Bow before my mad condiment skillz.

OK, so this PM I’m jonesing for a snack. And I’ve got the remains of a luuvly rotisserie turkey in the frig, all tender white meat. So I’m thinking, “What do I do with this succulent but blah white meat of turkey? Mayonnaise? Again?” Naaa. Too bland. I want a bit of hotcha-cha-cha with my sammich.

Now, I love Worcestershire sauce so much I can even spell it. So I dip a shred of turkey in some. The flavor of the WS is just absorbed, leaving a brown tinge and a taste of salt. Underwhelming at best. If only the sauce had some body, some suspension…

Suddenly I am struck by a bolt of inspiration worthy of the late H.B. Reese: PUT THE WORCESTERSHIRE SAUCE IN THE MAYONNAISE!

I shklorp a heaping tablespoon of mayo into a ramekin, followed by…hmm let’s see…ok, a level tablespoon of WS, and blend thoroughly. It turns a pleasant beige color. I dip another shred of turkey. Not bad! Sort of a

To Be Continued!

Jesus! It killed him!

My God! It’s full of stars!

The lesson today, children, is to never EVER mix your mayo-phors…

It also might have prevented this condoment breaking.

remoulade kinda effect, only darker brown in taste. Salty as heck, too (which I like). But it’s still a bit flat and sweet somehow.

Then the masterstroke: about 4 shakes from the small bottle of Tabasco. Suddenly it comes alive! Salt plus sweet plus spice: the holy trinity, bound together by their comely handmaiden, fat. This stuff tastes pretty danged good, in other words. I slap a turkey sammich together, eat, then wipe out the ramekin with the last of the bread.

Now I need a name for this stuff so I can stuff it in jars, sell it on street corners and the web, and clean up. I was thinking Worcesternaise, possibly Doug’s Hot 'N Spicy Worcesternaise, but it lacks that certain come-alive feeling I experienced when the Tabasco went in. Plus it’s harder to spell than “Worcestershire” and “mayonnaise” put together. So that’s out.

Perhaps dedicate it to The Great Man himself—Cecilade? Naaa, people might rhyme it with “lemonade” and assume it’s a drink, ideally a drink made by infusing slices of Cecil in water.

Anyway, I had the idea, you guys give me a name. If you care to, make some yourself first. It’s yumptious!

Doug, you recover like a professional figureskater. Nicely done.

But…whyyyyy, why, whyyyyyyyyyyy??? :frowning:

:dubious: Isn’t this reminiscient of the Nixon era? 13 minutes of missing dialog?

According to Arlo Guthrie, that was Dick listening to Alice’s Restaurant. In which there must have been condiments… It’s a conspiracy!

What’s a ramekin?

That’s a ramekin.

If you ever ate crème brûlée, crème caramel, or flan, you probably ate it out of one.

Easily googled.

ok, I give, what is a ramekin? I know I could google or wikipedia, but sd responces are always infinatley more entertaining By the by, a sprinkle of paprika wouldn’t hurt, the tabasco will overpower it anyway but it will improve the color.

Dammit, does anyone know what a freakin’ ramekin is? You people are useless.

Not a bad idea. The stuff may look beige, but it sure doesn’t taste beige. However, I’m concerned the paprika may make it look pink. People would then confuse it with remoulade, and there goes my marketing plan.

What’s a ramekin (non-Wikipedia version):
It’s a shallow ceramic bowl with straight-up-and-down sides. They’re usually small (mine was, in fact, teeny, well below the Wiki article’s lower threshold of 5 inches in diameter), but have been made up to 5 feet across, I guess for flan festivals in Spain or somedamnthing.


The four flavors in Thai cuisine are sweet, sour, salty, and hot, so you’re almost there. Toss a bit of lemon juice in there, and watch the Universe explode.

Mayo already has lemon juice in it, I thought.

How about Dr. Doug’s Root Juice? Do it right, and you could do for food what Dr. Bronner did for soap. :smiley: