Episode 13: Ketchup Through Time and Innovation

Lily Vogue

Welcome back to another episode of “What the Fact?!”! We’re kicking off Episode Thirteen, and today’s topic is, dare I say, a truly ketchuped-up journey through time. Trust me, you won't look at your burger condiment the same way again.

Buster McGillicuddy

Ketchuped-up? Really? Goin’ bold straight out of the gate, huh? Is this what they call sophisticated wordplay?

Lily Vogue

Ha, you know, Buster, it’s an art—some might say a rarefied skill set. Anyway, before we dig in, a quick thanks to our sponsor, AI Salon, theSalon.ai—the one-stop shop for, well, looking and thinking a whole lot sharper than our usual dressing-room ketchup debates.

Buster McGillicuddy

Hey, speak for yourself! I keep my ketchup opinions highly refined. Course, AI couldn’t possibly improve on my charm and wit.

Lily Vogue

Hmm, debatable. But AI Salon probably could help polish up your sense of timing. Anyway, let’s get started before this spirals into condiment chaos.

Lily Vogue

Alright, buckle up, Buster, because this one’s going to blow your ketchup-loving mind. Back in the 19th century, ketchup wasn’t just something you slapped on fries—it was actually marketed as medicine! Yep, people thought it could cure digestive troubles. Imagine that.

Buster McGillicuddy

Wait, let me get this straight—someone slathered tomato puree on their toast and woke up expecting what? A miracle?

Lily Vogue

Oh no, it’s even wilder. A man named Dr. Archibald Miles claimed his tomato concoction could treat everything from indigestion to, uh, jaundice. And people bought it—literally and metaphorically.

Buster McGillicuddy

I mean, was this the same era as leeches and radium water? Suddenly ketchup doesn’t sound so bad.

Lily Vogue

Exactly. This was the golden age of unregulated “cures,” when snake oil salesmen roamed free. Ketchup was just the tomato-flavored jewel in that dubious crown. No FDA, no oversight—just pure entrepreneurial chaos.

Buster McGillicuddy

Can’t decide if I’m horrified or impressed. What did Dr.—I’m guessing “doctor” in, you know, finger quotes—base these claims on? Vitamins? Magic? Because I gotta tell ya, my great aunt swore by pickle juice, so tomato juice feels like a lateral move at best.

Lily Vogue

Well, there was this idea that tomatoes were a “superfood” thanks to their lycopene content—not that anyone called it that back then. But mostly, it was marketing spin. People were, let’s say, a bit more... trusting back then.

Buster McGillicuddy

Trusting? More like desperate. But hey, why stop at digestion? Hangnail, toothache, heartbreak—just add ketchup?

Lily Vogue

You joke, but Miles even turned his ketchup into pills.

Buster McGillicuddy

Pills?! Okay, I need a minute to process that. But before I lose it, I’ve got an idea. What if we bring back medicinal ketchup? Let’s call it... “McGillicuddy’s Miracle Sauce.”

Lily Vogue

Oh no, you’re not doing this.

Buster McGillicuddy

Sure I am! Just a dab cures dull podcast episodes, and an extra squirt might even fix bad segues.

Lily Vogue

Buster, this is not a good time to reenact 19th-century marketing fraud. Listeners, let me be clear: ketchup will not cure anything except maybe your craving for fries. Do not try this at home.

Buster McGillicuddy

Spoilsport. But fine, I’ll keep my miracle sauce dreams... bottled. For now.

Lily Vogue

Smart choice. And on that note, let’s rewind history even further, to ketchup's stranger origins.

Lily Vogue

Alright, Buster, while you’re busy bottling your “Miracle Sauce,” let’s take a step back. Ever wonder where ketchup really came from—not tomatoes, but its original story? Spoiler: it wasn’t always the king of the condiment world.

Buster McGillicuddy

Oh, I don’t know, Lily, I just assumed it fell from the heavens in convenient little packets. Enlighten me.

Lily Vogue

Alright, brace yourself. Ketchup started out not as tomato-based at all, but as a mushroom sauce. Back in the 18th-century UK, it was popular for seasoning fish and meat.

Buster McGillicuddy

Mushroom ketchup? Don’t get me wrong, I love mushrooms, but that sounds... uh... earthy. Like, maybe too earthy? Was it just soggy mushrooms in a jar?

Lily Vogue

Not quite. It was actually more like a fermented liquid, packed with umami. Kind of sophisticated for its time, but it definitely wasn’t the sweet, red stuff we know today.

Buster McGillicuddy

So ketchup’s humble beginning was fancy fish sauce. Got it. But when did we start squeezing it on fries like it’s a constitutional right?

Lily Vogue

Well, the big shift happened after tomato ketchup entered the scene. The US really ran with it in the 19th century. Commercial production began, and soon sweetened tomato ketchup was all the rage. Heinz launched their version in 1876, and the rest is history.

