In Defense of Ketchup
Dare to defy the Foodie Police
Food consciousness came late to America—but when it arrived, it hit with the impact of a meteorite. Prior to 1960, our concept of luxurious dining included dishes such as jello molds, turkey tetrazzini, chicken a la king, veal Oscar, Waldorf salad, and other items too grotesque to mention. Now we eat healthier and better, and a new generation of foodies celebrate farm to table cuisine.
Where sophistication exists, there is frequent snobbery. Few things will arouse the outrage of the Foodie Police faster than professing a love for ketchup. I count that fondness among my many human foibles, and I have endured the sneers of those more worldly than myself. I have trouble imagining exactly how the consumption of ketchup became such an outrage, so I decided to do some research.
The first reference to ketchup in a cookbook occurred in 1690. It appears to have been British in origin and was originally made with mushrooms rather than tomatoes—an umami mousse, if you will. The Brits brought it with them to the Colonies, and it was common here prior to the Revolution.
The first known recipe for tomato ketchup was published in 1812 by James Mease, a physician and horticulturalist. By 1837, it was being sold nationally. Heinz added distilled vinegar to the mix and introduced their tomato ketchup in 1876, advertising it as a “blessed relief” for housewives who had previously labored to make ketchup in their kitchens. The amount of sugar increased during the 19th century, resulting in the product’s hallmark sweet-sour taste. High fructose corn syrup eventually replaced the sugar and is gradually disappearing today for health reasons. It’s interesting to note that ketchup was regarded as medicinal throughout the 1800s and was promoted as a cure for gastrointestinal problems.
None of this explains the hatred of ketchup among food snobs. “Do not put ketchup on your hot dogs,” Anthony Bourdain said in 2012. “Be assured God doesn’t want you to do that.” In Chicago, apparently, this is regarded as the ultimate culinary faux pas. Did Bourdain have a direct line to God? We can’t know, although it seems doubtful. Given that he admitted in his book Kitchen Confidential to using psychedelics, pharmaceuticals, amphetamines, heroin and cocaine, in addition to large amounts of alcohol, singling out ketchup as a dangerous substance seems curious.
In the 2016 premiere episode of Parts Unknown, as Bourdain and Barack Obama were eating together in Vietnam, the chef asked if putting ketchup on a hot dog is “ever acceptable.” The former senator from Illinois replied that it was inexcusable after the age of eight (random and nearly continuous gun violence runs rampant in Chicago, but God forbid anyone puts ketchup on their hot dog). In general, chefs seem to fall into the ketchup-hating category, with some saying that it masks and overpowers the taste of food.
Since few people will clearly state the reasons for their hatred of ketchup, it leaves us free to speculate. The most likely explanation is that food snobbery has morphed into a form of class distinction. Truck drivers are famous (justly or not) for their habit of dousing everything they eat with ketchup. Refined individuals, on the other hand, never use it; they also recoil at the notion of well-done steak, eat their tuna rare, consume quinoa and truffles, and know the provenance of every ingredient in a dish. For them, ketchup has apparently become a symbol of the working class and the great unwashed.
There are a few bright spots in the universe: Matthew McConaughey and Patrick Mahomes are both ketchup lovers. But whether you’re a chef or a president, it’s fair to ask what gives you the right to tell people what to eat. Perhaps I’m becoming more libertarian as I age, but I believe the ideal society is one where people mostly mind their own business.
In the realm of bright spots, remember Audrey Hepburn? She was a woman who embodied elegance, grace and style for many members of the public. Believe it or not, one of her favorite dishes was the ultimate faux pas, far worse than putting ketchup on hot dogs in Chicago: She loved pasta with ketchup. Here’s her recipe:
Cook some penne, then drain it and transfer to a hot saucepan with olive oil and melted butter. Stir until pasta is glossy, then remove the pan from the heat and cover it for several minutes. Scoop the penne into a bowl, add your desired amount of ketchup, and stir with a bit of the pasta water. Sprinkle shredded cheese over the top (Parmesan will do, although Hepburn used Gruyère or Swiss Emmentaler).
Enjoy!
