38:00.000-07:00

So, this last weekend, I was priviledged enough to take part in a most excellent theater festival, 14/48, where the point is to create something by the seat of your pants; to grab the first crazy idea you have and ride it all the way home. No second thoughts, no misgivings -- you just have to GO. Basically, I showed up on Thursday night, along with 6 other extraordinary writers, and got handed a theme - "A Late Entry" - and a number of men or women I had to write for, then I had to go out into the night and furiously scribe a 10 minute play, due at 8:00 a.m. the next morning.

I ended up writing a sweet little ditty about a girl and a dreaded and desired jam contest, "Ruby's Red Ribbon Purple Jam." Needless to say, the jam was a metaphor, but this is a family blog so I won't go into specifics except to tell all of you to go to the kitchen, find some jam, dip two fingers into it, then lick it off your fingers, or put it somewhere else, then lick it off. Very slowly. And that's all the playwriting lesson you get for today, naughty readers.

Okay, the first thing all of you are thinking, knowing me, is "Why didn't she choose a mustard contest?"

Well, 1. I really didn't consciously think of a condiment contest. I just let the muse guide me and
she led me down the jam path.
2. Not everyone has the strange and varied tastes that I do.

It wasn't until after the show that a number of people who read my blog approached me and said, "Of course YOU would write about condiments" with a dirty smile on their happy faces.

Honestly, I didn't think about it until then. And then I chuckled to myself, because it all makes sense. It's all one big, beautiful crazy unconscious world.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a very tasty jar of Curry Mustard I need to taste.

Condiment Grrl

Blogging on Vacation...

2007-07-09T12:13:00.000-07:00

Here I am, leaving an air conditioned house in Detroit, Michigan in 100 degree heat just to blog, blog away for all of you. I've been on vacation since June 29, first spending a week on Madeleine Island in Wisconsin, surrounded by the freezing waters of Lake Superior. Then, we drove hundreds of miles to Detroit and are encamped here until Thursday when we return to the Twin Cities (where we flew into), via Chicago, to return to the cool Northwest. And do you know what I discovered?

Luxury condiments are EVERYWHERE. EVERYWHERE these days.

The first day in St. Paul, our friend George took us to a random supermarket in St. Paul -- not a super gourmet one -- and I found a bevy of condiment that I hadn't seen before including something that is a second cousin to the bacon doughnut:

CHOCOLATE BALSAMIC VINEGAR!!! With chunks of chocolate floating in the bottle, to boot. Made by a Minnesota native (the company has a great name -- the Golden Fig), her specialty vinegars have not found their way around the country yet (at least not to the Northwest), but they will. For one thing, each and every one of her flavored vinegars is chock full of the flavoring ingredient. Of course, some smaller minded people might point out that this means less of the actual vinegar, but I like the over-abundance of flavoring agents. Yummy!

The chocolate balsamic vinegar is another one of those peanut butter/chocolate, bacon/maple bar combinations that sound initially crazy, but slowly the complete and utter sense of them percolates up from your subconscious until you realize how right it is. I poured some on strawberries and the tartness of the vinegar compensated for the sweetness of the chocolate and strawberries. It's the perfect dessert alternative for people who don't like too much sweet stuff.

On the tiny island, I also purchased a Garlic Balsamic mustard that is made for a Wisconsin company. I don't have the bottle with me -- I was only able to sneak the chocolate balsamic into the library, but it was good, although perhaps a little too sweet for my garlic balsamic vinaigrette.

Here in Detroit, we went to a liquor store that had a whole shelf of cocktail related condiments! Now I can experience Angostura bitters and blog about the experience in greater detail.

Back to vacation-land.

Condiment Grrl

From Bacon to Habanero...

2007-06-26T22:39:00.000-07:00

Continuing my musings on condiments discovered in Portland.

I blogged a little bit about the Portland Farmers Market, which is unbelievably fabulous with all kinds of artisanal cheeses, lamb sausage, legal non-hallucinogenic mushrooms, and lots and lots and lots of fresh, locally-made condiments. This is one of the food waves of the 21st century that I truly appreciate - a huge variety of non-mass produced condiments that don't contain lots of chemicals, just copious amounts of vinegar, garlic, ginger, chipotle (I swear, this has become the Paris Hilton of condiment ingredients).

We were on a bit of a budget and had to save money for the Bacon Bar, so I had to limit myself to one jar, so after sampling a few booths, I settled on the Rose City Pepperheads extremely spicy Garlic Ginger BBQ, Dipping & Cooking Jelly. Now I will tell you why this Jelly is a Jelly amongst Jellies - it burned my tongue. In an oh-so-good way. It's sweet, but ginger, garlic, and habanero gang up to light a fire under the sweet jelly's ass. It's really complex and very addictive - it's one of the few condiments that actually deliver a taste of each advertised ingredient. And I like the fact that is has a simpler name, unlike some of the Pepperheads other products, like Pomegranate Pizazz. Just Ginger Garlic, which almost lulls you into a overspiced stir-fry state.

God, in life we need more Ginger Garlic experiences. A taste, smell or idea that is consumed innocently and opens up our pores to the beauty and comprehensive spiciness and kick-assedness of it all.

Quick note: Thus far, I have only tried this on crackers and salami, but I will try preparing a stir-fry with it soon.

Condiment Grrl

The Magic is in the Hole

2007-06-25T22:29:00.001-07:00

As promised, here are photos from our family pilgrimage to Voodoo Doughnut.

No matter what I do, I can't get this picture to orient correctly. This is me with my bacon booty outside Voodoo Doughnut, pre-consumption.

Mr. Mustard and Baby Balsamic eagerly anticipate their donut treats while being serenaded by loud Death Metal.

And the holiest of the holy -- the bacon maple bar. Is it not a thing of beauty?

Bow down before your master!

Condiment Grrl

Bacon Donut at Voodoo Doughnut!

2007-06-24T20:34:00.000-07:00

So, this weekend, Mr. Mustard, Baby Balsamic, and myself tootling down to Portland for a party of a whole bunch of old friends and quickly lost ourselves in the delights of this city that really managed to get everything right:

- a great downtown served by an excellent train service.
- amazing restaurants
- lively neighborhoods, many of which have their own movie theater
- lots of McMinnamins which means great pub food while watching above-mentioned movies
- Excellent condiments at a diverse variety of locations, including PastaWorks, the amazing Portland Farmer's Market, and Voodoo Doughnut!

I blogged about Voodoo Doughnut before because they deserve the Nobel Peace Prize for using bacon as a condiment on a Maple Bar. Now, until recently, I had only heard of them on Anthony Bourdain's show. They were but the rumor of the promised land, the Sanctuary to my very own Logan-like run. They have fruit loops and oreos and marshmallows on all sizes of donut.

We found the shop on the edge of downtown in a slightly run-down, but rapidly gentrifying neighborhood. On the wall next to the store was a picture advertising "Fetish Night" with a woman with metal spikes through the skin in her back. The storefront is a small door on a large building with a giant Voodoo Doughnut sign dwarfing the entrance. It felt more like a club entrance than the gateway to Paradise. On entry, you find a very small area for the patrons to salivate over the offerings. There's lots of merchandise (some very attractive t-shirts, if you feel like buying your beloved condiment grrl a present) pinned to very dark walls and death metal punk blaring from overhead speakers. There's one small service counter with a rotating display case to the left which contains one kind of all the donuts they have available.

Remembering poor Comte's experience with them being out of the bacon bars, I quickly scanned the rotating case. And I saw one. And it glowed with beauty and joy; the two perfectly crispy pieces of bacon nesting in a slick icing of maple. I am salivating as I write this, it looked so freaking good. There were people ahead of us in line and I fretted and listened to their orders, worrying they would snatch up the last bacon bar. But they did not and when we reached the front of the line, we got a pink marshmallow donut for BB, and a lovely young woman with many piercings and tattoos delivered unto me the last bacon bar.

We took it back to the car and waited for BB to consume her pink donut, then sink into a deep sleep before consuming the Bacon Bar. And it was....AMAZING!!!

I know you were waiting for me to write that it disappointed me, but it did not. The maple glaze wasn't too sweet, which meant that you really got the combination of the maple and the bacon, versus a think sweet soup that comes atop many other donuts. The bacon was the perfect crispness, not greasy at all.

It was a really good donut. A really, really, really good donut.

Get thee to Portland now. Pictures tomorrow.

Condiment Grrl

You had me at bacon

2007-06-17T20:35:00.000-07:00

This last Friday, Baby Balsamic, Mama Salsa and I ventured onto the nearby peninsula and discovered the delightful town of Poulsbo, Washington, which is like dropping in on a Norwegian village circa the 50s, but with more avant-garde art and better food. There's about 5 blocks through downtown with adorable store after restaurant after bakery after coffee shop (I especially enjoyed the Poulsbohemia Cafe) threaded by streets names things like "King Olav V vei" and "Queen Sonja Henie." Okay, it was just named Queen Sonja, but wasn't Sonja Henie adorable?

And let me start off by saying that the people there were all incredibly nice. When we first arrived, we had to quickly find a potty for the newly trained Baby Balsamic, but public potties are few and far between in these modern times. A woman who worked at the nearby Marina led us to their restroom and plugged in the code so we could gain entry. After Baby Balsamic had taken care of her urgent need, I was chatting with the woman who told me that I must check out the local Marina Market, as they had a wild stock of European foods.

Now, my devoted readers will already know that there's nothing I love more than discovering and experiencing an exotic new condiment, so mention of a store brimming with strange sauces and sublime rubs had me trotting up to the doors as fast as my sensible Clarks could carry me (Baby Balsamic in tow of course, I didn't leave her back at the Marina restroom).

And low and behold, she was right. There was shelf after shelf of strange Norwegian sauces and pickles and concoctions that would make the most discerning pallet love lutefisk (or not. It's a hard sell). Sadly, I only have so much money and approached the counter with only two items: 1. A tube of what I could only suppose was lemon mayonnaise, as it was called "Sitron Majones," but there was no english anywhere on the packaging to confirm this. It was either lemon mayonnaise or "serious testicles."

2. A jar of a yellow mustardy mixture with bits of unidentifiable things floating in it. Again, no english at all on the jar, but there was a picture of one of those rolled up sandwich things that they serve at catered functions (nobody I know rolls up their sandwiches).

I asked the lovely woman behind the counter what was in the yellow jar and she said, "Well, for starters, Bacon..." then she kept talking about other things and how it was used for the roll sandwich, etc, etc. But all I said was, "You had me at 'Bacon.'" We started chatting about my blog and she ended up giving me a complimentary condiment, an Indonesian red pepper rub, which she said would be quite good with rice.

So far, I have only tried the Sitron Majones and it was...interesting. It was clearly mayonnaise, and it had some lemon, but it also was a little sweeter than I expected. I swiped some on bread and added a slice of mayonnaise and it was tasty, but I think I'll reserve this for a future picnic where I need a handy mayonnaise dispenser.

Since it was Father's Day today, Big Daddy Condiment was over and he too sampled the Sitron Majones.

"It tastes fishy. Did they add lutefisk or something?"

No one else could taste the fish, but it made me wonder if one of the Norwegian ingredients on the label (fortykningsmiddel perhaps?) doesn't mean "testicles."

Happy Father's Day!

Condiment Grrl

Six degrees of separation from Condiments...

