Yeah, it's true. I am a ketchup whore. It's bitch, as it where.
I fell in love with this stuff at a very early age. I think I was three. By the age of five I was helping my grandmother make this stuff from scratch on a wood fired stove in a steaming hot kitchen in the South. She was a rail thin little woman who did home canning proud. If she could harvest something out of her garden and stuff it into a sterilized jar, she did. I was in heaven! Her homemade ketchup was fucking amazing! Do you know how many tomatoes you need to make ketchup? Way too fucking many. Wheelbarrows full. And she had them. I have incredibly wonderful memories of her and I in the garden "pickin' 'maters". She passed away when I was in 4th grade. I lunged at all of her metal recipe boxes and her set of cast iron cookware. Yeah, I'm that gay... Those little boxes held treasures. I use them all to this day. Grandma, thank you!!!
Soon afterwards I had to start using store bought ketchup. I was not happy. Then I discovered Heinz. It wasn't as good as grandma's but it was a damned good second best. It's damned good stuff but it's just not perfect. In 1986 I got an eye opener. I was in Australia. I couldn't find ketchup to save my life. I wanted to die. Ketchup is an American thing. I finally found it in the Ethnic Aisle. WHAT??? Yeah, a small bottle of Heinz. For $12. WTF??? I quickly learned to travel with ketchup. I filled my pockets with those little packets at fast food places. I will not cross a time zone without some ketchup in my possession. In 1988 while dragging my ass all over Asia people would give me strange looks as I started hauling little packets of ketchup out out my shoulder bag. Americans at the next table would start salivating. And pay me BIG bucks for a couple of them. Which I happily sold to them at grotesquely inflated prices.
About twelve years ago on one of my frequent trips to Mexico a good friend joined my down there and took me to one of his favorite restaurants. I ordered a hamburgeusa and fries and they laid down a jar of Clemente Jacques Mexican ketchup. I circled around that thing like a pack of rabid hyenas. One taste and I was smitten. OMG!!! If you have never tasted Mexican ketchup you have not been to heaven. I have been bringing suitcases of this stuff back from Mexico ever since. It's mind blowing. Mexican ketchup is different. We use sugar. They use vinegar. Oh my goddess. Magnificent!!! Heinz was now dead to me... Airports and US Customs look at me like a terrorist. Yes, perhaps five gallons of ketchup is a bit much.
It's not just ketchup though. It's tomatoes. I love tomatoes. I've grown a shitload of them over the years. All sorts of colors, shapes, sizes and varieties. I make my own tomato sauce. Oh, goddess, I have been trapped in my kitchen with way too many tomatoes, sweating my tits off over way too many stock pots. I have been known to drive more than 100 miles to raid someones garden and literally fill the trunk of my car with bizarre heritage plum tomatoes. Grandma would be so proud.
And yes, I actually do have the t-shirt featured at the left. Ketchup, it just don't get any better than that...
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