I immediately began trying to think of clever things to say, using buns and beef and condomint...And then, uh, drat. It's condiment.
So. How do you feel about condiments? I'd never given them much thought until I felt drowned in them. Turns out, I'm fairly indifferent to most of them.
Except sometimes, when there are so many I can't cram anything else in. Then I feel some serious condiment hostility welling up.
I don't know how many condiments the average person has. But we surely have more than normal. I mean, we're not condiment hoarders. It's not like we have so many condiments that there's no room for a table and chairs. But they do occupy significant space in our fridge and cupboards.
I live with two other adults: Betty and Nick. With the exception of spices, of which she has many, my mother tends to focus on sweet things like jams, honey, syrup. She also buys mustard. Pardon us. I'm certain we have
Nick, on the other hand, goes for the savories: BBQ sauce, hot sauce, dressings, Worcestershire, ketchup, pickle relish, marinades. The man has been know to put smoky Tabasco sauce on just about everything you can imagine. He also buys mustard. We have mustard a-plenty.
My mother likes Miracle Whip. Nick likes mayonnaise. Each will eat the other type in a pinch, but typically, we have to have both.
Not being a math person, I can't tell you the precise food-to-condiment ratio in our fridge. Maybe 1:3? Whatever, it's ridiculous.
Lately, however, we've all been really busy. We haven't done much shopping. And so, this weekend, when my mother, Nick, and Jordan were all gone, I decided to take advantage of the emptiest our fridge has been since we moved in.
I pulled out the shelves one by one and scrubbed them with soap and hot hot water. I dumped old food. I scoured containers.
It felt great.
I'm in the minority, I think, but I hate a full fridge. When the fridge is packed, it totally deters me from looking for anything. When it's sparsely filled, I love it.
I realize this is short-lived. They're going to get all twitchy when they realize we only have three kinds of each jam, sauce, what-have-you.
Nick is back, and Betty returns from Vermont on Friday. I know she's bringing maple syrup. Oh, and not a condiment, but rather, a staple: four pounds of cheddar. (Lucky for me, Nick has never broken up with anyone for eating too much cheese.)