2007-06-10T22:33:00.000-07:00

True confession: I HEART Turner Classic Movies. I could sit around all day watching dames in hot satin nightgowns pour stiff drinks for hair gel be-slicked men wearing pants that practically ride up to their armpits speaking sparkling dialog, the likes of which we will never again hear in the movies. And the plots -- those crazy plots! A mysterious young woman disappears, presumed dead, the detective falls in love with her picture, but she's still alive, then Fred Astaire comes in and they all tap dance while Harpo Marx randomly blows a horn and plays a harp.

They just don't make 'em like that anymore.

I was laying around the other day, thinking deep thoughts, when a movie I had never heard of --Hullabaloo, starring none other than the Wizard of Oz himself, Frank Morgan. The Wizard was playing an adorable louse who wants to be a radio star, if only he could get out of the clutches of three ex-wives and the children he's littered behind him. Hijinx ensue and then everyone appears in a giant radio show where Fred Astaire comes out and everyone tap dances and Harpo Marx...well, you get the idea.

I always like to follow up on movies I've seen with IMDB to glean more interesting details and to procrastinate. In Frank Morgan's bio on the site, it listed that his family made it's money by producing Angostura Bitters -- an apertif and digestif normally added to cocktails to settle the stomach. A sort of cocktail condiment. I quickly searched the house to see if I had a bottle of this lurking in a filing cabinet or in Baby Balsamic's bookshelf (stranger things have turned up in the house). The jar looked so familiar to me, but I realize now that what I recognized is its close resemblance to Worchestchershirechestshire Sauce (look, I can't even spell it correctly enough to locate a record on Wikipedia, so this is what you get. You know what I'm talking about). And the label has that British, highly refined, lots of complicated words look that make you think you're getting a high-quality product.

So, my new goal is to purchase a bottle of Angostura bitters and add them to gin (to make Pink Gin) and then review. The cocktail will only be to better serve you, my devoted readers. And maybe if I drink enough, then I'll get to see Fred Astaire play the harp while Harpo Marx tap dances and I'll wear a hot satin nightgown.

And all because the Wizard was in a movie I saw and I discovered his family heritage. This lust for condiments brings all sorts of good things into my life.

To summarize:

1. Drinking Angostura Bitters in a cocktail will help your digestion and bring you one step closer to Frank Morgan who...
2. Played the Wizard in the Wizard of Oz with Judy Garland who...
3. Starred in Easter Parade with Fred Astaire who...
4. Taught Harpo Marx to play the harp!

Okay, I made that last step up, but look drink Angostura Bitters and you're 3 steps away from a dancing legend. Is this a great country or what?

Condiment Grrl

I don't approve of this AT ALL

2007-06-02T19:06:00.000-07:00

Read this article from the San Francisco Chronicle.

Now, I know that we've all been frustrated with fast food before. It's late, you're hungry and tired and there's good old reliable McJackintheKingBurger. You pull in, receive your food through a tiny window, drive for a bit, stop to enjoy your modest repast and discover that they forgot to give you ketchup. Or that the Chicken Nuggets dipping sauce is only good for two nuggets and you've got eight more sitting in a box. And the Chicken Nuggets REALLY need dipping sauce. It's unAmerican to eat them without.

But this, this, this, is unbelievable. To shoot a manager over not enough Chili Sauce.

Have we all gone mad? What's next? The Mustard Murders?

Condiments must be consumed in a civil manner. Or else we are all doomed!

Condiment Grrl

Epicurean Epiphanies for Everyday?

2007-05-26T14:12:00.000-07:00

So I just found a new delicious mustard today. The last few days I had been disconsolately staring at my open mustards, vaguely dissatisfied, unsure of how I ended up with three different horseradish mustards open at the same time. And I'm out of my G*D mustard, which always puts me out of sorts. I had a lucious breast of chicken and nothing I felt like rubbing all over it.

I don't even like horseradish mustard all that much. It's like going to a dinner party at the house of two fascinating, but not totally socially presentable, married people who both get a little TOO intense on the topic of the capitalist trending of mainland China and the possible ramifications for Taiwan and Tibet. And they don't let up until you feel sad and bitter and a little sick to your stomach.

Of course, I may yet have to find the PERFECT horseradish mustard. I'm sure it's out there, somewhere, if I wish on a yellow star when the moon is perfectly phased.

This new mustard is a new flavor combination I have yet to try: Madras Curry mustard made by a relative upstart in the condiment business: dulcet. Two things caught my eye on the little jar: 1. It's small, so I don't have to buy a giant jar of something that I might not like all that much. 2. The company slogan "Epicurean Epiphanies for Everday." I like the slogan, but I would have worded it differently. I think Everyday Epicurean Epiphanies flows off the tongue a little easier.

Baby Balsamic was feasting on her usual highly-nutitious, organic, raised by blind Tuscan nuns type food - a hot dog. I snagged a piece of her Bavarian treat and tried it with a bit of the mustard. Nice, sweet, the curry flavor was strong, but not too strong. I dipped my finger in for the straight-taste-test, and found it a bit sweeter than I thought, but quite compelling. Unlike many other strange combinations of condiments, they managed to balance the curry flavor with the vinegar and the cayenne. I used it to make my favorite balsamic vinaigrette and it livened up my green salad.

Final decision: I highly recommend the Madras Curry mustard by dulcet. And it's made in Oregon and all-natural so you don't have to worry about contributing to global warming through your ingestion of high-fructose corn syrup or partially hydrogenated soybean oils.

And now I don't have to feel peevish when I view my mustards. I really must dispose of these open horseradish mustards.

Condiment Grrl

Periodic Table of Condiments

2007-05-23T22:22:00.000-07:00

I was chatting with a friend at work today about my blog and she mentioned that she had overheard someone in a restaurant earlier in the week saying that it was National Condiment Day. Well, I was naturally horrified that I had no knowledge of this extremely important day. I promptly googled the term and came up with a strange mention on a random blog which led me to this:

Periodic Table of Condiments

Actually, its official title is "Table of Condiments That Periodically Go Bad." Can I tell you how much I love that statement? It's so evocative; it could be a strange Restoration play or a Far Side cartoon (remember "When Clowns Go Bad?" And I think there was one where the ketchup or something was robbing the food in the fridge. I miss Gary Larsen).

But this excellent resource tells us important things like how long you can keep that blue cheese dressing in your refridgerator. Did you know that Vegemite only lasts two months? You only have 3 days to get through that Au Jus sauce. And my favorite, Baco Bits, has an N/A beneath it. I assume that after the Nuclear Armagedon, that all the surviving cockroaches will have to eat will be Baco Bits sprinkled on Twinkies.

Now I've come over all peckish. Maybe I'll head to Portland so I can get a Bacon Doughnut.

Condiment Grrl

Bill Maher's New Rule about Mustard

2007-05-16T23:04:00.000-07:00

I swear I was just thinking this when I heard Bill Maher talk about mustard on the New Rules segment of his show. When I'm in the mood for the tangy liquid taste of plastic bottled mustard, I'm usually frustrated by this occurence:

From Bill Maher's show on HBO:

New Rule: Someone has to make a mustard container that doesn’t squirt out yellow water before it gets to the actual mustard. [laughter] [applause] [cheers] Someone had to say it. I get all excited for lunch, and then Grey Poupon pees on my sandwich. [laughter] [applause] I suppose I could shake the bottle first, but, fuck you, I’m an American consumer! [laughter] [applause] Not only should your mustard be pre-blended to my specifications, it should also whiten my teeth. [laughter]

A Cold Spring and a blind date that just didn't work...

2007-05-12T22:41:00.000-07:00

We had turkey breast for dinner tonight and I was really looking forward to my version of comfort food -- Lemon, Dill, & Caper sauce accompanied by a salad with a nice garlicky, anchovy-heavy, balsamic vinaigrette homemade by me while Baby Balsamic begged for a taste of the Dijon mustard which I used to spike the dressing.

But as I wiped my turkey in the tangy, course sauce, it just didn't do it for me. The turkey was too dense, too dry to be a moist home for my chosen condiment. I needed a hot and sour cranberry variation (sometimes the old standards are standards for a reason). Chicken is a bit juicier and sweeter than it's larger, dumber brother Turkey. Although this musing is making me wonder what the perfect condiment would be for a Turducken? I ended up breaking up pieces of turkey, under the glaring eye of the turkey cook, Mr. Mustard, and adding it to my salad. It worked great with the figs and avocado.

Maybe it's the cold spring weather that's making me peevish, but when a favored condiment doesn't go with something you think it will, it's like the entire Universe spins a little more crazily out of whack. And I'm out of Norman Bishop G*D mustard. Sigh.

Tomorrow morning is mother's day and I'm fully expecting my favorite bacon recipe that involves the bacon being coated with brown sugar, a bit of black pepper and a bit of cayenne pepper. I don't think the cold spring day could take away my joy in that dish.

Condiment Grrl

I'm back...and I came over all peckish

2007-05-08T22:53:00.000-07:00

Excuses, excuses. I was sick. I was overworked. I was forced to visit friends and family in California, drink too much wine every night, then plop Baby Balsamic in front of vintage "Pink Panther" cartoons while Mommy slept "just a little longer."

And this will be short, because I have to get to sleep, but here's some previews of coming attractions:

-- Condiment SMACKDOWN - Branston Pickle vs. Branston Piccalilli! Two condiments walk in, one walks out on my hot dog....

-- Emergency Condiments - how to make a taste treat out of little plastic packets.

-- What the hell is wrong with a store that stops selling a mustard that I want to buy that they used to carry?

But first, in praise of French's mustard. I was in the airport and I hungered, I hungered deeply and powerfully (or as they say in a Monty Python sketch, "I came over all peckish"). I went to one of those hideous little food places they have in the airport where they charge you crazy amounts of money for little pieces of food. I got an everything bagel and asked for red onions. No red onions. I need a little savory flavor with my bagel so I hunted for salt and vinegar chips, then I had to just buy the damn bagel the way it was because Baby Balsamic was about to try and board a flight to New York. I looked at my limp bagel with it's pallid cream cheese. A tear struggled out of my eye and danced down my cheek, so I went to get napkin and noticed the condiment bins. Salt, pepper, ketchup, mayonnaise, relish, and mustard! I was drawn to the yellow. I put two packets on my bagel and my GOD, it was refreshing! Better than coffee. The mustard gave my tongue a little sizzle and the oh-so-delightful bitterness made up for Baby Balsamic wetting the seat on the plane.

Condiment Grrl

Hawaiian Condiments, Lost Hard Drives and so much more...

2007-04-20T22:45:00.000-07:00

Aloha, Mahalo and all that!

I am FINALLY posting a new post. I have been through quite an ordeal lately, starting with our fabulous trip to the Big Island of Hawaii. Now that Baby Balsamic and I have been restored to our standard shade of beige, I can get some perspective on the experience.

Our first day there, we stopped for groceries to stock our condo and I, of course, wandered the store to see what sort of condiments I could expect to sprinkle onto my sun-drenched vacation. I didn't expect much, perhaps a few Poi enhancers and your standard ketchup and mustard aisle. Instead I found a bevy of Hula Girl hot sauces. I picked a bottle with an exceptionally saucy looking native wench, then continued trolling the aisles.

