Ketchup Conundrum

10.30.06

You have to give ketchup its due. Anything that can make both scrambled eggs and hamburgers taste better than they already do is working a certain amount of mojo. Outside of an organic ketchup here, a low-sodium ketchup there, and maybe a colored ketchup for kids, it’s a fairly consistent condiment. There are only so many ways to combine tomatoes, sugar, and vinegar, it seems. Instead, most of the advancement we’ve seen in ketchup is not in the product itself, but in the packaging. There’s a bottle that will fit in the door of your fridge, there’s a bottle that won’t give you all of that tomato water that used to be so prevalent, there’s still glass for the purists, there’s plastic for the modernists, and there seems to be a ketchup container for just about everyone. But with all of this advancement in ketchup packaging why—why?—are ketchup packets so woefully small?

During any given french-fry session, I use no fewer than four packets of ketchup to get an adequate puddle for dipping. Even a hamburger requires two packets on average. In fact, only hot dogs are the appropriate size for a single ketchup packet, and I don’t think I’m alone when I say that I usually rock my dogs with mustard and kraut, forgoing ketchup altogether. Let’s forget, for the moment, the annoyance issue of having to open all of these little ketchup packets individually and instead focus on the waste that’s created by having to use four or five packets, when I should be able to get away with using one larger packet. Not only that, but obviously it’s impossible to squeeze all of the ketchup out of a packet, and so I’m leaving four packets’ worth of unused ketchup residue behind, as opposed to one. So come on, ketchup companies. Let’s make this most American of condiments fit into the American mold—bigger is better.

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