Being saucey

Dining out this evening and thinking about my last post about ketchup has made me think some about sauces.  To the French, sauces are of utmost importance.  I must admit that I have never taken the time to “master” the French “mother” sauces.  (have you seen “The 1,000 Foot Journey”?  It’s worth a watch.)  I make gravy every day at work, and I love pasta with marinara sauce, so those two are no problem.  A good sauce can make a dish, however, and a bad sauce can break one.
I ordered a burger at a restaurant the other day because it had some special sauce on it.  I don’t usually order burgers in restaurants because they are so simple to make (actually one of the few things that is easy to make for a single person such as myself), but this burger boasted two–not one, but two!– sauces.  One may not technically be a sauce.  It was maple something onions.  I wouldn’t consider grilled or sauted onions a sauce, but caramelized onions, all sweet and gooey, I think of as being saucey.  The second sauce was an aioli.  I’m not a big fan of mayonnaise on hamburgers, but aioli?  Lets go for it!  The problem was neither of these sauces had much flavor.  Maybe they cancelled each other out?  There was actually so little of each one on the burger it was hard to tell.  I almost asked for ketchup but decided not to.  (Surprisingly, there wasn’t any on the table even though this was a bar-and-grill type place.)  It wouldn’t have been homemade ketchup anyways.

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