Condiments are older than recorded history. Before refrigeration, before agriculture, before writing, humans were already mixing sauces to preserve food and enhance flavor. The condiments we know today—mayo, ketchup, mustard—are evolutionary descendants of ancient preservation techniques that traveled across continents, survived wars, and adapted to changing tastes. Their histories are intertwined with empires, trade routes, and the globalizing forces that shaped modern cuisine.
Mustard is the oldest of the three, with roots stretching back over 3,000 years. Ancient Romans ground mustard seeds into a paste and mixed it with unfermented grape juice (called "must"), creating "mustum ardens"—burning must. That name eventually became "mustard." Roman legions carried mustard everywhere they went, using it to preserve meat and add flavor to bland military rations.
By the Middle Ages, mustard had become a European staple. French monks in Dijon perfected the recipe, replacing grape must with white wine or verjuice (unripe grape juice), creating the smooth, sharp condiment we associate with French cuisine. Dijon mustard became so prized that by the 13th century, the town had official mustard-makers' guilds regulating production.
In 1720, a woman named Mrs. Clements of Durham, England, developed a mustard powder by grinding seeds and removing their husks. This "Durham mustard" became wildly popular in Britain and later inspired Colman's Mustard, founded in 1814, which remains a household name today. When European settlers brought mustard to America, it evolved again: in 1904, George J. French introduced "cream salad mustard," a mild, yellow version sweetened with sugar and colored with turmeric. This became "yellow mustard," the hot dog companion we know today.
Ketchup's origin story is stranger than fiction. The word likely derives from "kê-tsiap," a fermented fish sauce from southern China's Fujian province, dating back to at least the 17th century. British sailors encountered this sauce in Southeast Asia and brought the idea—not the recipe—back to England in the 1700s.
Early British "ketchups" bore no resemblance to what we squirt on fries today. They were thin, salty, fermented sauces made from mushrooms, walnuts, anchovies, or oysters. These ketchups were used sparingly as umami-rich flavor enhancers, similar to soy sauce or Worcestershire sauce.
Tomatoes entered the picture in America in the early 1800s. Though tomatoes had been cultivated in the Americas for millennia, Europeans initially feared them as poisonous (they're part of the nightshade family). By the 1830s, American cooks were experimenting with tomato-based ketchups, and in 1876, Henry J. Heinz revolutionized the condiment world.
Heinz's innovation wasn't the recipe—it was preservation. Most ketchups at the time used coal-tar preservatives or benzoic acid, which were eventually deemed unsafe. Heinz used vinegar, sugar, and airtight glass bottles to create a shelf-stable ketchup without harmful additives. His slogan? "57 Varieties," a number he admitted was entirely made up but thought sounded appealing. Heinz ketchup became an American icon, and by the 20th century, tomato ketchup had displaced all other varieties, cementing its status as the world's most popular condiment.
Mayonnaise is the youngest of the three, with a murky but elegant origin. The most popular legend credits the Duke of Richelieu's chef, who in 1756, after the French victory at Port Mahon in Menorca, Spain, invented "Mahonnaise" (later "mayonnaise") by emulsifying oil and egg yolks.
Other stories claim mayo descended from "aioli," a Provençal garlic-and-oil emulsion, or from Spanish "salsa mahonesa." Regardless of which story is true, by the late 18th century, mayonnaise had become a fixture in French haute cuisine.
Mayo crossed the Atlantic in the 19th century, where it remained a luxury item until 1905, when Richard Hellmann, a German immigrant, started selling his wife's homemade mayo from his New York deli. Hellmann's wife used a blue ribbon to mark her best batches, which became the brand's iconic logo. In 1912, Hellmann began mass-producing mayo in jars, making it accessible to average households.
Around the same time, a California company called Best Foods was producing its own mayo on the West Coast. In 1932, Best Foods bought Hellmann's, but the two brands retained regional identities: Hellmann's east of the Rockies, Best Foods to the west. Both are now owned by Unilever and remain America's best-selling mayo brands.
By the mid-20th century, mayo, ketchup, and mustard had become global staples. Post-WWII American influence spread these condiments worldwide through fast food chains, military bases, and exported processed foods. McDonald's, arriving in foreign markets in the 1970s, brought ketchup and mustard to places they'd never been mainstream.
Interestingly, local adaptations emerged. Japanese mayo (Kewpie) is tangier and richer than American versions, using only egg yolks instead of whole eggs. In Belgium and the Netherlands, fries are served with mayo instead of ketchup—a preference that baffles Americans but makes perfect sense to Europeans.
Today, these three condiments dominate global markets. Heinz sells over 650 million bottles of ketchup annually. Hellmann's produces over 5 million jars of mayo per day. Mustard, though less centralized, is produced by hundreds of regional brands worldwide. They're not just condiments—they're cultural touchstones, symbols of modernity, convenience, and the blending of culinary traditions across borders.
What's next? Artisanal versions are surging—small-batch mustards, organic ketchups, and avocado-oil mayos. But the classics persist. After thousands of years of evolution, mustard, ketchup, and mayo have proven themselves adaptable, durable, and universally beloved. They're not going anywhere. If anything, the future belongs to them.