Then I found it. The gateway to the far east -- AN ENTIRE AISLE STACKED WITH PICKLED THINGS ONLY FOUND IN ASIA (Or Uwajimaya, as Mr. Mustard pointed out later). Of course, there were sauces and spices and dips and braises and rubs and things, but my mouth was salivating at all the pickled things. And they were in these little crazy cans. I modestly only purchased a can of pickled leeks, which were tasty, but not quite vinegary enough for me.

The next day, Mr. Mustard brought me home some Sweet Maui Onion Mustard -- which stood out because I could actually discern the taste of the sweet onions through the mustard. It made a nice rub for the fresh marlin and mahi-mahi and ahi tuna that we consumed throughout the week.

The Hula Girl hot sauce was good too -- I'll do a separate blog post about it with photos and everything. I smuggled the bottle back in my bag, hoping it wouldn't be confiscated by zealous airport security.

I have to admit, I had big plans of buying a new condiment or two each day and doing a Special Condiment Grrl report - HAWAII, but then I became mesmerized by the dolphin school that swam by our lanai each morning and all the sea turtles at the nearby snorkling beach.

My blogging my take a break, but my deep and abiding love never does.

Mahalo,

Condiment Grrl

Aloha, my lovelies!

2007-03-29T22:47:00.000-07:00

I'm off to Hawaii in the morning to experience all kinds of Hawaiian condiments like chile pepper water and other things which I don't know about...yet. It's all part of the discovery of travel. As soon as I consume my recommended quota of pretty drinks with umbrellas in them (sigh, if *only* they were edible, condiment umbrellas. Somebody should get on that right away.) I may order a dish or two and see what dipping sauces are brought to my table.

So, I don't know if I'll be getting to the blog while I'm away, but we'll see.

In the meantime, a tidbit. I was watching an excellent HBO series, Rome, and had a condiment alert. A smoking hot soldier by the name of Titus Pullo, one of our heroes, was leaving for a long journey and battle. And before he left, he absolutely had to fill his flask of vinegar. Vinegar, like most condiments in the days before Heinz, was an expensive and rare thing that would be coveted and appreciated for days.

Perhaps I should fill my vinegar flask before I go. You never know what they're going to serve you on the planes these days!

Aloha!

Condiment Grrl

This Week in Condiments

2007-03-26T20:26:00.000-07:00

Raspberry Honey Mustard as a dipping sauce for pretzels?

I guess it could happen. Many things could happen. I heard about this combination from a friend who runs a wonderful local blog for parents: Tacoma Kids. And it's another one for the "Wow, I never thought of THAT combination, but now that you say it, it sounds amazing!" And yes, that's the technical name. There's a newish store that sells fresh meat and produce nearby and they also have a big condiment rack in the middle of the store. Periodically, they put out samples of their condiments for hungry shoppers (usually harried moms who've just picked up their kids from school).

I have to stop and comment here that I find it amusing that a small store would still find enough market value to devote a good portion of their floor space to condiments. It speaks to the strength, the power, the indescribable allure of condiments.

Asian Italian Fusion Dipping Sauce

Last night, Baby Balsamic and I took Big Daddy Condiment to a local Italian restaurant. While they put out lovely little bottles of olive oil and balsamic vinegar(!), they didn't ever see fit to put bread on our table. Not that I could have any (trying to be gluten-free, you know, which plays havoc with trying dipping sauces. Sigh). But I did enjoy adding a balsamic element to my caesar salad. Deep-fried green beans were the appetizer of choice and they came with an interesting dipping sauce: a hot, sweet sauce that I'm used to experiencing with spring rolls. They were tasty, but the breading was a bit too thick and drowned the taste of the green beans.

However, I got to watch my father use the rest of the mixture to dip his steak into, even though it came with a cascade of sauteed onion sauce. You wonder how I became what I am.

Red wine vinegar - a true love

Last week, I made up a salad dressing involving olive oil, shallots, red wine vinegar and an almost nauseating amount of dijon mustard. And yet, and yet. It reminded me of a time when balsamic was but a word I glimpsed when gazing longingly at the Chez Panisse menu in my childhood. When red wine vinegar was the center and the light of my young world.

It's late and I need to post this, but I will get the recipe up in the next few days.

Condiment Grrl

Oh, Aunt Penny, how could you?

2007-03-18T21:20:00.000-07:00

Look at the can below. Doesn't it make you a little nostalgic for the days when you'd bop home in your paisley orange Ford Pinto , your eight-track player blaring "Frampton Comes Alive," groceries (in paper bags, natch) piled into your deadly trunk filled with foods that you had to prepare fast for your stone-cold fox of a date? You didn't have time to make a totally homemade dinner because you can have the town, why don't you take it, so you popped a can of Aunt Penny's into your bag, heated it and poured it over your asparagus, right before you turned the lights off and the lava lamp on. Then you and your date gently lifted the spoons to your mouth at the same time. As the hollandaise made it's way to your taste buds, you waited for the lemony, creamy joy. As you tasted the actual floury, chemical taste of this monstrosity, you stared at your date in horror, watching the bad bad flavors chase the look of lust off his face.

Okay, I got a little carried away with that intro and now the Mary Tyler Moore theme song is entrenched in my head and I'll be humming it for the foreseeable future. I've been hard on condiments in the past, but this travesty by FAR ranks as the worst thing I've tasted. I could barely dip one stalk of asparagus in it before I ran to the kitchen for my old standby, Lemon Dill and Caper sauce. I couldn't find any discernable flavor except for lard and flour. It's also choc-full-o' partially hydrogenated soybean oil and other bad chemicals.

Now, it's funny, as I type this I'm aware that even though I was a little kid through most of the 70s, it carries a lot of nostalgia for me (I'm listening to Cat Stevens as I type this). I miss its own brand of innocence, its self-involvement, and its feathered hair (although that's making a comeback).

But, honestly, condiment-wise, bring on the future. Back in the 70s, we didn't have the selection we have now of fennel-infused, cranberry scented, peppercorn be-studded taste treats that we can happily mate with our asparagus. And so much of what is produced today has mostly good ingredients!

Who can turn the world on with a smile? Not Aunt Penny.

Condiment Grrl

Why don't I like Roasted Red Peppers? Why?

2007-03-13T22:52:00.000-07:00

And why is it a main ingredient in so many otherwise tempting sauces? Many an otherwise enticing restaurant dish has turned me off when I see that the rub or garnish or marinade consists of roasted red bell pepper. The mustyish taste does NOTHING for me.

Short post. I'm still in a bit of pain. Again, I say sweet muscle relaxants.

Tonight, I was nibbling on huge, lucious red onion rings. I could have reached for the ketchup, but instead, I used the sauce provided -- a reddish, tasty-looking froth of roasted red peppers. I really tried.

I just don't like it. I like raw bell peppers, but I can't stand them cooked. Why? And why won't the rest of the world follow my lead and leave them out of sauces, so I can really live up to my charter and enjoy all condiments.

So many mysteries.

Condiment Grrl

Muscle Relaxants need no additional condiments

2007-03-11T20:28:00.000-07:00

It's painful for me to type right now. And I'm writing under the influence of a lovely muscle relaxant. Lovely, happy pills. I know that right now you're thinking "Condiment Grrl! What happened? Did you injure yourself trying to wrench the top off a hundred year old jar of caper relish?"

Alas, no.

I injured myself...uh...sleeping. Yes, last Thursday morning I awoke and stretched my arms over my head, and something bad happened in my shoulder. They don't know what to call it -- bursitis or tendonitis or something. But muscle relaxants make it all better....

In the meantime, I've been enjoying my new Greek thyme mustard and rediscovered my love of basic Dijon vinaigrette, especially when you liberally add shallots.

Okay, I am twitching and not in a good way. Keep wrenching those jars open for me!

Condiment Grrl

Aioli Pancakes!

2007-03-04T22:34:00.000-08:00

Not really, but there is a show that has totally entranced Baby Balsamic -- Mustard Pancakes!

Of course, you're saying to yourself right now "You let your child watch television? Say it isn't so, Condiment Grrl!" Yes, yes, I started out with a very purist attitude. Baby Balsamic would only play with toys made of wood from living trees that had lost a branch through age or winds, not the oppressive machinery of man. And we would never watch TV, but only spend hours reading wholesome books about nature when we weren't creating living butterfly farms out of organic hemp rope. Yeah, and then she turned 2. Suck it up, people. I'm as human as the rest of you.

And this show is on PBS where there's no commercials unless they're for Mobile Oil. And all she sees during those commercials are Elk frolicking with the joy of having a pipeline running through their terrain.

Okay, fine, I'm going to hell, but I NEED TO DRINK MY COFFEE SOMETIMES.

And I found this show on PBS that I thought at first was a rerun from the late 70s/early 80s. There's this woman in a living room with hideous furniture singing songs surrounded by three puppet dogs (one of whom is named Oogleberry Ink Dog) and one puppet cat. They sing about deep and meaningful things like spilling juice on the carpet and how butterflies in butterfly farms live short, brutish lives.

Really, between Courtney's haircut and clothing and the lighting, it really felt like a show that I used to watch when I was a kid. But it was sweet and it absolutely entranced Baby Balsamic. She loves songs sung on guitar, but it is done much better by her Great Auntie Jane Timberlake. Her "Silly Old Song" is Baby Balsamic's favorite song of all time. And there was something catch about the puppets getting down to songs that sounded a bit like Cat Stevens in his happy 60s druggie days.

And the show is sponsored by a mustard company! Morehouse Foods which apparently, according to their website, just won the Napa Valley Mustard competition this year. I did some grueling research (walked to my kitchen), only to discover that I don't own any Morehouse mustard, but the label is familiar, so I'm sure that I have been in possession at some point.

Now, I'm in a quandary -- what if I'm letting Baby Balsamic watch a show sponsored by a mustard that does not make my taste buds tingle in anticipation the way my new Greek mustard does (Zorba the Thyme mustard is very tasty)? What kind of message am I sending her? What kind of morals am I imparting to her impressionable brain?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go flush some more unfortunate butterflies down the toilet.

Condiment Grrl

P.S. No butterflies were harmed in the creation of this blog post.

Zorba's true name is....THYME!

2007-03-03T20:53:00.000-08:00

So, tonight, I finally twisted off the top of my mysterious Greek mustard (the only english writing on the label is "Balsoman") and dipped into it's exotic flavors. At first, I thought, "it's tarted up French's mustard." In other words, just typical mustard stuffed into a jar with lots of Greek writing. Then I realized, it wasn't quite as bitter as most mustards and there was a lingering flavor on the tongue. What was it? I took another bite of the breaded pork chop and pondered my lack of formal foodie training -- I can't take a sip of wine and be all "it has a berry start, then an oaky undertone with a hint of raisons and okra." Hmmm...okra wine. That would sit right next to the Lutefisk vodka on the grocery shelf.

I knew the flavor was herby -- rosemary or sage or some such. And I recognized it from my spice shelf, but it took me a minute to finally identify the mustard as a thyme mustard. And it was really good. I've heard tell there's a man at work who reads Greek, so I'm going to bring him the bottle and see if he can tell me what it says and we'll see if I'm right.

It went well with asparagus and I can't wait to try it with a roast chicken. Maybe I'll cut it with a little mayonnaise because I'm American and we must always have much fat in our diet.

Condiment Grrl

Zorba the Mustard!

