Vinegar: Its Uses Throughout History

It smells like dirty feet, singes your nose hairs, and the fermentation is useless for inebriation. But vinegar, my friend (the vinegar; I hardly know you), you sure make a tasty salad, give my fries some flair, and make my favorite kind of cucumber. You baste my pasta salad in liquid exhilaration and sinuously repel my zealous couch-scratching felines; you usurp the inferior ketchup in Canadian drive-thrus, deceitfully deflect the evil Mosquito, and confuse birds with the power of your glass cleansing proficiency.

Vinegar, I could not, would not live without you.

If you were to google yourself, you would find nearly two million entries describing your variant abilities. You can take out coffee stains, remove gum from hair, eradicate age spots, kill weeds (when hot), and maintain the integrity of my poached eggs (just a spoonful).

My acidic pal kills head lice, soothes my sore throat (just gargle a tablespoon), can pacify my athlete's foot (a good vinegar bath will do the trick), and ease my sore muscles (that's right, it goes with me in the bath).

Vinegar tackles the unwanted car decals that need removing, polishes car chrome (3 parts to one part water), prevents the dreaded ant from taking over the kitchen (just spray a few drops near their favorite line-up spot).

You can save cut flowers by adding a few drops of vinegar to the vase of water, dissolve rust from tools, spigots, and squeaky hinges, act as turpentine, kill slugs, clean my veggies (a tablespoon plus a quart of water), and with the help of your weight in bleach and water, exterminate mold and mildew.

Add a half cup of vinegar to the wash cycle to prevent lint from sticking to clothing, attacks juice and tomato stains with a little dabbing, stamps out the smell of smoke in linen, shine up my microwave and oven, and take labels off of gifts.

The ancients knew of your magic: The Babylonians pickled their foods, the great Hippocrates prescribed vinegar to relieve ailments (like sore stomachs), and made Helen of Troy relax in her bath (she thought it helped her relax). Even Cleopatra consumed you. She diluted pearls with your acidic wonder to prove she could consume a fortune in a meal.

Best of all: you are self-made. You make acetic acid from the exposure of aerobic bacteria to alcohol, and contain no ill-side effects of man made exploits.

Vinegar, you are more than just a "dressing;" You are a wardrobe.