How about coffee? Mayonnaise? Whipped butter?

I like mustard on my fries.

It's weird, I know, but I've done it for years (originating during my years working at McDonald's in high school -- nothing turns you off to the normal fry condiment like constantly wiping stale, wet ketchup off trashcans, tables and trays). I used to like only mustard because of that acquired ketchup aversion, but now I generally mix the two whenever I eat fried potatoes in any form.

But unlike most mustard connoisseurs, I like the plain old yellow stuff -- none of that fancy schmancy deli mustard with horseradish or whatever else. Just the standard, bright yellow French's for me, thanks. It seems a pretty simple preference to me, if slightly odd.

That is, until a conversation held between myself and a waitress at the Flying Biscuit a few nights ago....

Waitress: [setting down Fried Egg Sandwich with Moon-Dusted potatoes - yum!] Can I get you anything else?
Manda: Could I have some ketchup please , and - do you have plain yellow mustard?
Waitress: I'll go check.
Manda: Thanks.
Waitress: [returning with ketchup bottle moments later] I'm sorry, we don't have mustard. But we do have balsamic vinaigrette.

Hmm.... okay.

I thought about this odd conversation later when I was working with a couple who are having trouble communicating their needs to one another and finding ways to meet those needs together (actually, most of the couples I see are struggling with that in one way or another). It must seem strange to constantly need one thing in a relationship and always get back something entirely different -- so different, in fact, that it seems almost nonsensical.

And it must be strange to be the other partner, too -- to hear that your mate needs something but have no idea how to give it to them. They want mustard, and all I can think of to offer is balsamic vinaigrette.

The waitress was earnest, apologetic, and almost seemed a little desperate when she came back to the table. It's kind of like she knew that her suggestion was not going to meet my needs in any way, but could think of no other options under the pressure of wanting to make me happy... or at least to offer me SOMETHING, even if it was salad dressing.

I guess some days we can only offer the best we can... and somehow it has to be enough.