Condiments

Australia is a wonderful country. Its people are friendly, funny, and unpretentious. It's a place with wonderful cuisine -- incredible wines, wonderful local produce, dairy and meats. Eating there is a treat.

Which makes it all the more baffling that Australians feel compelled to slather condiments over every fucking thing they eat.

Jason's sauces of choice are Sriracha chili sauce, Worcestershire sauce and ketchup (or, as he calls it, "toh-mah-to sauuuce," pronounced like "source," only without the "r"). He puts them on sandwiches, chicken dishes, pizza, eggs, steak, stews, rice and beans, you name it. Sometimes he uses just one or two, sometimes all three in combination.

It drives me crazy.

"Why?" you ask. "It seems like an insignificant thing to get fussed about."

True, it does seem insignificant. And I am a relatively laid-back person. To each his own and all that.

Except for the fact that I really like to cook, and I put a huge amount of effort into my dishes, making seasonings and sauces that are a delicate combination of ingredients. And if you give it a taste and decide that it needs a little more salt or pepper, that's fine. But if you slather it with chili sauce, it's only going to taste like chili sauce no matter what, so all of my work has been for naught.

Last night I made chicken piccata, one of my favorite dishes. The chicken part is relatively simple, but the sauce is a combination of chicken broth, lemon juice, capers, butter and parsley that's just scrumptious.

When Jason got home from work, we started to sit down to dinner, but not before he went to the fridge and got out his bottle of chili sauce.

I lost it. "Goddammit, I swear if you put a drop of that shit on this food, I will take it away and serve you nothing but Spam from now on. What's the point of going to all of this trouble cooking if it's all going to taste like fucking chili sauce?"

His eyes got really big. "I was going to taste it first without the chili."

"I don't care. It's such an overpowering flavor that I could have served you a plate of dog food and it would taste the same."

He got up and put the chili sauce away. He sat down and ate the piccata.

"This is delicious."

"Thank you. I'm glad you like it."

When he finished what was on his plate, he asked in a small voice, "is it OK if I have a couple of chicken cutlets without the piccata sauce so I can put chili on it?"

"Yes."

Marriage is all about compromise. And condiments, if you're married to an Aussie.