Shocking secrets of tartar sauce

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I am a late bloomer. Out of an unnatural proclivity to sloth, I didn’t taking up skiing until age 40, canoeing until age 50 and sailing until age 60. This week, I learned how to make tartar sauce. As God as my witness, I never…
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I am a late bloomer. Out of an unnatural proclivity to sloth, I didn’t taking up skiing until age 40, canoeing until age 50 and sailing until age 60.

This week, I learned how to make tartar sauce. As God as my witness, I never knew that the mysterious condiment, served by every clam shack and seafood restaurant, was so simple. I thought it was as secret as the “mystery sauce” in the 3-D burgers (early Big Macs) served by the Howard Johnson’s restaurants and the garlic salad dressing at Conte’s Restaurant in Rockland.

My latest bachelor cuisine addiction is Van de Camp’s crunchy fish sticks, purchased in volume from Sam’s Club. When I bragged about my delicious and very cheap regimen, one South Portland acquaintance asked whether I had them with tartar sauce. I never had purchased tartar sauce in my life and always assumed that its consumption was limited to restaurants, where skilled chefs had the secret recipe.

“It’s mayonnaise and relish, stupid,” was the reply.

I was shocked by the rudeness of the reply as well as its content. It was too absurd that such a delicacy was the simple mixture of mayonnaise and relish, both of which I possessed in mass quantity. I hung up the phone and went to the refrigerator to conduct my culinary experiment.

It was true.

I had learned the trick that probably every high school student learns in home ec class, along with how to use a washer and dryer. My new favorite meal – fish sticks and roasted, sliced potatoes with onions and garlic, green beans and corn – was even better.

What other secrets are they keeping from me?

Of course, nothing is that simple. A quick tour of the Internet will find a bewildering array of recipes for tartar sauce. To the basics of mayo and relish, the Flying Dutchman site adds lemon, horseradish (never bought that either), onion, red or green pepper, garlic, hard-boiled eggs, Tabasco sauce and ketchup.

Much too involved.

My man Emeril goes even further. He adds eggs, lemon juice, parsley, green onions, cayenne pepper (forget it) and Creole mustard (right). I would be in Pen Bay Medical Center after one bite.

Recipe Source Web site adds chopped onion, chopped fresh basil, chopped capers and grated lemon peel.

This is getting too complicated. Grated lemon peel?

The recipes on the Angel Web site adds mustard, parsley, lemon juice, salt and pepper, shallots and capers. (Where would I find shallots and capers?)

The Epicurious site adds green onion, capers, fresh parsley, lemon juice, Dijon mustard (I have some of that), tarragon (no), Worcestershire sauce and hot pepper sauce (never).

With the exception of Mrs. Dash and salt and pepper, I cannot remember ever buying spices. I moved into Cobb Manor in 1985 and most of these spices came with me. I have no idea where they came from. Some of them are stuck to the counter. Some of them, untouched for almost 20 years, look as aged as I do. Do spices go bad?

I believe I will stick to the basic tartar sauce recipe, with perhaps onions and Worcestershire sauce added.

Next, I will learn how to make macaroni and cheese as part of the new men’s liberation movement.

Soon, we won’t need women around at all. God knows they don’t need us.

Send complaints and compliments to Emmet Meara at emmetmeara@msn.com.


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