2007-02-27T22:28:00.000-08:00

Short post tonight.

A co-worker just got back from Greece after dumping a ton of project work on me and disappearing. Blame HIM for me not blogging as much! In an email from the island of Crete (bastard), he promised me six types of Greek olive. And all I got was a lousy jar of mustard. Luckily for him, I love mustard and the label is all in Greek so I can't tell anything about it. Flavored? Plain? Who knows until I dip something into it and let it flavors sneak up my tongue and take me to foreign lands.

I still miss the olives. I asked him about them.

"Oh, you can get Kalamata anywhere! We had them with every meal! In every meal! While we were drinking ouzo!" Again, I say BASTARD.

But I have the mustard. I will report back when I know more.

Condiment Grrl

Interpretive Dance - the liquid gold of the Oscars

2007-02-26T22:29:00.000-08:00

It's not as fun to type as lutefisk, but as the arbiter of all that is condimental in this crazy world, I do declare that Interpretive Dance is a condiment for the Oscar ceremony.

I HEART the Oscars. I watch the arrivals and the entire ceremony every year with bated breath, waiting for the day I know Russell Crowe will wear a traditional Australian kilt to the ceremony. Don't email me with a correction -- this is my lurid fantasy. Now, THAT would be a condiment. Heh heh heh.

Okay, foraging on. So, every year I watch the Oscars and I devour the montages, tributes, dresses, faux paws, boobage, stupid songs (Sting with the old tyme roller thing?), and of course, the interpretive dance. All liquid diamond condiments poured over the solid chocolate Academy Award. The interpretive dance was back this year and it was actually innovative and interesting and really, really cool (C'mon, they did an interpretive Snakes on a Plane. Awesome.)

After, I am so sick of people bitching and whining and moaning about how boring and horrible the Oscars are and it gets worse every year and blah blah blah. Hey, it's the clue phone for you -- TURN THEM OFF IF YOU DON'T LIKE THEM. Don't complain about the montages -- it's a salute to film! The montages define the night! The montages rule! And Will Ferrell was actually funny! Shut up already!

Pass me my bacon wrapped figs with a olive relish and turn it up -- I think Celene Dion is going to smack Beyonce down.

Let me dream my balsamic dreams and mustard wishes. And Russell Crowe in a utilikilt.

Hooray for Hollywood!

Condiment Grrl

Lutefisk - the forgotten condiment

2007-02-26T22:09:00.000-08:00

Okay, I'm kidding about that, but I just spent a day at Ikea so Baby Balsamic could experience a dying art form in the midst of a burgeoning art form -- theater performed in the store. Three adorable playlets were presented at the entrance, in the children's furniture section and in one of those glamorous Ikea bedrooms. Baby Balsamic was entranced and attempted to make off with a prop -- the princess' tiara.

Of course, a day at Ikea would not be complete without a visit to their unique cafeteria experience. Baby Balsamic enjoyed two plates of meatballs. Yes, you read that right -- two plates. And she especially enjoyed dipping her meatballs and french fries in this raspberry sauce that was slopped onto the plate with the rest of the food. I savored the lox on a bed of greens with a mustard dill dipping sauce. And I discovered the language of mustard with dill is Universal: they were bottling this sauce in the store as a Swedish specialty. Well, I think Mr. Norman Bishop would have something to say about that! The bottles were tempting, but the sauce tasted pretty much just like Norman Bishop's Seafood Dill sauce so I passed. But I did buy a can of dried onions to dribble on a salad.

And the lutefisk did not tempt me in the least, but I like typing that word so I'm finding ways to work it into the blog post. Lutefisk, lutefisk, lutefisk. It's a great word, but even were it deep fried and offered up to me with an array of delectable dipping sauces including rosemary mayonnaise, garlic aioli, G*D mustard, Pickapeppa sauce and fine condimento balsamic vinegar, I would have none of it.

And yet, I will type it once again. Lutefisk. The uncondimentable food.

Condiment Grrl

A vinegar is a vinegar is a vinegar

2007-02-22T22:31:00.000-08:00

I know, I know, I haven't been posting as much as I promised. Stupid, stupid day job.

Anyway...I traipsed to the store today to buy some cookies for an afternoon meeting (it's a key strategy in the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People who Love Sugar). And I loaded up in the salad bar, piling my romaine lettuce high with beets, broccoli, kidney beans, artichoke hearts, and croutons (which I'm not supposed to have, if you've been keeping track of the short leash my naturopath attempts to keep me on). Now, I totally eschew store-made salad dressing. It's filled with sodium and never tastes very good unless it's blue cheese dressing and I can't have blue cheese (keep up, people, keep up). I drizzled my Dagwood Bumstead salad with some olive oil, then reached for the balsamic vinegar bottle.

But what's this? This is not straight balsamic vinegar -- it's some kind of balsamic vinegar dressing! How can this be? So, I walked right over to the vinegar section to buy my own bottle for work. You know, unless you're going for the super expensive stuff, just get the Colavita. Yes, it's all from Modena, but unless it's "Tradizionale" it's not the best stuff. I got the Colavita and it was perfectly good.

But I will not rest until I track down the store employee who put a pre-made Balsamic Vinaigrette in a Balsamic vinegar bottle. That's just sick and wrong.

Condiment Grrl

Ja love, Pickapeppa sauce

2007-02-16T22:24:00.000-08:00

I recently bought a bottle of Pickapeppa sauce for the first time in a few years. The thick, spicy, Worchesthureushire (yeah, I know I misspelled it) like sauce brings back memories of when I first relocated to Seattle and would visit friends who lived rurally on the outskirts of Tenino (hot spot: The Beaver Den!). They are beloved people in my life; Sara is a sister to me. And yet, their love for condiments was lacking back then.

I was literally broke, living on the edge, whoring myself to Kelly Girl to make a few bucks, and yet, I would stop at the store before I got to their house to be sure they had a few food staples, including Pickapeppa sauce. I was in a stage then where it was not breakfast without boiled eggs slathered with Pickapeppa sauce. Without the tangy sting on my tongue mellowed by the tepid egg, I would be in a foul mood all day long.

Another friend introduced me to Pickapeppa sauce at a chick's gathering (or Women's group or something similar) where she placed a plate with a quivering block of cream cheese surrounded by Triskets. She then approached the strange site with a pretty brown bottle with a parrot on it, opened it and poured it on the cream cheese, picked up a cracker and swiped it through the strange mound. My mouth is watering at the memory. The thick sweet/spicy sauce compliments cream cheese perfectly.

My naturopath said I'm not supposed to eat eggs. And yet. And yet. I checked the fridge to see if I had any eggs. Baby Balsamic asked "Whatchu doin' mama?"

I covered the eggs with my arm, "Seeing if we have eggs. You are in for a breakfast treat tomorrow morning."

BTW...RIP Beaver Den which closed years ago. Now there's one of those hideous "Fifties style" diners in its place.

Condiment Grrl

Baby Balsamic - Intrepid Dipper

2007-02-11T22:20:00.000-08:00

We all know that Baby Balsamic is MY daughter and as such, calls G*D mustard, "yellow sauce" and cranberry mustard "special ketchup." But, poor Big Mama Salsa took BB out to a Thai dinner and attempted to share chicken satay with her, but discovered that if it is something with a dipping sauce, BB will not share. She ate all the chicken satay and wouldn't touch the Pad Thai.

That's my baby girl.

Cilantro Chutney! Really? Hmmm....

2007-02-11T22:04:00.000-08:00

I discovered a new taste treat at my local fyne food market -- turkey samosas! And the turkey filling was flavorful and spicy and it's hard to go wrong with flaky pastry shells, but they supplied a cilantro chutney dipping sauce that added a light flavor to the heavy samosa. But I'm used to thinking about chutneys as being chunky sauces with chunks of strange vegetables that have been pickled in strange vinegars shipped in from exotic ports of call. But this was kind of like someone tossed some cilantro and water and a little lime juice into a blender and called it a chutney.

I just looked up a recipe on an Indian foods site, www.indianfoodsco.com, and it contained this list of ingredients:

1 bunch cilantro, fresh
1 or 2 small green chili, fresh, remove seeds
juice of one lime
salt to taste
1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds, roasted, ground
1 pinch of black pepper
1 tbsp. coriander powder

This chutney didn't taste like it had all these ingredients, but it was still good. I even stole an extra container to add to my morning rice and beans.

Condiment Grrl

A toast! Then a delightful burning...

2007-02-05T22:23:00.000-08:00

Doesn't that sound like a line from a lessor-known Noel Coward tune? The full lyric would go something like:

Clink spoons, not glasses, my dear
Laugh and face the light
Enjoy the substance similar to beer
But softer and cleaner, still a wicked plight

Hoist out your cracker by its own petard
Put down your pretty pursa
It's champagne with mustard!
Or vice versa

I thought it was quite good until I got to pursa. Ah well. That is why I am a Condiment Grrl and nothing else. Except a mother. And a writer. And I knit, badly.

I have no idea how long this jar of Champagne Mustard sitting before me has been opened. I can't remember opening it. Mr. Mustard can't remember opening it. It may just be one of those things that sweeps behind the coupling and co-housing of a couple, an object caught in the wake of the joining. Good lord, I'm poetic tonight. It's probably because of Prince's awesome performance in the Super Bowl.

Anyway, I've always kind of avoided it. It seemed just like a mediocre variety of a hot and sweet mustard. And why call it Champagne mustard? Is that just a food industry standard for a sweet mustard? I just read the label and saw that Champagne is an actual ingredient, which kind of surprised me. I thought it was just a flourish, not a real ingredient. The mustard itself is pretty straightforward, nothing that memorable, sweet, but not too much. It's a brand called Putney's and I mostly pulled it out because, HORRORS, I couldn't find any Dijon mustard for a salad dressing that I was making.

I went and searched the Mustard Museum website and I see that they have about 25 varieties of Champagne mustard including one from Norman Bishop. I am horrified that I didn't find out about it until now. Strange side note -- it includes White Wine, not Champagne.

This blog entry gets stranger yet. I just did a wikipedia search on "Champagne Mustard" and saw that they pulled up a reference to an episode of the greatest show EVER "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" as having a 3.9% match to my query (there's no entry for Champagne Mustard).

The episode summary contains this line: "In St. Petersburg, Russia, 1905, Anyanka and Halfrek dine on champagne after massacring a room full of men."

I sense another Noel Coward tune in the making...

Condiment Grrl

The Healing Power of Condiments

2007-02-02T22:47:00.000-08:00

I had sushi today for lunch and I know I've blogged before about the healing and restorative powers of the condiments that accompany sushi - wasabi and pickled ginger and soy sauce. But today, I was also craving lemon with my raw salmon. Really craving lemon. So, I bought a small lemon along with my sushi and consumed it, peel and all, along with my pork of the sea.

Now, all my naturopath-loving, vegan, hippie Berkeley-like friends would be like "Woah, it's like you're craving the Vitamin C or something. Wow, have you ever looked at your hand? I mean really looked at your hand?" And they would be right. I am fighting off a cold and when you're really looking down the yawning maw of a bad cold, that is when you must turn to the healing power of condiments.

