Condiment Wars

As mentioned in the previous post, I will now on occasion enjoy a nice baloney sandwich. But this raises an issue with me, because I have a problem with the way Jason eats baloney. First off, he toasts the bread. I mean, what is that? And then, he puts mayo on it! Now, I am okay with mayo (the only one in my family who is), but baloney is clearly a mustard meat (and I use the word meat quite loosely here). And the truth is, we have a problem with a lot of each other's food habits.

For example, about once a week, we have a relaxed meal. I cook a lot, I have a lot of gourmet recipes and since I don't currently work, I will sometimes throw myself into making a meal for 2 or 3 hours. But I always have something in the freezer for those rare nights when I just don't feel like cooking, usually a frozen pizza and a bag of curly fries (for those of you who don't know, curly fries are McCain's spiral-cut fries with seasoning). Therein lies the key: seasoning. They are pre-seasoned. So when Jason gets the ketchup out, it bothers me. Almost any use of ketchup bothers me, but if he puts it on hamburgers, or hot dogs, or plain fries, I don't mind too much. And he doesn't put it on grilled cheese, or kraft dinner, or eggs, so most of the time we agree. And then suddenly it's curly fry night, and I begin to understand why divorce rates are so high.

I remember when I first got engaged I had a conversation with my mother about how I was not 100% sure that I could marry Jason, because I had recently seen him pour a glass of 7up for breakfast. I managed to hold myself together at the time, but I called my mother in tears later that night. When it comes to food, we are all very prejudiced people. Even grown-ups have a hard time trying new things. When I was little and we ate at my Nanny's, there was nothing on her table that scared me. She sticks to traditional food: 87 kinds of meat (at Christmas, there is usually turkey of course, a chicken pot pie, meatballs, tourtiere, ham, shepherd's pie for Matthew, and KFC for Jan) and all the trimmings. At my paternal grandmother's it was another story. There was stuff on her table that I wanted nothing to do with, and I was aware that even my mother shuddered when she passed the jello moulds with green olives floating in it. And what's with those sandwiches made out of canned ham and relish? I have nothing against ham or relish separately, but together? No thanks. At those family functions my sisters and I mainly subsisted on 2 things: dinner rolls and taco salad. Dinner rolls are relatively similar from family to family, and it was my mother who brought the salad. In fact, Jason often says he fell in love with me for my mother's taco salad. Gee thanks. Hours and hours of gourmet cooking, and he loves the fried beef and crumbled Doritos. What a guy.

And there are stories about Jason that get even worse. I should warn you before you read on: the things contained in this next paragraph may horrify and disgust you. If you ever have to be in the same room with him again, you may want to just skip to the bottom. The truth is, in a moment of weakness, Jason confessed to me that he used to purchase and consume the fillet o'fish at McDonald's. He now knows how wrong that was and he will never, ever do it again, but still. That's the kind of thing that sits at the back of your brain. And now if he ever goes on a killing spree, I'll have to tell the news reporters "Well, I'm not entirely surprised. There were some really shady incidents in his childhood." And it's not just the fillet o'fish. He also used to make peanut butter and pickle sandwiches. He could be a contestant on Fear Factor for sure, he clearly has an iron stomach and a shockingly lax gag reflex. And I have witnessed a lot of oddball sandwiches in my day, because my Nanny has a theory that you can put almost anything on bread and it becomes edible. She used to eat raw onion sandwiches, and boiled-potato sandwiches (this was clearly before the low-carb craze). I myself have partaken in a peanut butter and banana sandwich once or twice, but those are complimentary flavours that are often paired together in breakfast bars, desserts, and the tummies of sane people all across this great country. But peanut butter and pickles? If you're not a pregnant woman, then you have no excuse. If you don't instinctively know better, then let your outraged taste buds show you the way! Shame on you, Jason.

And shame on taking a beautiful thing, the exalted pizza, and turning it into a revolting mess. If I turn my back for even a moment, Jason will be ordering the meat lover's pizza. Or the cheeseburger pizza. Or the quadruple meat pizza. Or the so-meaty-your-wife-will-vomit pizza. I don't even like your standard pepperoni, but we're talking serious meat here, crumbled ground beef, bacon, ham, salami, and the worst of all: sausage. I call this one the worst because on pizza, it comes as tiny little balls of apparent meat, which I know for a fact do not occur in nature.

I could go on and on on this topic, but I won't. Breakfast is ready, and there is nothing like a delicious helping of creamed corn and oyster sauce on toast to get your day started right.