Way too much ketchup (and definitely no mustard)

Not to be dramatic. But my summers were ruined for a while. My favorite summer nosh became tainted. Tainted I tell you.

They were summer family barbecues and my big brother's baseball games.

They were way too much ketchup and definitely no mustard.

They were the trademarked scent of every 4th of July party.

And they were the reason I stopped eating meat.

That's right; I'm talking about hot dogs; those savory meat wieners nestled in a pillowy bun. Little gap-toothed Cara was obsessed.

Until…

I was 9. I was at a family pool party for some summer holiday. The barbecue was blazing and I was ready.

Ready for my soggy little pool fingers to receive my beloved summertime sandwich, (side note: is a hot dog a sandwich? Or perhaps it is a taco...) that I would absolutely drown in Heinz ketchup. It had to be Heinz, of course.

I wasn’t ready for what was about to happen.

“Do you even know what those are made of?” blurted out my older, 11-year-old cousin.

She was so cool. So big. So smart.

And also…a vegetarian like her mom.

“Uhmm…..no?”

“Well, they’re pig guts.”

“Oh. My gosh, what?!”

“Yeah, you heard me, the guts of a cute little pig. Oink oink.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It couldn't be.

I looked down at my ketchup-covered hands, "Me? A pig murderer?"

Until then I don’t think I ever really thought about where meat came from.

I went home that night and told my parents I wouldn’t be eating hot dogs anymore or anything else that came from an animal's insides. NO THANK YOU.

My summers weren’t the same after that. It was the early 2000s. Delicious meat alternatives didn’t really exist yet.

My summers turned into tasteless veggie burgers that were somehow both soggy and burnt, doctored by crunchy, salty potato chips under the bun and as per usual, too much ketchup.

The parties would suck as the scent that once lit me up, now smelt like sadness.

I would survive though. And so would a couple more pigs and that was enough for me.

Fast forward to Citifield about 6 years later.

I was watching the Mets play with my family.

The stadium was amazing and brand-spankin' new.

But I felt empty. What is baseball without a hot dog? Sure there were athletes with cute butts in tight pants. But it wasn’t the same.

“I’m gonna go walk around and see if I can find any good vegetarian food" I said to my family without a glimmer of hope in my voice.

I slunk my way around the stadium reading the menus.

Crackerjacks? Barf.. A pretzel? If I have to… A vegetarian hot-?

Cue a cartoony eye rub and a double-take.

“A WHAT? A VEGETARIAN HOT DOG?! DO MY EYES DECEIVE ME?”

Speaking as one of the most indecisive people on the planet, I’ve never ordered faster in my life.

My inner 9-year-old smothered that thing in way too much ketchup and definitely no mustard.

I ran back to my seat so I could show my family and finally enjoy a game of baseball once again.

I took a big ol’ bite of that bad boy and immediately slipped into a panic.

“Is this real? This tastes real!”

I turned to my brother. He looked at it.

“No way in hell that's real, it doesn’t even look like meat.”

“Will you please take a bite for me and make sure? I can’t remember what meat tastes like!” I said with my heart in the pits of my stomach thinking I just ate some pig guts for the first time in years.

He could see I was upset and in typical big brother fashion, he rolled his eyes and took a bite.

“Yeah definitely not real, it tastes like rubber.”

With the biggest smile on my face, I said “not to me! To me, it tastes like summer!”

"Okay, good for you."

Once I was able to find those babies in stores, barbecues became exciting again. I could proudly present my rubbery dogs to the host, and show them they needn't worry. I would in fact be able to have a barbecue treat.

I had a reason to go to sports again.

July 4th weekend held a real meaning and I didn't have to suffer through any more sad veggie burger-potato chip sandwiches.

Do they taste like the real thing? Don’t know, don’t care.

I put absolutely way too much ketchup on those things to notice. And because I’m an adult now, maybe a little mustard too.