The Rich Man's Ketchup

My wife and I were having dinner, not unheard of, on the living room sofa. This night it was a meal of frozen entrees: homestyle French fries and Quorn fake chicken nuggets, with bowls of yoghurt and fruit on the side. We were nearly out of ketchup, so I brought in some mustard and an ancient jar of cocktail sauce.

"Ah, cocktail sauce," I mused. "The rich man's ketchup."

My wife looked skeptical. "Is that really what they call it?"

"Well, it sounds like something from The Simpsons. So I doubt it. But it's a good name. Maybe this is our million dollar idea. 'The rich man's ketchup' will be the slogan. We just have to invent the sauce."

She thought for a moment over a French fry. "Condiments? I don't know. It's a pretty crowded market. Think about the condiment aisle in the supermarket. Salsas. Mustards. Ketchup." She paused." And of course catsup."

"Catsup. Now that," I said, "is the rich man's ketchup."