Garlic, I mean, c'mon. Boring. Even the most sheltered Republican midwesterner who only shops at Piggly Wiggly (or whatever it's called), knows that garlic has lots of healing powers (the Weekly World News runs articles about it and the aliens who live in the Empire State Building all the time). And then there's ginger (covered with pickled ginger). And in my earliest blogs, I talked about the turmeric in mustard which has been found to stave off Alzheimer's. And lemon. And vinegar, which helps with weight loss and repulses vampires. Or is that mushrooms?

The whole point is that one reason to worship condiments as I do, is that they promote healing and general health. Especially when consumed with lots of red wine. Which stops heart attacks.

One more note on this, then I'll stop -- Cyclone Cider. Hailed as a restoritive, cure-all, it's basically a giant condiment experiment (like I used to do with my friends) gone oh-so-right.

Condiment Grrl.

The Condiment Mafia?

2007-01-29T22:25:00.000-08:00

Short blog entry (but hey -- I just did a long one yesterday so suck it up.)

So, I was looking over some comments and saw that there's another condiment lover blogging out there who's a representative for the Association of Sauces and Dressings. I checked out the website and it's an organization that's been around since 1926 representing Manufacturers and Suppliers of condiments, including the ingredients that create said condiments.

I'm going to research the website in greater detail and see if they set standards and how many small members they have. I did see that the people who make Norman Bishop mustards weren't members and I know they're smaller.

Anyway, it's a big and crazy condiment world out there. Be safe, people.

Condiment Grrl

Fondue Fun and a replacement for Smoky Cheddar Cheese

2007-01-28T19:57:00.000-08:00

First off, I am desperately sorry that I have not been blogging more frequently. Sad to say, writing about Condiments on a public blog, however entertaining, does not pay the astronomical wages that you might think and Condiment Grrl toils in a day job that has been taking its toll on her. And she's a little bitter that a co-worker was able to swan off to Holland for the same project that they're both working on, but he will be able to experience dutch condiments in full effect, especially those used for dipping those delicious frites sold on every street corner.

But I do try not to be bitter. Unless it's a tangy deglace giving fangs to a sweet meat.

Last week found me lurking again at the sample booth at Metropolitan Market because of one word - FONDUE WEEK! Okay that was two words, but let's be honest, I had you at fondue. Hunks of bread were emerging from a cauldron of smoke encased in a smoky cheddar fondue. Delectable! And then, a circle of glistening kielbasa appeared, drenched in the smoky cheddar fondue sauce. To paraphrase George Orwell, Super Plus Delectable! And conveniently, because this is how they get you to buy, they had the kielbasa and the smoky cheddar cheese stacked there for you to buy.

And the story gets better -- I am trying to watch my fat intake and I, like the good little consumer that I am, read the kielbasa package and discovered that the kielbasa has 65% less fat than usual kielbasa! Praise all the Gods that be forever and anon and stuff! And it was REALLY tasty kielbasa. And now you're saying to yourself, "Don't leave us hanging, Condiment Grrl, what brand was it?" Chickens, I'm sad to say that Mr. Mustard and I finished the package last night and I forgot to write it down. But I'll get to the store as soon as possible and buy some more, only for your edification, certainly not for mine.

Now, if you have all been diligent blog readers, you know that I am not supposed to have dairy. Yes, yes, I had my cornbread experience, but I really really have to be careful and I really hate having my crazy German naturopath yell at me ("Ze dairy will kill you!"). So, I couldn't get the smoky cheddar for the full fondue experience. While I was in the store, I scanned the condiment aisle, wishin' and hopin' and dreamin' for a smoky condiment substitute for the lactose intolerant. Nothing that would approximate my kielbasa experience in the store.

I got home and threw open my cupboards: I had to have something to dip my kielbasa into or my life was one long open pit of suffering and pain. Finally, I pulled a mustard that I had eaten before, but not really registered. Hot & Sweet Mendocino Mustard.

Now, we all have certain associations with Mendocino. Having traveled there periodically throughout the years, I think of it as a crazy stew of pot-loving hippies and craft craving post-yuppies. And they all like to eat gourmet. And it's a pretty amusing website and I am most impressed that they include testimonials and sell sample jars, which I have been complaining about. I'm now dying to try their seeds & suds mustard, too.

The hot & sweet mustard is just that and if I have learned nothing from my years of condiment tasting, it's that balance is everything. So many condiments try and combine different flavors to various degrees of success and sometimes it feels like they're just tossing strange flavors in to be able to sell to the widest possible market. But hot & sweet mustard is a very old recipe, harkening back to ancient China. And it can be done badly (see my blog entry on McDonald's dipping sauces). But this did something magical -- it combined the hot & sweet and created something more, something smoky, that didn't make me miss the cheddar cheese too much. And considering it's Mendocino and the range of interesting things that grow around there, there could be mystery ingredients galore.

I'm sitting here looking at the jar right now and wishing I had more kielbasa. Why did I share it with Mr. Mustard? Stupid Washington state and its community property laws.

Condiment Grrl

BACON DOUGHNUTS!!!!!!!!

2007-01-22T22:31:00.000-08:00

Okay, technically, bacon is *not* a condiment, but considering that I use it to spice up oatmeal, it is. And you can sprinkle it in salads and other things. And my wonderful Aunt Ann gave me this bacon recipe that calls for baking it with a sprinkle of brown sugar, cayenne pepper and black pepper, which turns it into a superfood AND a condiment.

Tonight, we were watching Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations and he was exploring the Pacific Northwest. In his travels through Portland, he ended up at this place called Voodoo Doughnut. As the camera panned over mountains of doughnuts with intriguing toppings such as fruit loops and oreos, I was interested, but not salivating. Then this appeared on the screen:

It's a BACON MAPLE BAR! It's like pancakes and syrup and bacon all deep fried into a high fat mass of happiness. I am OUT OF MY MIND to try one of these. OUT OF MY MIND!!

Somehow, some way, I have to get to Portland and soon.

If I walked there, I might burn off the calories I'll ingest eating one of them. But oh-so-worth it.

Condiment Grrl

Why I'm divorcing Mr. Mustard...

2007-01-21T20:35:00.000-08:00

So, if you read my previous post about chili, you'll have noticed a few pointed remarks about cornbread.

Let me explain.

There's this wonderful store, Metropolitan Market where I love to wander the aisles and fondle the products. My one quibble is that they don't carry Norman Bishop's G*D mustard. But, they do have an open olive bar that Baby Balsamic loves to sample everytime we visit, so I'll give them a pass on this one transgression.

In the evenings, they often have a food specialist preparing recipes and serving samples. And it's miles above your standard Costco pizza-on-a-stick offering (although that is tasty). They often have foodstuffs such as Creamy Polenta and cilantro salsa over blackened Salmon. The other day, I wandered by and saw the chef preparing samples of something, but I was confused because they had out stacks and stacks of Stonewall Kitchen Garlic and Onion Jam, but they weren't offering dipping like things. Then this cornbread appeared. This steaming, beautiful cornbread. I took a bite and almost passed out on the floor. It transcended the earthly definition of cornbread. It was like this was the true cornbread, conceived in a heavenly domain, but kept from us meer mortals because we're not worthy.

But that day, I was worthy. And they had the recipes printed out for the general public. I grabbed one and eagerly scanned it and guess what the secret ingredient was? Garlic and Onion Jam!

I rarely bake, but I had to make it, so I lovingly tossed all the ingredients together and was able to produce it in my very own kitchen. And it was as good as it had been in the store. It's sweet and savory and moister than your usual cornbread and the recipe calls for canned or frozen roasted corn to be added, so you get these smoky bursts of corn flavor shot through your bread experience.

Somewhere, my poor crazy German Naturopath who ordered me to refrain from corn, wheat and dairy is screaming in anger at me because the recipe contains all these things. And I'm going to post it for all of you.

BUT YOU MUST PROMISE ME THAT IF YOU MAKE IT, YOU WILL TELL ME HOW YOU LIKE IT.

Mr. Mustard didn't care for it because he likes his cornbread "dry." Sometimes, it's like I don't even know the man I married.

Trust me. It's amazing cornbread.

House Secret Buttermilk Cornbread
Makes 16 square

1 cup cornmeal (I used blue. It was pretty!)
3/4 cup unbleached flour
1 tbsp chile powder
1 tbsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking soda
1 cup buttermilk (I used lowfat)
2 eggs (oh yeah, my Naturopath told me to stay away from eggs too. Oops!)
4 tbsp unsalted butter, melted
3/4 cup prepared savory jam (like Garlic and Onion Jam!)
1 cup fresh or frozen corn, defrosted and blotted dry

Step 1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Grease 9x9 baking pan.

Step 2. Mix cornmeal, flour, chile powder, baking powder, salt, and baking soda in a bowl; stirring to blend. Beat buttermilk and eggs together. Heat butter until melted, stir in jam, and then stir in corn. Blend with buttermilk mixture.

Step 3. Combine wet ingredients (sounds naughty!) with dry ingredients; stirring just to blend. Do not over mix. Bake in oven until a knife inserted in center comes out clean and the cornbread is a golden color, 20 to 25 minutes.

That's it. And don't feed it to your ungrateful spouse, partner, girlfriend, boyfriend, or person you met at a bar.

Condiment Grrl

Why I love Mr. Mustard...

2007-01-21T20:09:00.000-08:00

After my sincere New Year's resolution to blog daily, I see that I have yet again fallen down on my duties. Sigh. We've had a lot of snow and ice here and Condiment Grrl doesn't do snow and ice. It makes me tired and crabby and I take lots of baths and stare balefully at Baby Balsamic's rubber duck collection wondering why I still don't live in California.

I don't allow myself to think of much else.

But, the snow and ice did lead to one lovely discovery. I decided that we had to have chili and we ended up with a lovely pot of chili (with heavenly cornbread, but that's in the next post) that only needed a handful of chopped onions to be edibly acceptable.

The next morning, as Mr. Mustard and I read the paper while Baby Balsamic enjoyed the antics of Maisy Mouse and her friends on the demon television. I noticed a bottle of French's mustard left out from the night before. It startled me, because I usually keep a sharp eye on the condiments in our household.

"What's this? Why is this out?" I asked Mr. Mustard.

"Oh," he said, turning to the crossword puzzle, "I put that in the chili."

Mustard in chili? Why had I not thought of this? It seems so obvious now; I love chili dogs and those have mustard and onions on them. Remove the hot dog and the bun and you have chili with mustard!

As soon as he said it, my mouth started to water. The tangy mustard would pep up the tomato-heavy chili just right. And with some chopped red onion....yum! At lunchtime, I sat down to my own bowl of chili, added a ribbon of French's and a sprinkle of onions and then I was able to look out at the sparlking white snow and not be as crabby.

And I knew why I had married Mr. Mustard.

Then I noticed that Mr. Mustard wasn't eating any of the delicious cornbread I had made the night before with his chili and I knew trouble was brewing.

But I'll save that for the next post.

Condiment Grrl.

Adieu, bitter Bordeaux

2007-01-16T22:51:00.000-08:00

Mr. Mustard and I are having steak the other night, so I decide to riffle through the fridge and be a bit adventurous in my accompaniment. I discover a Trader Joe's Bordeaux sauce, which promises "hearty and robust flavor with a hint of black truffles." The bottle is a bit cheap looking -- an interesting shape, but the label font screams "bitter ex-avant garde artist from the late 80s who sold out and watches classic MTV in the dead of night." But I do love my Trader Joe's products -- Baby Balsamic exists almost exclusively on their chicken nuggets and soy corn dogs.