Buster McGillicuddy

Ah, Heinz. The ketchup king. You know, their stuff dominates—it has what, like, 60 percent of the market in the States?

Lily Vogue

That’s right, and it’s even bigger in the UK—82 percent there. It wasn’t just the formula; industrial-scale production really sealed the deal. The preservation techniques made it shelf-stable, so ketchup was everywhere.

Buster McGillicuddy

Okay, so let me get this straight: Heinz tomato ketchup crushed the competition by basically outlasting everyone else? I mean, it’s impressive, but there’s gotta be a little irony in that for a food so famously hard to get out of the bottle.

Lily Vogue

We’ll get to that irony soon, but for now, let’s appreciate how ketchup went from, well, fishy origins to global dominance. It’s remarkable what a little sugar, vinegar, and clever marketing can do.

Buster McGillicuddy

And here I thought it was just a diner thing. Turns out ketchup earned its stripes on the battlefield of condimental history. Who knew?

Lily Vogue

Oh, there’s still plenty more to uncover. Speaking of battles, let’s talk about one ketchup struggle we’ve all had—getting it out of those stubborn bottles.

Lily Vogue

Speaking of those stubborn bottles, Buster, let’s pivot from history to science. Here’s a fun tidbit—ketchup’s maddening behavior isn’t random. It’s actually a non-Newtonian fluid, which means it doesn’t flow like ordinary liquids. That’s why getting that last drop can feel like a battle of wits with your lunch.

Buster McGillicuddy

Wait, non-Newtonian? Are we talking Einstein-level ketchup here? What does that even mean—does it have an IQ?

Lily Vogue

Not quite. It means its viscosity changes depending on the force you apply. You could say, the harder you smack it, the runnier it gets.

Buster McGillicuddy

So you’re telling me ketchup gets shy, but if you whack it enough, it spills its secrets?

Lily Vogue

Exactly. And if you’ve ever struggled with a glass Heinz bottle, you’ve probably noticed they even recommended tapping the "57" logo on the neck. That spot applied the right force to get it flowing.

Buster McGillicuddy

Man, they basically turned ketchup into a riddle. What’s red, sticky, and needs a secret handshake to pour?

Lily Vogue

Well, thankfully, modern innovations came to the rescue. Take Heinz's "Dip and Squeeze" packets, for instance—perfect for fries or individual ketchup needs without the bottle battle.

Buster McGillicuddy

Oh yeah, those are handy. But let’s be real, Lily, the true innovators are the folks who just give up and slam the bottle upside down until it floods the plate.

Lily Vogue

You mean the chaos enthusiasts? Sure, but the Dip and Squeeze was designed to avoid exactly that mess. And let’s not forget Heinz’s colored ketchups—they had green and even blue versions for kids in the 2000s.

Buster McGillicuddy

Green ketchup? Blue ketchup?! Guess I missed the psychedelic condiment years. Didn’t anyone stop to ask, “Should we?”

Lily Vogue

Apparently not, because they actually sold pretty well at first. But, like most trends, they faded out. Still, you have to admire the effort to keep ketchup... exciting?

Buster McGillicuddy

Oh, I’ve got an exciting idea—imagine a ketchup drone! It hovers over your plate, drizzling just the right amount. Lazy? Sure. Genius? Absolutely.

Lily Vogue

Buster, you could single-handedly drag the entire ketchup industry back to the 19th century with ideas like that.

Buster McGillicuddy

Hey, at least I’m forward-thinking. But fine, let’s stick to the Dip and Squeeze marvel of engineering. What’s next, ketchup in 3D-printed shapes?

Lily Vogue

You joke, but the leaps ketchup has made—going from liquid fish seasoning to modern packaging marvels—is a story in itself. Speaking of packaging, let’s not overlook sustainability efforts like refill stations in fast food joints. Those are making a comeback.

Buster McGillicuddy

Refill stations, huh? That’s great until someone hogs the pump. Nothing says “ketchup camaraderie” like a line of angry fry holders.

Lily Vogue

Fair point! But whether it’s packaging revolutions or its scientific quirks, ketchup has earned its place at the table—in every sense. And on that note...

Buster McGillicuddy

Ah, I feel it—that’s the gentle “we’re wrapping up” tone. Alright, Lily, hit us with the outro.

Lily Vogue

Well, that’s all for today’s episode of "What the Fact?!" From medicinal miracles to non-Newtonian quirks, ketchup has had quite the journey. Thanks for tuning in, everyone, and as always, keep questioning the facts, even about your favorite condiments. Until next time!

Buster McGillicuddy

And remember, folks, the best innovation of all… might just be ketchup on a hot dog. Debate me if you dare!