The Denver Post

Ketchup calls for celebratio­n

- By Joy Manning

Like many Americans, I grew up on ketchup. I smeared it on eggs, puddled it next to potatoes and glazed frozen chicken patties with the stuff.

But as I crossed over to adulthood, I got a sense that requesting ketchup at restaurant­s suggested something about me beyond my preferred sauce. I understood that, unlike worldlier condiments such as Sriracha, ketchup is not sophistica­ted — and neither are those who love it. Coming from a workingcla­ss background, I didn’t want to broadcast my bluecollar roots every time I ordered fries. I mean, frites. I branched out into aioli, flirted with malt vinegar and generally learned to live without my ketchup.

Despite its downmarket reputation, ketchup is ubiquitous. And it has been for a very long time, certainly since Heinz patented its first bottle in 1882.

Scholars and food historians contest the exact origin of ketchup. Eighteenth­century condiments with names such as kecap (Indonesia) and ketsiap (China) suggest that the earliest ketchups were concocted in Asia. From there the sauce traveled to Europe before evolving into its current form in America.

The earliest uses of the word describe something that we wouldn’t recognize today as ketchup at all. Common early versions were made with fermented mushrooms or walnuts and their pickling liquid, along with a slew of spices. Oyster, liver and lobster were other main ingredient­s. Pungent, dark and thin, the first ketchups were decidedly not sweet. Early recipes were created with the goal of a long shelf life. Some recipes had titles like “Ketchup to Keep 20 Years.”

American food companies standardiz­ed the iconic condiment that’s in almost every refrigerat­or across the land today. They, too, were driven by the goal of a longlastin­g product. That’s how ketchup got so sweet and thick — sugar is a natural preservati­ve.

By the 1890s, the New York Tribune declared tomato ketchup the national condiment of the United States. Food writers of the time described it as an “incomparab­le condiment” and “the sauce of sauces,” according to food historian Andrew F. Smith’s book “Pure Ketchup.”

But it wasn’t the sauce’s storied history that revived my longdorman­t love. It was my 4yearold niece.During one visit this year, we ate tater tots and ketchup together, her glee unbridled, the reapplicat­ions of ketchup to her plate and mine numerous.

When I got home, I bought both frozen tater tots and ketchup. So what if it’s lowbrow? It reminds me of my niece, I thought. Savoring the flavors and memories of shared meals matters more to me than proving my refined palate. It wasn’t long before I emptied the bottle, finding new ways to use it up.

A longtime favorite restaurant dish of mine — the deepfried sweet and spicy Cauliflowe­r 65 — often includes ketchup. I ate this dish dozens of times without realizing the tomatobase­d condiment played a central role in its seasoning. Usually described as IndianChin­ese fusion, it’s the kind of Americaniz­ed meltingpot dish whose origins and “authentic” recipe are unclear, so I used a recipe from the “V Street” cookbook by Richard Landau and Kate Jacoby as my starting point.

Ketchup is often the key ingredient in another classic sauce that is currently out of style: mayonnaise­based Russian dressing. Spicier than its sibling, Thousand Island, thanks to the addition of sinustingl­ing horseradis­h, Russian dressing can be made well without any mayonnaise at all (my version subs tofu for the mayo), but you can’t get precisely the right tang for a Reuben sandwich without a healthy dose of the red stuff.

Barbecue sauce is no prestige recipe. But I dare you not to like it mixed with shredded chicken and piled on a potato roll with pickles, or brushed on chicken during its last moments roasting or on the grill. It would also be welcome alongside ribs or pulled pork, or added to your turkey burger.

If ketchup were introduced today, we would hail it as the next “it” condiment. It’s time to cook with it, as well as slather it on potatoes, eggs, onion rings, meatloaf or wherever you like it best — and do it proudly.

The cauliflowe­r florets below have a delicious, rather decadent look to them. If you like things less spicy, feel free to use less Sriracha.

You’ll need an instantrea­d thermomete­r for monitoring the oil.

Make ahead: These taste best just after they are made. Stored in a sealed container in the refrigerat­or, however, they keep well for three days. Reheat for a few minutes at 375 degrees, until hot and crisp. Ingredient­s

½ cup tomato ketchup

¼ cup Sriracha, or as needed

¼ cup mayonnaise

1 tablespoon white wine vinegar 1 teaspoon curry powder

½ teaspoon ground turmeric ½ teaspoon ground cumin

¼ teaspoon granulated garlic (aka

garlic powder)

½ cup cornstarch

½ cup chickpea flour

1 small head cauliflowe­r (about 1 pound), broken into florets (about 5 cups) Vegetable oil, for frying

Salt

Cilantro leaves, whole or chopped, for

garnish Directions

Place a wire rack inside a rimmed baking sheet.

Whisk together the ketchup, Sriracha, mayonnaise, white wine vinegar, curry powder, turmeric, cumin and garlic powder in a mixing bowl. Whisk together the cornstarch and chickpea flour in a pie plate.

Add the cauliflowe­r to the ketchup mixture and toss to coat. Use tongs or your clean hands to remove the florets one at a time from the ketchup mixture, shaking off any excess, and place into the cornstarch mixture. Dredge each floret to coat well, then place on the wire rack.

Pour enough oil to get ½inch depth in a large castiron skillet, over medium heat. Once the oil temperatur­e registers 350 degrees on an instantrea­d thermomete­r, drop in a single floret; the oil should sizzle around it. Working in batches to avoid crowding the pan, fry the florets for 5 minutes, tossing and turning for uniform browning after the first minute.

Use tongs to transfer the florets to the wire rack; season lightly with salt right away.

Cool for 5 minutes, then sprinkle with cilantro, and serve.

It’s true that this dressing really wakes up a bowl of iceberg lettuce and cucumber slices, but its destiny is as a sauce for burgers and sandwiches. Ingredient­s

8 ounces silken tofu (may substitute

mayonnaise)

¼ cup tomato ketchup

2 tablespoon­s chopped shallot 2 tablespoon­s chopped kosher dill

pickle

2 tablespoon­s prepared white

horseradis­h, or more as needed 2 tablespoon­s canola oil

1 teaspoon lowsodium soy sauce ½ teaspoon sweet paprika ½ teaspoon salt, or more as needed Directions

Combine all the ingredient­s in a food processor; puree until well blended but not quite smooth. Taste, and season with more horseradis­h and/or salt, as needed.

This is a speedy version of the comfort food classic. You could grill the chicken instead of roasting it, or substitute bonein, skinon pieces if you have the extra time to roast the chicken until it reaches an internal temperatur­e of 165 degrees.

Serve the chicken thighs whole, or shred them and combine with more of the sauce for barbecuedc­hicken sandwiches. Ingredient­s

2 tablespoon­s canola oil

2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken

thighs

1 teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon freshly ground black

pepper

¾ cup Classic American Barbecue

For a perfectly smooth sauce, strain the onion and garlic bits out after cooking.

The sauce can be refrigerat­ed in an airtight container for up to 2 weeks.

3 to 6 servings (makes ¾ cup) Ingredient­s

2 tablespoon­s unsalted butter

¼ cup grated onion k teaspoon ground allspice

Pinch ground cayenne pepper, or more

as needed

2 cloves garlic, minced

½ cup tomato ketchup

2 tablespoon­s yellow mustard 2 tablespoon­s light brown sugar 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar 1 tablespoon molasses

1 tablespoon Worcesters­hire sauce ¾ teaspoon liquid smoke Directions

Melt the butter in a saucepan over mediumhigh heat. Add the onion, allspice and cayenne pepper; cook for about 2 minutes, stirring, until the onion has softened. Add the garlic and cook for about 1 minute, until fragrant.

Add the ketchup, mustard, brown sugar, cider vinegar, molasses, Worcesters­hire and liquid smoke. Once the mixture starts to bubble, reduce the heat to low and cook for about 10 minutes, until slightly reduced and thickened.

Let cool before serving or storing

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 ?? Photos by Deb Lindsey for the Washington Post ??
Photos by Deb Lindsey for the Washington Post

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