Bordeaux or Bordelaise sauce is (from wikipedia, natch) "a classic French sauce named for the great wine area of Bordeaux. The sauce is made with red wine, bone marrow, shallots and a rich brown sauce called demi-glace." The ingredients on my bottle include red wine, water, modified food starch, beef flavor, wheat flour, wine powder...and at the very end: black truffles and anise.

And now I have a horrible confession to make. I pulled this bottle out of the fridge last night, tasted it, was disgusted (it tasted like a hobo wandered into wine country and vomited bad mushrooms on the ground), and decided to toss it since I already have so much in my fridge. It's sat out for the last day and night, it contains beef products, so it's now bad. And it's only now, when I turned it on its side to read the ingredients that I notice the HEATING INSTRUCTIONS: Simply heat and simmer over low heat for 2-3 minutes Stir occasionally. Serve over cooked meat. Optional: stir in 1 oz. butter.

I'm a fool. A sad, pathetic fool. Maybe if I had prepared this correctly, its musty flavor might have deepened and given happy depths to my steak. Instead it's just me and my hubris.

And I have to throw the bottle away. Oh, Trader Joe, will you forgive me? And how will I convince Mr. Mustard to buy another bottle the next time he goes to TJs?

Bad, bad Condiment Grrl

Winter is a time for reflection and cleansing...

2007-01-12T15:23:00.000-08:00

I've eaten no new condiments over the last couple days. I've just wearily contemplated the approximately 93858489 open jars and bottles in my fridge that I'm not going to eat. I curse the copy writers who created such attractive labels that caused me to purchase a lime cocktail sauce or a supposedly hot salsa. Curse you! I wish I could send these opened and slightly used jars and bottles to your houses to fester there.

You know what we need? More tiny sample bottles. A few varieties of mustard, like Stonewall Kitchen (look up the link yourself on the sidebar. I'm tired and cranky), do sell a selection of their products in almost Hello Kitty sized containers. Often tasteful, always adorable. But most of the time, if I want to try something, I have to by at least 8 ounces of it.

And, to be truthful because winter is a time of self-reflection and deep, dark, true mugs of hot chocolate, there are some that I've opened and enjoyed, but not enough to keep using at the rate they require. I waste food.

Or do I? I'm contemplating a monthly party where I would put out all of my condiment varietals, invite people over, and let them have at it with bread and vegetables and fried meats.

In the meantime, I will just blur my eyes when I open the fridge and reach for the ketchup.

Condiment Grrl

Weight Watchers and a Mother's Love...

2007-01-10T23:20:00.000-08:00

So, Condiment Grrl went a little hog-wild over the holidays and imbibed far too many cream and egg based sauces. And maybe a succelent piece of fried meat or two too many. Whatever, but with the new year comes a hard look at my waistline and it's back onto Weight Watchers.

One thing you have to keep an eagle-eye on when you're dieting is the sauces and extras you put on your food. You may be adding more calories and fat than you think. For instance, tonight, we enjoyed salmon (1/2 a fillet is 7 WW points!). And when I enjoy salmon, I very much enjoy my salmon sauce -- usually a Dill Seafood sauce from, who else, Norman Bishop. But I checked out the point content and found that I could either have a glass of wine or an additional tablespoon of the Dill Seafood sauce. Dilemna! I mean, it shouldn't be, I'm Condiment Grrl, not Boozy Wino Grrl. Hmmm...there's a new blog idea. But, I need my red wine. So, I mixed some G*D mustard in with the Dill Seafood.

The Dill Garlic mustard is amazing. It tastes creamy, but it has only wholesome ingredients and NO WEIGHT WATCHERS POINTS. It really, like that chocolate sauce that turns into a shell over ice cream, is a miracle of nature.

Now, we all know how much I adore and dote on Baby Balsamic. She's the apple of my eye. And tonight, we were both enjoying carrots and dipping them into G*D mustard and she kept demanding "another carrot!" and "more sauce!" until she almost consumed half of one of my precious jars.

I guess when it comes down to it, I love Baby Balsamic and red wine almost as much as all my condiments.

But no chocolate sauce over ice cream for me for awhile. Sigh.

Condiment Grrl

A salute to a salty brother...

2007-01-08T22:54:00.000-08:00

Here's a vivid example of my twisted roots. My lifelong friend Damon has always had an odd relationship to condiments. Seeing what he could eat at Denny's for free, which usually involved the condiments on the table, was a specialty of his.

Now he's a Professor of Genetic Biology at Berkeley and he requested his nickname be Doctor A-1. I wanted to call him Captain A-1, but what-ever. What kind of fiendish experiments does he cook up? Let's find out in this vivid photo essay...

Mmmm...this hot sauce looks delicious! And with it's key ingredient of capucin found in red peppers, it ensures I will never grow senile or develop Alzheimer's. Plus, the babes think I'm way manly!

>

How YOU doin', baby? Could you burn my tongue too?

Try it. You'll like it.

And now I will corrupt my young son.

We tried a really good Teriyaki A-1 and a bold mustard. He didn't like the Teriyaki, but that's why he's a Doctor and not a Captain!

Re-discovering a first love...

2007-01-06T22:27:00.000-08:00

Remember the first time you fell in love? I mean really, REALLY fell in love, the total, I will be with you the rest of my life and be buried with you (or shot into space or whatever they'll be doing by the time I pass onto the great mustard store in the sky). That's how it used to be with me and red wine vinegar. It was young love, so it was destined to fail. I would be destined to meet another, deeper, older, perhaps richer (not that I'm shallow) and leave behind my first love.

But, oh, my love was strong and true and deep. As a child, I would drink this vinegar for a special treat. I would sneak out of bed in the middle of the night and stir together vinegar, ketchup, and mayonnaise in one of those glasses they used to sell prawn cocktails in and surreptiously slurp it while devouring a Nancy Drew.

When I was 16, I took a trip to England and saw lots of history and plays and culture and stuff, but what I really remember is making a vinaigrette out of wine vinegar and powdered mustard.

Memories. Sweet memories.

Then of course, Balsamic vinegar hit me like a ton of bricks and I haven't been as much of a vinegar swinger as I am a mustard player. Oh, I'll dabble sometimes, especially with the fruity variety (heh). But now, it's the rare red wine vinaigrette that satisfies me.

Tonight, Mr. Mustard prepared a Jambalaya with a side of collard greens. A taste tickled my subconscious and I found myself in the kitchen digging through my jars and bottles to see if I had a red wine vinegar. I had only a teaspoonful in one last bottle and I poured it on the greens and as I mulled the tart accent to the earthy greens, I realized that maybe I needed to call up my old love again. Maybe go out once or twice for old times sake. It won't be like it was in my extreme youth, but nothing could be like that. It was a rare, heady time.

But, I might sneak to the kitchen in the middle of a night this week and mix up some ketchup, mayonnaise and vinegar. It would be nice if I had an old prawn cocktail glass, but life does move on.

But I do have time to slurp an old friend.

Condiment Grrl

I didn't say it would be long...

2007-01-05T22:51:00.000-08:00

Just a post. And here are my few words of wisdom for today:

Chocolate sauce is a condiment. And you can eat it off the spoon, without ice cream. I am on a diet, after all.

Condiment GRRL

I am not affiliated with Condiment Girls

2007-01-04T23:04:00.000-08:00

Tonight I was in the process of re-registering my condimentgrrl domain and decided that I better register condimentgirl as well and discovered, to my horror, that it's already registered to a site selling soft-pornish calendars with lovely ladies posing erotically with condiments. Now I've got nothing against either soft porn or condiments or both of them used in combination, but I just feel cheapened somehow.

My mission is to spread and deepen the love and appreciation of condiments. I'm not "looking to get a step on life and pursue modeling."

Now I'm thinking about changing my name. Suggestions are totally welcome.

Sigh. Big sigh.

Condiment GRRL

Stocking Condiment the First

2007-01-03T23:00:00.000-08:00

As you may have already figured out, I am a strange one. As a child, I received jars of pepperoncini and olives in my easter baskets and christmas stockings. And now that I've grown up, Santa has grown up with my tastes and delivers me a new condiment or two in my stocking. No coal for Condiment Grrl!

I received a jar of Garlic with sun-dried tomatoes. Please note that I always capitalize Garlic. It's a sacred thing. It's a oily paste with chunks of garlic and sun-dried tomatoes. And that's about it. And you know something -- it doesn't need anything else. This item is smart enough to get the hell out of the way of flavors that don't need a lot of fixin', if you know what I mean. It's rich and flavorful and went really well with a piece of salami that Big Daddy Condiment was kind enough to leave in my refridgerator when he stayed over the holidays.

There is one thing that upsets me. We all know how crap I am at taking food photos for this blog. I really suck, as evidence of posts back will show you time and time again. So, lately I've been going to the website of the product I'm talking about to get a product photo.

Here's the "official" photo of this product:

Tell me I couldn't do better. It's all dark and weird.

They offer a lot of suggestions for ways to use this great mixture - stir-frying with chicken and pasta, swiped onto petite french breadlets, but my favorite, which I have yet to try, but it's intriguing is "stir into creamy ranch salad dressing or a vinaigrette." Also, I think this might be really good with gnocchi or baked potatoes. Or just spooned right out of the jar, but eating straight Garlic isn't for the faint of heart.

Condiment Grrl

Happy New Year!

2007-01-02T23:01:00.000-08:00

Goodness chickens, it's a new year and I've just been dithering away the holidays shopping for a Barbie for Baby Balsamic, partaking of the dipping sauce of good cheer, and bickering with Big Mama Salsa and Mr. Mustard. I probably needed to eat more ketchup as, per the ketchup advisory board (a brilliant Prairie Home Companion bit), ketchup has "natural mellowing agents." Everyone should just chill the f&ck out a little more, especially during the holidays.

However, in addition to the return of the sun and the birth of baby Jesus and all that, the holiday also gives us an excellent chance to enjoy new condiments. I have a few to blog about over the next couple days, but first off, let me say that one of my New Year's resolutions is to blog every. Single. Day. That's right. Everyday, I will be dispensing lucious words of tart wisdom. Or just complaining bitterly about a disappointing jar.

Which brings us to the topic of tonight's post. We all know of my love for Lemon Dill Caper sauce by Robert Rothschild farms. It's light, tangy and creamy and just gooses the hell out of a drab roast chicken. Tonight, after eight hours of travel, Mr. Mustard was exceedingly crabby and insisted on ready-made Prime Rib for dinner. I was fine with that and to celebrate our return to town, I tossed a jar of Garlic and Onion Horseradish Dip by Robert Rothschild. I sat down to enjoy and instead found myself dipping my beef into a hot horseradish with no hint of other flavors and, adding injury to insult, more fat and calories than just plain horseradish. So I got fatter without enjoying myself. It was just hot and a little thinner than just plain creamy style horseradish, so the texture wasn't even enjoyable.

More about texture in later posts. It's a key aspect to condiment enjoyment that's rarely explored.

I ended up adding a few spoonfuls of Norman Bishop G*D mustard to make it edible (and less fat!).

You know how I wrote about Norman Bishop and the biopic with Russel Crowe in a country kitchen? Well, Robert Rothschild would be played by a prissier British actor, who we think we hate, but then we see him slip an extra fifty to the down-and-out Polish housemaid and we see a soft side (Lemon Dill Caper sauce). But then we see him berate his houseboy for not buffing his shoes to an appropriate shine (Onion and Garlic Horseradish Dip).

