“In my opinion, and this is controversial, in my family, you should not eat ketchup after the age of eight.”
Now, you could argue for and against the merits or non-merits of the ex-President's recent words, but this statement alone has cut through everything that's currently going on in the world, cut it like a giant smear of ketchup-stained controversy across a global plate of love and hate.
In the (obviously) red corner are the ketchup aficionados — the lovers of the sweet, acidic, 200+ year-old condiment — who adore nothing more than putting a good dollop of it on their burgers, hot dogs, chips, their... well... pretty much everything. And they are mad as hell.
In the other corner are those who are not just nodding their heads in agreement but standing their arses up and applauding.
But here's the thing: traditionally, Americans have the same disdain for mayonnaise as Obama has for ketchup — and, in fact, much of the world (to clarify: the world prefers mayo to ketchup, not that Obama has a great disdain for the rest of the world; almost had a Freudian slip there).
Additionally, Obama is from Chicago, and Chicagoans don't use ketchup. In fact, ketchup was widely used years and years ago to cover the taste of bad meat — but, as any resident of Chicago will tell you, they are exceptionally proud of their delis and, as such, won't be seen dead drowning anything in the tomato stuff. Because their meat is goooood.
But what of BBQ sauce? Marie Rose? Sweet 'n' Sour? Thousand Island? These would be nothing without ketchup. What of these, Mr President? Sadly, he stuck to just ketchup, so one suspects that he disregards it as a standalone condiment something best left in the sticky hands of small children.
But why do we force-feed kids ketchup? Children’s taste buds are not fully developed, but, awkwardly, the sweet receptors they do have are in overdrive. When kids say they don’t like something, they genuinely mean it (except for your sister’s kid, who won’t eat anything but pizza), so we, as parents, smother things in ketchup to hide the taste, just so they get their vitamins and minerals. The trouble is, for some, that fascination never goes away and now we’re all stuck in a global argument. Thanks for that, Mr President.
Go find a chef. Doesn’t have to be a 5-star one, just a good chef who knows what they’re doing — and ask them about ketchup. You can ignore the first thirty seconds of swearing that will inevitably head your way and just concentrate on the overall answer.
Yes. It’s a no.
Now, you could suggest (and I’m sure those in the red corner would agree) that if you paid for it, you can eat it how you wish. It’s your money. Your food. But chefs will tell you it's akin to painting an Aston Martin pink with yellow spots — or the Rolling Stones releasing a rap song. It’s just wrong.
And what will certain elements of the press make of this? “As a proud American, ketchup belongs, nay, is a legal requirement, on a good ol’ American hamburger!” To them, I would suggest ordering that other staple of American cuisine — a ribeye steak — and asking the chef for ketchup. See how far that gets them.
Make no bones about it: ketchup has its place. It deserves to be available... just for kids, and as an ingredient to make far, far superior sauces and condiments. Is eight the right age, though? That’s not even remotely secondary school age. So maybe we should give them a couple more years before introducing them to all the glorious things this once-humble sauce can become.
And seeing as absolutely nothing at all is currently going on in the world whatsoever, this debate will rage on for a few more days.
_(26).jpg)
