I understand the principles of buying in bulk — pay a smaller per-unit price, spend the next six months plowing through chicken parts, or cottage cheese, or Frosted Flakes, trying to beat the expiration date.  And I’ll usually spring for the larger package if I can save money.  However, there are those recipes that call for things you never need again:  exotic spices you’re hesitant to omit, for fear the curry won’t taste right; bizarre condiments such as horseradish, that we only use around Passover anyway; and anchovy paste.  Nuff said. 

Today, I needed mayonnaise.  Now, being a Jewish household, we are startlingly devoid of such products as Wonderbread, Kraft singles, and mayonnaise.  I understand these three form the ideal trifecta of the cheese sandwich, or, rather, the processed cheese food product sandwich.  Because, really, who needs gelatin in their sliced “cheese”?  And does Wonderbread ever grow mold on it?  And mayonnaise I happen to find most vile.  Most vile indeed.  I’d much rather Mr. Apron load up his sandwiches with horseradish dijon mustard, or vidalia onion spread, or red pepper hummus.  That slimy white condiment has no right to smell “tangy”, except that it’s made with vinegar and eggs.  What?  How does that make for an opaque white sandwich spread?  See?  It’s highly suspect.  And highly repulsive.  Your opinion may differ, but it’s wrong.  As my preschoolers would said, “Dat’s nasty, teacher”.   Of course, they’d be talking about any number of things.  I’m talking about mayo.

But I needed mayo today.  Needed.  As in, the dish I am making for Mr. Apron’s birthday meal contains mayo.  And though I had joyously purged our fridge of our 90% full jar when we moved (does mayo expire?), I needed it now.   Today.   In the smallest possible portion so I don’t have to stare at its deviant whiteness for the next year and a half, or however long it takes Mr. Apron to take one for the team and use it on his sandwiches.  They make an 8oz jar of real mayo, for $2.35.  Or you can buy the largest vat with the easy access flip-top lid sold in the store for $2.50.  That’s a full 32 oz of mayo.  So you can get 4 times the spread for $.15 more.  The really strange thing was that prices seemed to drop as I scanned down the shelves towards the larger vats.  I don’t mean unit price — I mean retail price.  The 15oz jar was $3.35, which seemed absurd to me.  And then you can more double it to 32 oz for less money.  Yes, yes, it was on sale.  And I felt like a total douche for not getting the 32oz swimming pool.  How much did my recipe call for, do you suppose?  1/3 cup.  1/3 x 8oz, or approximately a little less than 3 oz. 

I think what I should start doing is ransacking the fast food restaurants for their comdiment packets.  Then I can have all the mustard, relish, mayo, horseradish sauce (Arby’s), hot sauce, mild sauce, medium sauce (Taco Bell), barbecue sauce I need without the annoying wasted food.  Of the above condiments, we stock only mustard in our fridge.  That, and Heinz ketchup, which happens to be stocked in a 32oz squeeze bottle.  All for me.  Mr. Apron doesn’t like ketchup.  So it’s all mine.  In 32 oz.  Cause it’s cheaper by the ounce, and I’ll use it anyway, somehow, before the expiration date.  Don’t judge me. 

At least it’s not “Miracle Whip”. or “Cool Whip”.  What are those anyway?

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