Of course they also make something called "Chocolate Martini Cheese Ball and Dip. And I love Chocolate Martinis, so I will date Robert again, but I will be prepared to catch a taxi home, if you know what I mean.

Happy New Year to all of you. May all your condiment dreams come true in 2007!

And feel free to spank me if I don't put up a new post tomorrow.

Condiment Grrl

Santa Claus is a Red Man

2006-12-10T22:19:00.000-08:00

I am SO SORRY, my dear devoted readers, that I have not posted a new entry in over two weeks. Between the holidays and tending to the needs of my playwriting students, I have not had a moment to call my own.

But with all the moments I have, I must sing the praises of my dear Baby Balsamic. I am raising her with the right values and a deep love of condiments. She sees me snacking on pickled garlic and she wants some pickled garlic. She wants me to feed her Norman Bishop G*D mustard by the spoonful. She eats salads with liberal amounts of balsamic vinaigrette (homemade by me, of course. Do you think I would give my daughter BOTTLED salad dressing? Do you think I want her taken away from me?)

And she's adventurous. Last week, Baby Balsamic and I were out to dinner with Big Daddy condiment at Red Robin. A place not known for its condiments, but it had a decent lime mayonnaise that accompanied a chicken dish (it needed more lime, honestly, but I've had worse). And they had a bottle of special "Red Robin spice" on each table. Curious, I perused the ingredient list. It's basically one of those "salt substitutes" with paprika, celery salt, and other granules of flavor. But now that I think about it, it did have salt in it, so it wasn't really a salt substitute and more of a kitschy token to their version of fine dining. I tipped some into my hand, and Baby Balsamic, ever on it, my little condiment-loving Robin to my saucy Batman, insisted on her own little taste. She tentatively licked it, then announced it was "spicy." The food wasn't great, but they gave Baby Balsamic a balloon so she declared it a "great rest-rant."

And now, for the title of this post, which has nothing to do with condiments, but what is a blog without occasionally submitting the reader to stories of adorable children. And I know, they're usually stupid, but this is a good man.

While decorating our tree last night, I was playing the John Waters Christmas Album which has a great song on it called "Santa Claus is a Black Man." I was singing the chorus and Baby Balsamic looked up at me and said, indignantly, "Santa Claus is a RED man!"

But hopefully, not a Red Robin man.

Condiment Grrl

Give Thanks...

2006-11-22T21:43:00.000-08:00

We all have many blessings in our lives that we can give thanks for. Since this is a blog about condiments, I must give thanks for all the fine sauces, relishes, spices and thick savory syrups that make my life so rich and meaningful.

Where would I be without:

-- Norman Bishop's Dill and Garlic mustard
-- Holy Jalepeno relish
-- pickled garlic (a taste treat that Baby Balsamic also relishes)
-- Balsamic vinegar, especially the delicious kind procured in Italy
-- Sun-dried tomato pesto

And the simple things like French's mustard. And ketchup.

Tonight I partook of a cracked crab and had the great good fortune to experience a new kind of cocktail sauce -- Stonewall Kitchen's Lemon Dill variety. Now, I am a big fan of Stonewall Kitchen's other products, but I begin to think you shouldn't mess too much with cocktail sauce. Take your ketchup and your horseradish, maybe some Worcestershire and you got a friendly ride for most seafood. This version was a little sweet, a little too subtle. I ended up mixing it with a mustard/mayo mixture and that was quite good, but you know, you could add pureed okra to creamy mayonnaise and have a taste treat. It's MAYONNAISE.

I guess I forgot to give thanks for mayonnaise. And I give thanks for myself being too lazy to try and make it myself too often, because it rocks the house when it's homemade and it has more calories than a McDonald's Happy Meal.

I give thanks for the little things that make our lives better, like a Tori Amos song coming on the radio or my kitty cat lying on top of me without poking his butt in my face and a hot bath on a cold day. And my little Baby Balsamic. She is truly my condiment delight.

Have a great Thanksgiving. And my advice is -- don't eschew the canned cranberry sauce. I've grown quite attached to it. The sweetness brightens up the heaviest of gravies.

I would do anything for condiments...

2006-11-14T23:03:00.000-08:00

The title of tonight's post is brought to you courtesy of that great artiste of American Rock n' Roll - whose name is synonymous with that of a tasty dish that can soak up all kinds of condiments - MEATLOAF!

I'm in a reflective mood, so this will ramble a bit. This last weekend, I had a dear old friend over for dinner who recently started reading my blog.

"I like your blog, but I fear it will make me spend too much money. All those condiments look so good and they're so expensive."

My hand froze in mid-air, hovering over the jar of Silver Palate Hot Stuff Salsa that I received as a birthday gift. Am I a snob? Do I only revel in expensive condiments that might be enjoyed by Donald Trump and Paris Hilton as they tango on writhing masses of the poor? This cannot be. I am a girl of the people.

This Hot Stuff Salsa -- good, spicy, but not amazing -- retails for about $4.69. That's not a lot, is it? I mean, I have been known to purchase $30 bottles of balsamic vinegars, but that's different. Because I drink it while reading about the suffering of the writhing masses of the poor.

But I don't just recommend expensive condiments. I've carried on about ketchup and plain old French's mustard. Tonight, while dining out with friends, Mr. Mustard, Baby Balsamic and I enjoyed a simple swipe of bread through a plate sprinkled with balsamic vinegar, olive oil and salt. This was at a mid-range Italian restaurant and the bread liquids were not of the finest quality, but I found it the perfect end to a cold day. But I did briefly long for my expensive balsamic.

Then as I listened to the delighted screams of our friends' one year old daughter and Baby Balsamic while dipping their chicken nuggets (Baby Balsamic's favorite. It's because it involves dipping sauce) into a little bowl of ranch sauce, I realized that condiments is not about expense -- it's about what you're dipping and who you're dipping it with.

But remember, practice safe dipping.

Condiment Grrl

Fall flavored Condiments...

2006-11-10T22:40:00.000-08:00

Hello dear readers,

I have now recovered from all the hoopla and excitement of the midterm elections. While Condiment Grrl believes that red staters and blue staters enjoy condiments equally, she is a deep shade of Indigo Blue when it comes to politics so she is as giddy as she would be if ten jars of Holy Jalepeno relish got delivered to her door, along with a cooked succelent leg of lamb. And Russel Crowe covered in Cranberry mustard with a bow...well, anyway, this brings me to this posting: Fall approaches and new condiments flood the shelves ready to lure us into the new season and new possibilities for our Thanksgiving relish tray.

First off -- cranberries are everywhere, insinuating them along with their cousin, pumpkin spice, into our lattes, pies, bruschetta and flans. I like a nice tart glaze on many meats, but I'm usually pretty indifferent to cranberries, preferring the more traditional Ocean Spray cranberry sauce in a can to any wild creations involving Martha Stewart peeling and juicing 17 cranberries before adding them to her turkish yule log.

But, I love Fall and I made a new discovery -- orange flavored dried cranberries. I sprinkled them in a salad with blue cheese and turkey and the tangy burst of the holidays to come made my quickie lunch all the more festive.

What are your Fall favorites? I'll blog more about the variety of seasonal condiments that we'll have access to during the next couple months.

I'm blue. So very blue.

Condiment Grrl

I got condiments in low places

2006-10-30T22:59:00.000-08:00

So, last week, I was fortunate enough to dine at a fine Renton establishment called Jimmy Mac's Roadhouse. Steaks, beer (not that we indulged; it was a WORK lunch), and peanuts on the floor. I enjoy these restaurants -- I usually know exactly what I'm going to get and they have the foresight to provide one of the greatest additions to the bar and grill experience: the condiment six-pack. You know what I'm talking about -- they take a beer six-pack holder and toss in green and red tabasco sauces, ketchup (natch), mustard, and whatever else might be the appropriate escort of your food. Malt vinegar in fish and chips place. And Heinz 57 in the case of Jimmy Mac's. But they had a condiment I had yet to taste: spicy Heinz 57 which leads me to one of my conclusions of the week: Spicy is the New Black. Everything has a new spicy version these days (except the Spice Girls. R.I.P Ladies). Sometimes the spicy moniker is deceiving; it appears they just added some reddish tomatoey flavor and called it "hot." Well, you can try and sex up Clay Aiken that way, but that dog just don't hunt. This spicy Heinz had a bit of kick and livened up my steak considerably.

Then today, I had to be up in the land of wealth, shallowness and scary fake tans known as Bellevue, so I visited a place I had been eyeing on the Internet for months: Porcella Urban Market. There was a very encouraging review in the Seattle P-I awhile back and it sounded like the place of my dreams: homemade meats, fancy schmancy salads and lots and lots of high-end condiments for sale.

Now, as Mr. Mustard will be the first to point out to anyone who asks, I spend entirely too much money on condiments. I will willingly dish out $7-$8 for jars of some of my favorite staples. But this Urban Market stretched even my spendthriftiness - $17 for a tiny tin of Fennel salt? And they didn't even have that much selection. Lots of strange condiments that befuddled but did not beguile. Grape must with pumpkin? No description of possible uses, no decent copy. Just...."grape must with pumpkin?" What the hell? Now, I know that you, my devoted readers, know that balsamic vinegar is made from grape must, but I don't believe your average Bellevue-ian would know something like that.

I got a very good chicken sandwich, with subtle rosemary accents and a crunchy bad of homemade chips accompanied it, but there was something hollow in the entire experience.

I needed to drown my sorrows in a corn syrup loaded six-pack of low rent condiments. Thank the goddess for Heinz.

Yours in eternal spiciness,

Condiment Grrl

Tiger Sauce and friendship

2006-10-23T22:58:00.000-07:00

Hello my ducks,

I'm back and better than ever! I raised lots of money for charity (but not, unfortunately, my favorite charity "condiments for tots") and I got to say "Pimp" a lot in my most conservative workplace. What more could a girl ask for?

Friends, say I!

Recently, I had a lovely dinner with two old friends and I am still marveling that we are now old friends because it seems like just yesterday that we were new friends slaving in a cold theater to bring cutting-edge theater to dozens of Seattle residents. But things happen and time passes and suddenly you're all married and two of you have kids and the third has one on the way.

My friends Sara and Anna and I recently broke meatloaf together, a fine meat dish to savor while discussing the fine points of birth and child-rearing. As we sat down, Sara, who's huge and beautiful and glowing with pregnancy, leapt up and said "Have you tried Tiger sauce? I got this for you!" Now, dear readers, I had coveted this sauce, but even I have my limits and for one reason or another, I never wrestled the savage looking bottle into my shopping cart.

But Sara did. And it's one of the myriad reasons that I love her. She's kind and thoughtful, even in the midst of one of the biggest life-changing events a human being can experience. I opened the bottle and looked into the snapping black eyes of Anna and the round soft eyes of Sara and thought of how much I value these two human beings in my life and friends are the ultimate life condiment. They can make the most dismal day a fine one with a sprinkling of their love.

Now for the Tiger sauce. It was delicious. It's like a bottle of Tabasco humped a jar of sweet and sour sauce and produced this adorable bastard love child. It was perfect on the meatloaf AND the mashed potatoes.

