Opinion | Summer’s war on taste buds has officially begun. First up? Ketchup cotton candy

Summer is officially here and so is the war on our taste buds.

Remember when ketchup was squirted on hot dogs and not molecularly engineered in a gustatory lab to flavour carnival treats? I miss those days. Condiments were condiments. Desserts were desserts. No menu item was revolting.

The foodstuff taxonomy back then had oven walls to prevent hybrid abominations such as “Krispy Kreme’s Pulled Pork Sandwich” or “Smoked Salmon Ice Cream.” You never spotted a kid at the CNE sipping a “Mac & Cheese Pickle Soda.”

Outside of a prison commissary run by sadists, there was no “Tuna Salad Fruit Punch.”

Those days are gone. Now food companies hire mad scientists who can devise ways to stir gummy worms into a Bouillabaisse. Big Food has gone Big Nuts.

And this time they have gone too far.

More proof of the empty-calorie apocalypse arrived this week. The press release would leave even an extreme eating champ feeling queasy. French’s, the sauce behemoth, has teamed up with Treats for Us, a Canadian confectionary.

It’s like an unholy alliance between the makers of stairlifts and bungee cords.

Their new gag reflex is called “French’s Ketchup Cotton Candy.”

Per the release, it features “100 per cent Canadian tomatoes,” a coveted ingredient in all sugary treats. It also promises to be “curiously delicious,” which is the semantic equivalent of “pleasantly terrifying.”

The good news is this is “limited-edition.” So there will be time to get your stomach pumped before the fall. For those who are deliciously curious, free samples will be available at pop-ups next week. On Tuesday, between 11:30 a.m. and 3:30 p.m., Torontonians can try French’s Ketchup Cotton Candy at 55 Bremner Blvd., an apt location since Maple Leaf Square is now ground zero for the taste of suffering.

I know what you are thinking. Why am I making a salt mountain out of a German molehill cake? Maybe this will be a culinary hit. French’s claims Canadians “raved” about last summer’s “Ketchup Ice Pops.” My guess is most of those ravers were in their first trimester of pregnancy. If I were a McCormick & Company shareholder, I’d want French’s to stick to core competency and maximize profits with territorial expansion while knocking it off with deranged recipes for Ketchup Funnel Cakes.

What’s on the docket for summer 2024? Worcestershire Chocolate Mousse?

This is a classic case of Two Things That Do Not Belong Together. You know, like Oreos and orange juice, sushi and maraschino cherries, or Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. It’s true. Ketchup is remarkably versatile. But so are mushrooms and I don’t see anyone spraying whipped cream and sprinkles on their shiitakes.

Remember a couple of years ago when guacamole was crowned Canada’s No. 1 condiment. Ever since, Big Ketchup has been running scared. Remember those birthday parties you attended as a kid and how nobody wanted relish on their burgers? Ketchup now lives in fear of becoming the relish of the 21st century.

Salsa has already dethroned ketchup. Wasabi is getting competitive.

So now ketchup is partnering with cotton candy, the black sheep of carnival snacking. What even is cotton candy? It’s stuffed in a tub or twirled on a stick. Then you rip off strands that have the texture of fibreglass insulation. It never feels like you are eating cotton candy. It evaporates on your tongue and evades your esophagus like a Cold War spy. If you offer cotton candy to a ravenous dingo, it will sigh, curse in Latin and then bite your face. Did you know 97 per cent of Canadians addicted to cotton candy also believe Pierre Poilievre won Mr. Universe in 2003? It’s true. Look it up.

And then Google, “Why are so many bizarre foods launched in summertime?”

Winter is the best grazing season. There is an evolutionary emphasis on hearty comfort food. When it’s minus 25, nobody wants tenderloin tiramisu. The cold helps our stomachs see straight. The hot makes us susceptible to culinary crimes against humanity such as Ghost Pepper Banana Splits or O. Henry Haggis.

French’s says its new and accidental contribution to the Vomitorium Hall of Fame “combines some of the best traditions the season has to offer, ketchup and carnivals.”

Yes, those are great seasonal traditions — so long as they are separated and kept at a safe distance like bleach and vinegar. Ketchup on fries? Great. Carnival waffles? Great. Catsup corn dogs? Great. Candy apples? Great, provided no bobbing is required. But as soon as Big Food experiments with Ketchup Snow Cones, that’s a wrap.

Condiments are the supporting actors in the movie of dining. They are never the leading stars. Sriracha is not a main course. Balsamic brownies will lead you to a gastroenterologist. A soft pretzel that mimics chocolate mint is a mistake. The only exception I’ll make to this rant is Nutella, which can make Styrofoam delicious.

We need to take a stand against the bizarre foods foisted upon us every summer. Silence is palate violence. A milkshake should not contain rutabaga. A Neapolitan scoop should not be topped with dead crickets. This is not complicated. Improving cotton candy with a ketchup infusion is like trying to patch a bike tire with thumbtacks. You’re just making everything worse.

They keep saying it’s the end of days. If so, there is no time for indigestion.

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