Ketchup
by: The Jethro

It’s a short, soothing word. The consonants work in just the right order to make you feel the exact memory of the zest underneath your tongue. It’s the viscous elixir of your and my Sesame Street youths. Even the kids without cable will get this one. It is as evocative as the memory of your first Wolverine trading card you never traded, or remembering the sound of the ice cream man’s chime from three blocks yonder. The taste is familiar to both the prince and the pauper.  It’s an escapism, sometimes, from the dry and the tasteless. What could stir up such nostalgia…asks the reader politely.  My pet monster? Strawberry Shortcake? Pogs? None of those, you hipster!  For it is the sweet sensation and transcendent tang of American Ketchup that can stain the visage of all memories so pure, and leave your mom asking you how you got it all over your brand new Osh Kosh B’Gosh overalls.

Research:

Ketchup (or Catsup) comes from Asia and was originally a spicy condiment with pickled fish as one of the ingredients. The Thai word for catsup is actually pronounced very similarly to catsup. The condiment is used in many Thai recipes. I suppose that one could justly accuse me of market branding the ketchup product but there’s no denying the monopoly that Heinz has on the tasty accessory. There’s always that one kid though in the whole damn town whose mom buys that shitty ‘Fancy’ Catsup. We hung out with little Henry down the street until his mom came home with that fancy crap and we couldn’t hang with him anymore. It grew too awkward. Anyway, navigating through the Heinz Ketchup website (a visual explosion of reds and crimsons) one discovers that Heinz has no added thickener and is a great source of Leucopenia!!! A powerful antioxidant with potentially positive health benefits. Come on now Ketchup…don’t appeal to society’s health-mania.

Investigations: 

Walking down underneath the blaring halogen bulbs of my local Stop and Shop, I pass by some of Ketchup’s most notorious accomplices Hellmann’s mayonnaise, Relish, and French’s yellow mustard (or freedom mustard as I like to call it) I see the ketchup, our eyes meet in the glow of artificial light. Bastions of purity and youth, even its permutations that have taken form in the convenient upside-down bottle, the purple ketchup, and the green. I notice something though, either I’ve gotten smaller, or the shelves have because they now have these gargantuan plastic handles of ketchup. I proceed to checkout with my 80-gallon drum of Americana, load it onto my flatbed and took it home to begin my time warp. I’m back in my Brooklyn home. My mother fries up some vegetables, which I will immediately dress in Ketchup once before me. At the time, this was permissible parenting since Reagan declared ketchup its own vegetable (Please see the U.S. Ketchup Report, 1982 Page 239 Par. 8 Clause 2.4b)

Memory:

Now, try to dream of your French fries past, shiny ruby-colored goo at the tips, the occasional triple or quadruple dip. Reminisce on the days of back-yard grills with the old man, Buns painted red by mom. Think back now of the summer days and the warm hot dog flavor. Sometimes, Ketchup was the only thing that could save the unsavory dinner of a young American brat like me.