Kayo's Homemade Ketchup

I could eat ketchup on anything and everything. French fries, in all their salty, greasy greatness, are nothing but a mere vehicle for the sweet, tangy rush of gobs of ketchup. One tiny matchstick requires at least 1/4 cup of the crimson sauce. Burgers should ooze scarlet -- and not just bovine blood. Hot dogs should force the condiment to envelope your chin. Eggs, rice, toast, hell even the most perfectly roasted potato is taken to heavenly heights when dragged through a pool of ketchup.

Addictions are meant to be fed, and if I couldn't get my fix from a corn-syrup laden plastic squeeze bottle, then we certainly had to come up with something close or risk the unbearable symptoms of total withdrawl. This recipe was not an easy one. We cooked up 3 or 4 batches before Ben would even deem it "bloggable", and he still isn't completely satisfied. I, however, took one look at it, dipped in one finger, and then another, savoring the sweet relief, closing my eyes while my veins delivered everything I had been craving. Sometimes, ketchup is so good that it doesn't even need a vehicle.