The Joy of Condiments

I'm a little perplexed by my refrigerator. While it is supposed to earnestly chill my various nutritive substances without question, tonight it has been trying to tell me I have a serious problem.

Apparently, I have an issue with collecting condiments. Why should anybody in their right mind own nine types of barbecue sauce? Or eleven salad dressings... and no salad? I own six jars of marmelade and four mustards, most of which I have only tried once. The sauces abound... sriracha, salsa, tamarind, horseradish, tartar, tonkatsu, pietro. I have red curry, green curry, and fish sauce, but can't remember the last time I cooked Thai. I have two jars of olive tapenade, plus a jar of muffaletta. There are eight bottles of hot sauce, all with unique flavor and texture. I even have pickled cucumbers, kimchee, and okra.

The only problem is I can't find anything to eat...

Hmm... No ketchup!

Seriously though, condiments are king.

My love affair with Taco Bell began with the golden months of Wild Sauce, an inspired moment which they never seem ready to bring back.

I later learned that there are few things in life better than the glorious rapture of Red Rooster sauce intermingling with Maple Syrup at Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles.

...Or the miso paste at Wonju's Korean BBQ.
...Or the noisette spread at Le Pain Quotidienne.
...Or fresh Pico de Gallo at Las Golondrinas.
...Or a hefty splash of malt vinegar to overcome greasy Fish n' Chips.
...Or some good ginger and wasabi while eating sushi.
...Or an assortment of chutneys to go with samosas.
...Or the onions grilled animal-style at In-n-Out.
...Or extra tsatsiki on a gyro.
...Or katsu on karokkes.
...Or the clean flavor of yellow mustard on a hot dog.

There are times where the meal transforms into a mere vehicle for the condiment. But for me, the condiments are what transforms the meal...