Published 2026-04-07
tag(s): #overblown-minor-annoyances
I've thought of this post in the past, but the last couple days I was reminded in a few different ways:
I can't say it is the same in all of Latin America, but at least in Argentina,
a condimento is a spice. And mayo, ketchup, mustard, etc.
are aderezos.[1]
It happened more than once, and definitely for way longer than it should have (a few months?),
that I would go to the store and look for oregano or pepper in the condiment aisle,
where the mayo is.
Only thing I can say in my defense is that these aren't things you buy on every other store
visit, like milk. But well, sometimes brains just don't do brainy things. đź‘€ It shouldn't have
taken me that long to internalize the difference!
At the base of the condiment pyramid is, of course, mayonnaise. Golden-colored mayonnaise. Is that a coincidence? I don't think so. Very obviously it is proof that the universe is the result of intelligent design. Mayonnaise = gold. Checkmate, atheists.
Growing up, I found even mustard more common than ketchup, although not so much after my
teens. Was this an exception in our household? Did the situation change as we moved into the
21st century? Who knows.
The only important thing is that mayonnaise reigned, and will reign, supreme.
And there's a reason for that: all? sandwiches can be made better with mayo. If you embrace
mayonnaise, no sandwich will ever be too dry for you.
I call mayonnaise "the universal food lubricant". It is good for a number of other
foods, not only sandwiches: potato salad, rice with tuna, etc.
An unlike mustard or ketchup, mayonnaise has a subtler flavor that doesn't destroy whatever it
is you are eating.
So, mayo is not as invasive, and very important, it is not sweet like ketchup. Who
wants a ham and cheese sandwich to taste sweet?!?!?!
Here, ketchup is king. You can find ketchup everywhere. Most sandwiches have ketchup.
Sometimes with other condiments thrown in, but by then you have ruined a perfectly good
sandwich with that hellish concoction.
I mean...it is red. You don't need to be Dan Brown to figure out that symbolism. Wake up,
America!!! This should be the true meaning of the "red scare"!
At most stadiums, you can find ketchup packets, maybe mustard, ranch...but no
mayonnaise. Ever.
What am I supposed to put on my hot dog, if not precious mayonnaise?[2].
What will I dip my chicken tenders and fries in? I can take ranch as a quite poor mayo
substitute, but only because I am trying to blend in with the crowd, the locals. At a
football game. Errr I mean soccer. America's sport, of course. (???)[3]
There's only one, the one sandwich that is not improved with mayonnaise. The
one that keeps the universe in balance. And that sandwich is the choripán.
Behold:
The word "choripán" is simply the combination of the words "chorizo" (sausage)
and "pan" (bread).
In case the etymology wasn't clear enough: it is a sausage sandwich. Usually served with
chimichurri
or salsa criolla.[4]
It is a staple of street fairs and any decent asado.
And, I am ashamed to admit, among a group of friends, some heathens add mayonnaise to their
choripán. This is an affront to the natural order of the universe. Choripán is the one
exception to the rule that anything that is consumed in between two pieces of bread, can only
be improved with the addition of mayonnaise.
This exception makes the rule stronger, of course. Breaking it is a crime.
But a crime not as terrible as ketchup.
Not a biased opinion.
Of course.