Ruth and I had a good chuckle today. Her tiniest grandson, little Trevor, was eating ketchup with his French fries and made the comment to his Dad and others within earshot: “Ketchup makes me feel funny in my bones.” 

I can only imagine the degree of amusement Trevor’s Mom and Dad experienced, trying to understand the meaning of their little boy’s obvious physical pleasure when eating his favorite food additive.  Knowing the little tyke as I do, his seriousness at stating a fact only added to the amusement.

Trevor, you see, is very particular about his ketchup.

Do not, I repeat, do NOT, put ketchup ON his French fries. He’s been known to throw fits over this transgression. Ketchup must be ritually squirted from the big red ketchup squeeze bottle directly onto his plate in a small round mound.  Then he can selectively dip his chosen fry (or portion thereof) into the ketchup, leaving his fingers clean and unsoiled (never mind where they may have been most recently).

Trevor’s civilized technique of consuming ketchup with carefully chosen French fries will probably never give way to eating them with a fork, an even more sanitary technique. Somehow I can’t imagine him abandoning the tactile approach (grown men leaving sticky fingerprints on drinking glasses comes to mind.)

“So what did his Dad tell him?” I said to Ruth.  “Oh, there was some mumbling about high fructose corn syrup, I think,” she replied. “Trevor didn’t skip a beat eating his ketchup though. He’s got real ketchup lust.”

“Maybe his taste buds have discovered unami,” I offered. “You know, he’s becoming a connoisseur of sorts.”

“What’s unami?”

“As best I can describe it, unami is the savory sensation of tastes, as opposed to saltiness, bitterness, sourness, sweetness, or piquency. Maybe Trevor just enjoys the complexities of ketchup.”

“I don’t care. At least Trevor’s eating his vegetables. Well, you do know that ketchup is a vegetable?”

Happy Cookbooking,

Matilda