Commendation for Condiments
How I first fell in love with the stability of mayo; then greedily changed teams for the thrill of chile crisp
Have you ever loved a condiment so much you planned your entire meal around it? No? Oh…
Well, I have. TBH? I do.
Humiliated though I am to say so publicly, I only discovered my affection for mayonnaise at age 22. For all the years I’d spent consistently consuming condiments, the custardy white one had long given me the heebie jeebies. Thus, for those first two decades of my life, I steered right clear of the stuff.
Until… one day, out of the blue, I gave it a shot. I don’t remember the exact moment — the exact sandwich or the specific setting — but when I suddenly became brave enough to consume this egg-and-oil-based spread in its proper, condimental role on, most likely, a deli sandwich of sorts, I fell for it: truly, madly, deeply.
From that point forward, my feelings for mayo were akin to those one feels when basking in the glow of a new boyfriend: obsessed. Not uncommonly, I woke up thinking about it; wanting it; figuring out how to incorporate it into my diet. I planned my meals to ensure its inclusion.
In lieu of jelly, or peanut butter, or honey, I wanted Duke’s mayonnaise slathered on my toast, topped with a thick slice of summer tomato and sprinkled with kosher salt. I wanted Duke’s on the underside of my toasted burger lid, as close to the square of melted American cheese as possible, creating a creamy, tangy, pale-orange paste that sent my tastebuds a ‘titter. And even though I had staunchly turned my nose to the French-fry-and-mayonnaise combination I’d observed while on a European vacation back in the year 2000, as a 22-year-old convertee, mayonnaise opened up a new frontier for my French fry consumption: not only was I eager to dunk my potato sticks straight into a ramekin of it straight-up, but other mayo-based dips and spreads, as well as classic combinations like mayo mixed with ketchup, kept me interested and engaged. I was completely in love!
Perhaps my new obsession was a way for me to make up for twenty-two years of lost time. Or. Maybe mayonnaise was like the Billy Crystal to my Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally: whereas my initial visceral disgust resulted in a cold shoulder for two entire decades, a chance encounter finally led to our inevitable inseparability. We became joined at the jaw; best friends who often flirted with more; a dynamic duo who was truly meant to be! Right?
Sort of.
It’s been over a decade since our first official rendezvous, and I still pledge my allegiance to mayo — and wholeheartedly believe Duke’s Real Mayonnaise reigns supreme — but I now fear that, unlike Harry and Sally, we won’t have the stereotypical rom-com ending. To be clear, mayo and I aren’t getting in a fight, or breaking up, or going our separate ways, or anything like that. She’s just no longer top of mind when I’m creating my meal plan for the week. However, there is someone new who has captured my attention over the past year or so. And she can no longer be kept in the shadows.
Her name is Chile - Chile Crisp. Lao Gan Ma Spicy Chile Crisp, to be specific. And she’s become my right-hand girl. My full-blown obsession.
Look- Mayo, Wait! Don’t get mad. Hear me out!
Mayonnaise has done more for me over the years than just spruce up my sandwiches and reinforce my love of deep-fried spuds. She’s helped moisturize, tenderize and tangify (made that word up) my grilled chicken. She’s turned a regular ol’ broccoli floret into a sweet and tender stalk bursting with flavor and texture after a slow dance on the grill. And she’s dutifully used her ability to bind as a means of turning nearly any food into something that can legally be designated a “salad.” She’s given me so much flavor — and even a bit of protein! — but what she hasn’t necessarily done is consistently made dinnertime feel quick and effortless. And that’s where chile really shines.
See, it’s not uncommon that I find myself preparing three distinct dinners in one single night to satisfy the astonishingly diverse tastes of a one-year-old, a three-year-old, and two 30-somethings.
My daughter’s favorite foods include eggs prepared in any fashion, plain avocado, spinach sautéed with garlic and mushrooms, and jelly beans. My son, however, throws a fit in the presence of eggs, is offended by avocado, prefers feeding the spinach to our dog (who also won’t eat it), and could very easily choke on a jelly bean at his age. Whereas he gobbles down pasta, she doesn’t. Whereas he has a borderline addiction to fruit, we often bribe her to eat it. Usually with jelly beans.
