I’ve briefly mentioned my puzzlement at this issue before when I showed you this picture of the soft play area at our local mall.
See that little dollop of ketchup/catsup? I don’t get it.
Who puts ketchup on their steak? I wondered.
Well, I had a little chat with a neighbor down the street who I’ll call “Joanne.”
Now I know.
Joanne’s ENTIRE FAMILY puts ketchup on their steaks.
I had so many questions for her I didn’t know where to begin.
Joanne: Why not?
Me: Well . . .
Joanne: Look, it brings out the flavor of the steak. And we like our steaks well done so without the ketchup it’s too dry.
Me: My kids put ketchup on everything so I can understand the kids doing that. . . but you and Hector?
Joanne: Are you implying that the ketchup is not good enough for the steak?
Me: Uh, ah, um . . .
Joanne: Well, missy, what do you put on your steaks? A-1? Huh? How’s that better?
Me: Well, I don’t, but my husband . . .
Joanne: Yeah, I thought so. Your kind makes me sick. You’re all judgemental with your fancy sauces and such.
Me: But, Joanne, I just want to understand . . .
Joanne: Understand??!! Understand??!! Until you’ve lived in my house and walked in my shoes you will never UNDERSTAND why we do what we do.
Me: Uh. . .
Joanne: So why don’t you go back to your little sheltered, closed-minded kitchen and whip you up something that’s “acceptable by society,” okay?
(She used actual air quotes here. Then she stomped off.)
I really wasn’t sure what happened out there on the street. But I had a feeling it had nothing to do with ketchup. Someone has a chip on her shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore.
And I was not any closer to understanding the ketchup-smeared-all-over-steak thing.
So I did go back to my little kitchen, got out my Teriyaki sauce and took a big swig — right out of the bottle.
Stay classy, Joanne, I thought. Stay classy.