You might not know this, but Ketchup has become public enemy #1 around here. Well, not the Ketchup exactly, but the squeezable Ketchup jug. I don’t know the person who designed the squeezable jug with the bum-hole in the lid, but he/she should know that The Viking isn’t a fan.
Obviously, French’s or Heinz’s jugs weren’t designed for Vikings. There’s no finesse, no attention to detail, no compliance to Danish standards. How is The Viking supposed to put the exact amount of Ketchup on his Hot Dog with a brute jug that is designed to put the maximum amount of Ketchup in the shortest amount of time? It takes significant force to open the bum-hole and then Ketchup explodes from the jug like it was launched from a fire hose. That’s no way to apply a delicate amount of Ketchup.
A Danish Hot Dog is a masterpiece of flavors, from the wiener to the sweet pickles to the deep-fried onions. A massive glop of Ketchup completely ruins the delicate balance and makes The Viking shout and occasionally throw the entire Hot Dog in the garbage while verbally abusing the designer of said Applicator at the top of his lungs.
The Danish Hot Dog requires a warm, crusty bun, an authentic European wiener, a consistent, thin line of Ketchup down the center of the wiener, followed by a thicker but still consistent line of Remoulade. Finely chopped onions top the condiments, then Agurkasalat (Danish sweet pickles and only Danish sweet pickles) and the fried onions crown the masterpiece. Any slight anomaly is an epic disaster. The onions must be chopped incredibly fine, the Remoulade at the peak of freshness, the bun crusty – not soggy (dear Gawd, no sogginess!). It’s a complex and finely tuned balance. Putting a man on the moon is easier than making a perfect Danish Hot Dog.
Necessity is the mother of invention though, so The Viking pondered the situation for several years until one day a light bulb appeared over his head while we were having lunch. He was violently shaking the Remoulade container to get every last bit of the delicious condiment out of the small, perfectly round hole in the lid.
“Waaait a minute! That hole is the perfect size for Ketchup Application on my Hot Dog!! What if we washed out the Precision Remoulade Applicating Device and made it into a Precision Ketchup Applicating Device!? Not only is the hole size perfect but only the slightest pressure provides a glorious line of delightful Ketchup.”
And…..he doesn’t have to verbally abuse the bum-hole anymore. It’s a win-win.
On the other hand, I admired the person who invented the plastic jug with the bum-hole lid. I washed it out and saved it for future use. That future arrived yesterday when I made a lovely salad and Cider Vinaigrette. I immediately thought of the decommissioned Ketchup jug as the perfect vessel for my Vinaigrette.
I dished salad onto my plate, gently added grated, 2-year-old Canadian cheddar and picked up the Precision Cider Vinaigrette Application Device. I squeezed the jug softly, careful to not over-vinaigrette. Nothing came out. I squeezed it just a touch harder. Nothing. I added more pressure. That damned bum-hole was tight! I was getting nervous so squeezed just the slightest bit more. Suddenly, the bum-hole opened, a beautiful arc of Vinaigrette launched over my plate, over the table and laid down a precise line across the kitchen floor.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!!”
Oops! The Viking, sitting in the family room with his plate, heard me and wanted to know what was wrong.
“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just eat your dinner.”
Because there is no fucking way that I’m going to let him know what a damned catastrophe that stupid Ketchup jug is! He’ll laugh for most of the coming week!
The moral of this story: Jugs with bum-hole lids are never to be trusted.
