There are certain talents that I take great personal pride in having… Blowing spit bubbles off my tongue, re-creating the mating call of a morning dove, and of course magic. There’s one however that I hold higher than the rest… This artistic mastery can be applied across many mediums, but I developed this skill atop the delicate crust of a Pillsbury Toaster Strudel. I’m of course referring to the lost art of condiment penmanship.
With each delicious Strudel (strawberry cream-cheese being the best choice) comes a tiny packet of icing. This icing could be ripped open and dumped carelessly over your morning delight in poopy ugly lumps. Or it could be snipped open and strategically applied using thin perpendicular lines running east to west, north to south allowing for an even distribution of icing in every single bite. I refer to this method as ‘the perfectionist’.
From such humble beginnings my steady hand gave life to more sophisticated drawings- sea-scapes, calligraphy, and graffiti designs. Other forms emerged; mustard and mayonnaise, relish, even the always tricky no-drip ketchup which fires out of the bottle like an Electromagnetic Rail Gun on a Navy Destroyer.
Now that I’m old and mature, my condiment penmanship has, like some of my other talents (besides magic), become a lost cause. But the other day, I just couldn’t help myself with the French’s Mustard.