Wesley and I will eat anything and everything — gas station pizzas, grocery store sushi, a seafood spread from a stranger we met on the beach in the Dominican Republic who, we later discovered, cooked our food overtop a literal pile of flaming trash! — but are admittedly snobby about the food we cook for ourselves. We get down on a frozen pizza every now and then, but as two people who actually like to cook and love to eat, we don’t take that route very frequently. On a typical weeknight, we cook recipes that can be put together in under an hour, that often have at least an element of “health” involved, and most importantly, that are very fucking tasty. But that’s easier said than done!
And (to finally get to the point I’ve been leading up to for the past 900 words — thanks for being here) chile crisp has proved an invaluable partner in actually making this happen.
This not-too-spicy, perfectly salty, decadently crunchy and ever so slightly tingly condiment has the ability to turn a humdrum plate of scrambled eggs into a meal I’ve actually dreamed about — and regularly crave. It turns what might otherwise be considered an unappetizing combination of stir-fried tofu and fresh summer vegetables into a bright and satisfying meal I consider making weekly. It goes with pasta, and dumplings, and rice, and vegetables, and eggs, and pork, and — although I haven’t tried it yet — I’d forecast giving two big thumbs up when drizzling it over a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream.1 It’s a miracle-worker! A renaissance condiment! It can do it all, and in so doing, makes my life both a helluva lot easier and nearly heavenly tasty.
No, if you were wondering, I don’t actually use this condiment to create a meal that my entire family can eat and enjoy together. Even without a miracle condiment, that sounds like a laughably impossible feat. But what I have done is discovered a shortcut that, when used properly (and frankly, any use of it is considered “proper” in my book), can turn a slightly sad and potentially basic adult dinner into something exciting; something worth raving about. And that offers a value that, to me, is priceless.
At the end of a long day, I don’t want to have to resort a dinner that’s merely palatable. I deserve more than that. I’ve earned more than that! Chile crisp gives it to me; a slam dunk night after night.
Of course, chile crisp could never replace my first love, mayonnaise. I mean, just imagine combining apples, celery, walnuts and grapes with a crispy and crunchy oil-based hot sauce in your Waldorf Salad! The audacity. Dare I even say it? It would. not. work! But during this time in my life where dinnertime is almost always a crunch — where I don’t regularly have the foresight to marinate my chicken in mayonnaise hours in advance and where boiling and then peeling a dozen entire eggs to make egg salad sounds like a special form of torture — I’ll take all the shortcuts I can get.
So, cheers to chile crisp! My condimental bestie for the restie.
Now please enjoy the below “8 Recipes I love and Cook Regularly,” each of which obviously heavily features this dreamy, flavor-bomb ingredient. Bon appétit!
Cheesy Scrambled Eggs, Mayo-Slathered Sourdough Toast, and Chile Crisp - no actual recipe needed (Truly dazzling photo inspo below)
Are there any condiments that make you nearly condimental? That you couldn’t imagine your life without? Drop me a comment and help me clog up my pantry even more :)
Woof!
Mom Dog
PS – I’m obviously a staunch devotee of the 24oz jar of Lao Gan Ma Spicy Chile Crisp available on Amazon for $12.50 which gives me a solid five or six months of pure unadulterated flavor. But. Next on my agenda is David Chang’s Momofuku Chili Crunch — the very condiment that ensnared him in publicly embarrassing legal battles, due to his effort to trademark the term “chile crunch” and, in so doing, sending cease and desist letters to every small business across the country that was using the name for their own proprietary product #eyeroll) since, according to the reviews, it is apparently “the best” (I’ll be the judge of that, thank you very much) and which is also, according to the sponsored content clogging up my Instagram feed, supposedly available for sale at Costco. Y’all know where to find me tomorrow!
PPS – Yes, I could obviously make the stuff myself. And I have in the past. But mama ain’t got time for that these days, so Lao Gan Ma it is, baby! Why fix something if it ain’t broke?
PPPS – Thank you for reading this far about … mother fucking condiments. I love you. Now, go one and subscribe if you aren’t already, or share with someone you think should!
Case in point: after finishing this article and thumbing through NYT Cooking’s recipes tagged with “chile crisp” for new ones I needed to try, I found this. On that note, please click here to find NYT Cooking’s entire catalogue of recipes tagged with “chile crisp” and thank me later.
Scrambled eggs with rice and chili crisp is a must try if you haven’t gone there yet!!