Every condiment has a past it's trying to hide…we’re exposing the secrets 🤐🕵🏽‍♀️

In this age of kombucha influencers and sourdough startups, it's time someone exposed Big Condiment's ™️ carefully curated origin stories. Yes, even ketchup, spent its early years as fermented fish guts before reinventing itself as America's favorite tomato-based social climber. (Now she has her own line of bags and shoes with Kate Spade?!)

Think of condiments as the cast of a reality show that's been running since ancient Rome.

• Ranch is the basic cheerleader who peaked in high school but still hosts all the parties.

• Hot sauce is the edgy art kid who studied abroad and won't shut up about it. 🖤 

• Ketchup is the former goth who now works in marketing but still has an "intense phase" story they bring up after two drinks.

This week we’re diving into the yearbook of condiment backstories and digging up the dirt. 

It all started with fish sauce. Doesn’t it always?

Garum was the original "it girl" of condiments, making its debut in ancient Rome with a price tag that would make Erewhon blush. This fermented fish sauce cost more than 2,000 loaves of bread—essentially the Roman equivalent of dropping your entire tech salary on small-batch oat milk. 🥛 

The production process went like this…ish

1. Acquire fish innards (locally sourced, before that was even a thing)

2. Top with sea salt (Mediterranean, obviously)

3. Put in an amphora (clay pots that were the Mason jars of their time)

4. Wait for several months of fermentation under the Mediterranean sun

5. The end.

The most prestigious garum came from a small town in Spain called Gades (Cádiz), but archaeological evidence shows entire Roman cities dedicated to garum production. Imagine if Brooklyn was just one giant artisanal mayonnaise factory.

And then came Ketchup…

Ketchup’s journey from Chinese fish sauce to America's favorite french fry companion is the greatest cultural transformation since Madonna discovered British accents. 🇬🇧 

The evolution went something like this:

1. Ancient China: Ke-tchup meant "fish brine" (no tomatoes in sight). The original recipe was basically fish entrails fermented with salt in sealed earthenware jars.

2. 1700s Britain: The experimental years brought us:

   1. Oyster ketchup (very "I went to boarding school")

   2. Mushroom ketchup (Jane Austen was a fan)

   3. Walnut ketchup (the British aristocracy's attempt at being exotic)

3. 1800s: Henry J. Heinz enters the chat in 1876. He wasn't actually the first to make tomato ketchup, but he was the first to bottle it without using that trendy new preservative: coal tar. Yes, other manufacturers were literally putting coal tar in ketchup.

Enter: Mayonaise

Mayonnaise is like that friend who claims they're "basically French" because their great-grandmother once had a layover in Paris. It’s not French! 🇫🇷 

Born in Mahón, Spain, it was appropriated by French chefs who gave it a fancy accent and started charging more for it.

The French version allegedly came from a victory feast celebrating the taking of Port Mahón in 1756. The Duke de Richelieu's chef, having no cream for a sauce, improvised with olive oil and eggs. 

But here's where it gets interesting: Mayo's path to global domination wasn't smooth sailing. Early skeptics called it "salad dressing" to avoid the foreign-sounding name (biiiig Ellis Island energy). Americans were initially terrified of mayo, convinced that mixing eggs and oil was a recipe for certain death. (I mean…their fears weren't entirely unfounded—in an era before refrigeration, mayo was basically playing Russian roulette with food poisoning 🤮 )

The Great Mayo Revolution came in 1912 when Richard Hellmann, a German immigrant deli owner in New York, started selling his wife's homemade mayo in recycled glass jars. The popularity forced him to open a factory, making him the original kitchen-to-factory pipeline success story.

🚨 Mayo Trivia 🚨: Japanese mayo (like Kewpie) only uses egg yolks instead of whole eggs, making it the overachiever of the mayo family!

Coolest Girl in School—Mustard

Mustard is the condiment that did study abroad…in every country…at the same time. Its history reads like a medieval backpacking trip through Europe (but like, if backpackers were really into grinding seeds and making paste).

The history of mustard goes waaaay back

Archaeological evidence shows mustard seeds in Chinese tombs from 2000 BCE and the Romans ground mustard seeds with grape must (hence the name), creating the first artisanal mustard.

By the Middle Ages, French monasteries had cornered the mustard market. Monks in Dijon weren't just praying. They were creating the world's first protected designation of origin for condiments. The Pope even gave his nephew the exclusive title of "Mustard Maker to the Pope." Yes, that was actually a thing.

Professional mustard makers were called "mustardarius" in Latin, which sounds like a spell from Harry Potter but was actually a highly respected position. 🧙 

 🚨 Mustard Trivia 🚨: The science behind mustard's kick is wild—the heat only activates when water hits the ground seeds, and you only have about 10 minutes of peak flavor. It's basically the Cinderella of condiments.

Bad Boy BBQ Sauce

BBQ sauce is America's most contentious condiment, spawning more regional feuds than college football. Each style thinks it's the only legitimate version:

Kansas City: Thick, sweet, and extra. Molasses and tomato base with enough brown sugar to make your dentist cry.

North Carolina: The vinegar purist that thinks everyone else is doing too much. Eastern-style doesn't even use tomatoes.

South Carolina: Went rogue with mustard-based sauce, creating the yellow gold that divides families.

Texas: Thinks sauce is optional…like turning signals or indoor voices. When used, it's thin and spicy, more of a meat moisturizer than a sauce.

Memphis: Sweet and tangy. Often served on the side because Memphis thinks the meat should speak for itself.

A few weeks ago we wrote a whole letter on the dramatic science of spice and capsaicin, the compound that makes peppers hot and that’s in a lot of BBQ sauces. 🌶️ How it isn't actually a taste—it's literally BDSM for your tongue.

Read all about The Scoville Scale and more here!

Doesn’t get more American than Ranch Dressin’

Ranch dressing is the most American story ever told…it was invented by a plumber. Steve Henson created it while working as a contractor in Alaska, proving that boredom and buttermilk can, in fact, change culinary history.

The science behind ranch is basically "if it's white and creamy, add it":

• Buttermilk (for tang)

• Mayonnaise (for body)

• Sour cream (for... more tang?)

• Herbs and spices (to pretend it's healthy)

Hidden Valley Ranch was an actual dude ranch in California where the Hensons served the dressing to guests. By the 1970s, Hidden Valley had developed a shelf-stable dry mix version, which is how ranch conquered suburban America.

The OG Umami Dealer: Soy Sauce

Born in China during the Western Han dynasty (2nd century BCE), soy sauce started as a way to stretch salt supplies but ended up becoming the emperor of umami.

The traditional brewing process goes like this:

1. Soybeans are boiled into submission

2. Add roasted wheat for that grainy essence

3. Incorporate some Aspergillus mold (the same family that makes everything from sake to penicillin)

4. A dash of salt (because obviously)

5. And on the seventh day we REST…for a long time…like 6 months to 3 years

The science behind soy sauce is pure flavor alchemy. During fermentation, proteins break down into amino acids, including glutamate (the G in MSG and the reason everything tastes better with soy sauce). It's basically nature's flavor enhancer.

Regional variations include:

• Japanese shoyu (lighter, wheat-heavy)

• Chinese light soy sauce (the everyday classic)

• Chinese dark soy sauce (the dramatic one)

• Tamari (gluten-free and won't let you forget it)

• Indonesian kecap manis (not like other girls)