French Fries In Holland: Conversations with Pagans

Vincent: You know what they put on French fries in Holland instead of ketchup?
Jules: What?
Vincent: Mayonnaise.
Jules: Goddamn!
Vincent: I've seen 'em do it, man. They fuckin' drown 'em in that shit.

-“Pulp Fiction”

Goddamn is right. Mayonnaise on French fries? WTF?

I was reminded of this…heresy…

No, no, let me try again…

I was reminded of this…quirk…

Arrgghh! Okay, again…

I was reminded of this abomina--- perfectly reasonable choice in condiments, recently, in conversation with a friend (who otherwise seemed normal). It all started with an innocent conversation about bologna sandwiches. Bologna sandwiches: safe as houses, right? Well, I thought so too. And then things took a dark turn when the conversation turned to condiments…

Me: I like mustard, or sometimes oil and vinegar…
Her: Oil and vinegar? What’s wrong with you? Ewww…
Me: Huh? Oil and vinegar is a classic! Why, what do you…
Her: Bologna sandwich with mayonnaise.
Me: (horrified grimace, hand on mouth)…
Her: What?

Now let’s be clear on this: I am not a mayo hato. Er, mayo hater. I like mayonnaise in small amounts, on things like turkey sandwiches. Or BLT’s. Or shrimp salad. Ooh, even on that really good shrimp and bacon club at the Cheesecake Factory, the flavored mayo! I’m not talking about Miracle Whip or “salad dressing” either. Believe it or not, I used to eat potted meat sandwiches with a thin schmear of Miracle Whip or whatever it was that lived in my fridge growing up. But those days are LONG gone. Erp. Making me queasy just thinking about it. I do like real mayo, the kind made by beating olive oil with egg yolks, vinegar, salt and maybe dry mustard. I just don’t eat it in large quantities or very often.

So yeah, mayo is good on some things. Just not on good cured deli meats or salumi (if I may wax Italian for a bit). Hold on, the room is spinning….

Whew, I’m back. It just doesn’t seem right. More than once I have ordered an Italian hoagie with everything, thinking that surely they must know what they are doing, only to get the sandwich, take a bite, and have mayonnaise squirt out all over the place and ruin perfectly good salami or capicolla or prosciutto. Makes me squirm. Along those lines, never order an Italian cold cut with everything in place with a name like Kelli’s Deli. Or Yung’s Subs and Chinese Carryout. Bad move. Almost guarantees mayo, or even scrambled eggs. But that’s another story.

So how does that relate to the bologna with mayo heresy? Well, bologna is one of the quintessential comfort foods from childhood. And the doctrine was: white bread, yellow mustard, pink bologna. A perfect Trinity handed down by the High Priestess of Domesticity, All Things Love…I speak, of course, of MOM. And mom made the best bologna sandwiches, ever.

So when I grew up (sort of) and started experimenting (“don’t worry, dear, it’s normal, all kids have those urges”), I tried other things on my bologna sandwiches. Oil and vinegar. Brown mustard. Spicy brown mustard. It was different from the Mom-made sandwiches, but similar enough to be in the same ballpark. I still enjoy a good spicy mustard on my bologna (that’s what she said, hehheh; Shut up, Beavis!) because it hits the spot. And I don’t feel like a sinner when I eat it. But mayonnaise? Get thee behind me, Stan!* My tongue balks, my stomach howls, I gnash my teeth**. Bologna and mayo, it’s just not meant to be.

In all fairness to the person I was debating theology, er, discussing condiments with, she did patiently explain to me why mayo for her bologna sandwiches. It kinda made sense, it’s what mom used to make***, grew up with it and all that. I finally saw the light, sort of.

Mayo versus mustard: it’s sort of like the difference between the Lutheran Missouri Synod and the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, different pages, same book. So we reached a delicate equilibrium and decided to each his or her own.

After all, we both know which is the One True Church, don’t we? (wink) Come, come to the light…although I may just try that mayo on the fries thing...


*That’s right, Stan, not Satan. Stan was the counter man at deli that shall remain nameless. Nice guy, but lawdy, man, ease up on the frickin’ mayo!
**Happens a lot when I’m hungry. Like right now.
***Even if mom was a heretic, still had mouths to feed. So that’s cool.