Later, after Sara served us home-made ice cream with melted chocolate chips, I patted her belly, her belly that is growing a little girl and whispered the nickname I will always secretly give the child, "Tiger."

Can't wait to meet you Tiger. Your mother is a great life condiment.

Condiment Grrl

Condiments are Eternal, but Condiment Grrl is Busy...

2006-10-15T22:50:00.000-07:00

this week organizing a giant charity event for her workplace, so you must soldier on without me for a little bit longer.

Here's a tip -- Tabasco always works.

xo
Condiment Grrl

Italy - The Greatest Country On Earth

2006-10-06T23:06:00.000-07:00

I say this because my dear friend Ruth just came back from a visit there and between strolling the cobblestoned streets of Medeival walled towns and swilling local wine, she managed to procure a beautiful bottle of balsamic vinegar made in Tuscany.

Now, for those of you poor, ignorant, unwashed masses not in the know as to how Balsamic Vinegar is created, just sit right back and you'll hear a tale. A tale of a substance known as grape must, which contains the stems and stuff of grapes. See how smart and technical I am? Anyhoo, they crush this must into a delicious juice, then pour it into a big oak barrel. After a lot of time has passed, the juice has reduced, so they then put it into another smaller barrel of a different kind of wood, time passes again, then they put it into another, smaller barrel. The process continues for five hundred years, at which point they pour the thimblefull of balsamic vinegar into a jar, then start again.

Anyway, you get the point. A lot of the balsamic vinegar sold in America now is pretty much red wine vinegar with sugar added.

So I have this adorable bottle of balsamic vinegar, which I think, "Well, it's probably fine, but not that good." Silly, silly Condiment Grrl. I opened the bottle, pulled the cork and poured out a sip and was instantly transported to Italy, to a storeroom filled with ripe oak barrels. The door is swung open and there is Norman Bishop, as played by Russell Crowe. And he has more than a thimblefull of balsamic vinegar...

Okay, I've put a stop to the sexy segue because this is a family blog. Think of the children, Condiment Grrl!

This balsamic vinegar is AMAZING. It was better than the shots of balsamic vinegar that Mr. Mustard and I paid $15 apiece for at a magnificent dinner we enjoyed last Christmas holiday at Oliveto. And the bottle was mine, all mine! We had lambchops tonight and, as I was out of my favorite Holy Jalepeno jelly, then I made do with a tiny dish of my new happy elixir to dip the lucious baby sheep in.

This was all good, because I had a horrible, very bad, no good day filled with teenagers, irate co-workers and far too much Seattle traffic. And let me just say that if anyone has a problem with me, your beloved Condiment Grrl from who all saucy goodness flows, then tell me. Don't go complaining to the Blog police.

Of course, the first thing I thought of was "where can I get more of this stuff?" So, using my good friend Google, I found the maker Emporio Delle Fattore. After futzing around a bit, I did have some luck finding an English version of the website, but I'm going to let you do that yourself if you're interested.

They have all kinds of delicous sounding things on the website, but they're all in Italian! Listen to this: "Mostarda di frutta fresca" which translates, according to Google, to "Mostarda of fresh fruit." What? Fresh fruit mustard? This, I must try. Or this: "Purè di tartufi bianchi T. Magnatum in tubetto" - doesn't that sound fabulous? Like a pate created with a white champagne in a tube. This translates to "Also of tartufi white men T. Magnatum in tubetto." This sounds like a pate created from Magnum P.I. In a tube, nonetheless.

Nevertheless I will order from the site and find out what these secretive goodies are. All in the name of research.

Tutti frutti,

Condiment Grrl

Condiments in the Wild...

2006-10-04T22:58:00.000-07:00

As birthday celebrations for Big Mama Salsa's 70th have continued, I have spent more time imbibing condiments than writing about them.

I must give a special shout out to my Aunt Ann who is the most marvelous cook in the entire world. Baby Balsamic and I were fortunate enough to dine at her home where we enjoyed a delicious roast beef with a heavenly, light horseradish sauce. And a pork roast with a peach chutney. And pouched pears with a side of lemon mousse.

So, I have been remiss in blogging. But I am catching up, because this is what sustains me. What makes me whole.

The whole weekend was spent dining and drinking and enjoying the companionship of friends and family, who are truly the perfect condiment to a life. I know I'm getting a little woo-woo, but just as a dollop of the right mustard can send me on a fast ship to ecstasy moon, a glass of wine and a game of scrabble with those I love creates the perfect topping to a fun evening.

Happy 70th, Big Mama Salsa!

Condiment Grrl in Vegas, Part I

2006-09-26T22:46:00.000-07:00

So, Condiment Grrl went to Vegas, baby, Vegas. And she's still tired and can barely hold her head up to type to you, devoted readers. But she persists. And she will blog about condiments in Vegas.

And here's my review: Eh. Vegas isn't about condiments. It's about glitz and huge, giant, over-the-top capitalist craziness that is more reminiscent of Rome before the Fall. My god, I'm still having dreams about New York, New York. It's such a twisted, cleaned-up replica of New York that you can't help but be captivated by it's tiny Central Park and it's Greenwich Village ala Munchkinland. But here's the thing, we went on Saturday morning looking for bagels. Thinking, that of all the casinos on the strip, that we were most likely to find a bagel there. Har de har har har. We even went into "Greenberg's Deli" which anyone actually named Greenberg should sue and burn to the ground because THEY DIDN'T SERVE BAGELS.

We did dine in a Chinese restaurant with a lousy breakfast buffet, but they had a decent fried rice, so I was briefly sated. Of course, we were in Vegas to celebrate Big Mama Salsa's 70th birthday and she enjoyed a Bloody Mary with the FINEST garnish I'd ever seen in a drink. It almost made up for the lack of bagels. It was a skewer that sat across the glass with a cube of salami, a cube of cheese, a big green olive, a cocktail onion and a lime almost breaking the stick in two with the weight of their condimenty goodness. I took photos with my Aunt Joyce's camera which I will post when the Las Vegas police let my Aunt Joyce out for that unfortunate incident involving Australia's Thunder Down Under at the Excalibur.

There was a slot machine with a Tabasco theme, but I didn't have a camera or I would have had myself photographed losing money into it.

We dined at a bistro in the Paris monstrosity with the Eifel Tower and everything. The restaurant was actually quite good. Siegfried and Roy were there and we saw Roy being pushed out in a wheelchair. POOR TASTE COMMENT ALERT - I guess we should be glad the tiger didn't have the right condiment or there would be no more Roy -- END POOR TASTE COMMENT.

We had steamed artichokes which had a disappointing thick gloop that was supposed to be a lemon butter for a dipping sauce. But they were redeemed by the horseradish sauce that was served with Big Mama Salsa's Prime Rib. I had a nibble or two when BMS was otherwise occupied with her wine and it was most delicious, especially the sauce. When we were getting up to leave, BMS offered me the leftover Prime Rib, but I only grabbed the horseradish sauce which I carefully placed in my bag in case I came across something that needed dipping.

Unfortunately, I lost it later that night after bumping the night away in a club in the Hard Rock cafe.

And no, Thunder Down Under was not involved. Now THERE would be a prodigious use of the dipping sauce.

Viva Las Vegas!

Condiment Grrl

Falling Down on the Job...

2006-09-18T23:28:00.000-07:00

Sorry for the delay in posting, my saucy lovelies, but Condiment Grrl has been quite busy with silly, other things, like taking Baby Balsamic to the Washington State Fair. It's filled with rides, pigs, cows, bunnies, and more crap made by eight-year olds than you can shape a heat-injected plastic mold stick at, but it's not the finest place for condiments.

Although, I don't know that for sure. There's actually a whole homemaking crafts portion of the fair where farm ladies bring in their pickles and salsas for judging. I read the entry form, but my skill lies in the consumption of the pickle, not the creation. I offered to be a guest judge, but alas, those rubes don't appreciate my celebrity.

Baby Balsamic did very much enjoy an ice cream cone. We rarely give her ice cream, so she suctioned up every drop, then proceeded to wilt into a diabetic coma in her stroller.

That night, she perked up again by eating her weight in Norman Bishop Cranberry Mustard. She called it "ketchup" and kept asking for more, more, more with her lamb.

If anyone out there has any power at the Washington State Fair, I BEG you to get me a judging seat next year. You won't be sorry.

Condiment Grrl

The Wasabi Code

2006-09-13T23:23:00.000-07:00

Last night Mr. Mustard and I feasted on the flesh of raw fish and seaweed, otherwise known as sushi. Of course, I had to prepare my accompanying condiment platter just so: pickled ginger (there could never be enough blog entries about my love for pickled ginger), and wasabi stirred into soy sauce. What I enjoy most about the wasabi/soy sauce combination is how it changes throughout the course of the meal. First, the wasabi is but a bubbling echo whispering in the salty soy sauce, then as you keep dipping, soaking up a larger percentage of soy sauce than the wasabi, the wasabi gradually kicks the soy sauces ass until you take a bit of a tuna roll and your sinuses erupt and run like Mount Fuji.

But while it's intense, it doesn't hurt like chile peppers. It feels more like tough love, like some huge Sumo wrestler is going to clean out your sinus cavities BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY!!

As I discovered through the magic of best Internet friend, Wikipedia, that inherent surprise is not the only one wasabi has to offer. According to "Wiki," as I like to call her:

"Fresh leaves of wasabi can also be eaten and have some of the hot flavor of wasabi roots. They can be eaten as wasabi salad by pickling overnight with a salt and vinegar based dressing, or by quickly boiling them with a little soy sauce. Additionally, the leaves can be battered and deep-fried into chips."

Oh my GOD! This is like the DaVinci Code or something - a small green nondescript paste that hides a potential and beauty so far beyond anything I've experienced. Let me just add that that paragraph holds five of my favorite words: Salad, Salt, Vinegar, Deep-Fried, and Chips. I can have all those things with a simple wasabi root? Bring it on, baby, bring it on!

I just checked the website of the huge Asian store in Seattle, Uwajimaya and they sell wasabi root! I sense a field trip. I sense exposing my pristine kitchen (maintained quite lovingly by Mr. Mustard. I'm too busy blogging.) to the perils of deep fat flying everywhere.

And I must pickle. I have yet to pickle in my life, so I might as well start with wasabi leaves.

Until then, I will have to content myself with munching on Trader Joe's wasabi peas, but you know, they do get old after a while.

All this talk of wasabi and sushi takes me back to my first sushi experience in San Francisco. I was working with the San Francisco Mime Troupe at the time. An amazing actress, costume designer and all-around superstar of a human being, Keiko Shimosato, and myself were slaving away on props and costumes for the summer show. I didn't know her that well and was a little bit in awe of her, so I let her drag me to a sushi place, even though I hated sushi.

Or so I thought.

She told me that someone else always had to order for you the first time you ate sushi, so I allowed her to present me with yellowtail and hamachi and maguro and even, some smoked eel! Sushi is about texture as much as taste and I remember feeling so proud of myself that I liked sushi. How hip and urban I was! This was years ago, but I can still see Keiko's sly smile as she turned her head and held out the chopsticks to me. And I can still taste the wasabi expoding in my sinuses. And it reminds me of her, because she's a small, beautiful woman with a gentle aspect, who just explodes with talent and charisma and power.

Here's to the Wasabi code.

Condiment Grrl