Condiment predicament

Q: I peeled 15 garlic cloves, cut up two fennel bulbs and sliced two sweet Meyer lemons into transparent circles and tucked them gently under the skin of two perfect Cornish hens. I served each hen with a tender, organic green salad and toast points of a fresh, rustic loaf of bread.

Then, my dinner guest -- a friend for more than 12 years -- pulled the ketchup bottle out of the fridge! I was just so insulted and incredulous that I politely asked him to put back the ketchup bottle, nervously muttering that he hadn’t even tasted the hen.

He relented, but then brooded the entire evening. He called me the next day to admonish me further and say that he had talked to some of his friends.

They said that he should have been able to eat the dish the way he wanted. (He added that he never wanted to eat my cooking again.) I am really hurt, but I remain steadfast that it was my prerogative to have felt dissed! Is it an L.A. thing that I have never learned in my 20-plus years here?

-- Christine, Los Feliz

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It’s always fascinating when people try to blame a paucity of politesse on the palm trees. Maybe it’s the absence of a regional accent here -- barring the sugar-coated inflection of starlets and Valley girls -- that makes the genteel assume that Angelenos speak an argot of obnoxiousness. (FYI: Even Le Cirque in New York offers miniature bottles of ketchup to diners who choose to smother their $56 prime dry-aged strip steaks, so clearly Manhattanites are equally enamored with cheap tomato au jus.)

You may recall that Lucille Ball, in a 1956 episode of “I Love Lucy,” committed the ultimate gastronomic gaffe in Paris when she ordered escargot. If clamping her nose with the tongs wasn’t enough of an affront, she had the gall to ask the waiter for ketchup. He said, “Non way.”

Now, on to your pal with the skid row palate. Celebrity chef Rocco DiSpirito claims that you did wrong to deny a man his condiment. “Our jobs as chefs and hosts are to make people happy. If someone tells you that he needs ketchup, you give him ketchup,” says the frequent “Top Chef” guest.

“No one should ever feel bad for having certain preferences.” (Sounds very diplomatic, but I seriously doubt that a Heinz bottle would get between Rocco and his osso buco.)

Yes, your job as a host is to please. And clearly, to deny your chum his ketchup was displeasing to him. But at the same time, guests often forget that they have a responsibility to be gracious.

Your pal behaved more like boorish kin than company, and you acted like an exasperated, underappreciated mom on the verge of a culinary breakdown.

Socialite Liane Weintraub, who’s known for her dinner parties and coq au vin, says that her dear pals know better than to raid the fridge during a soiree. “There are definitely people I would body block from getting mustard or ketchup,” admits the co-founder of organic baby food line Tastybaby. “But I guess everyone is entitled to ruin their food.”

Ruining a friendship over food, however, is utterly tasteless. One of you has to raise a white flag, and why not make it a napkin?

I suggest that you invite your friend over for a massive plate of French fries. When he asks for the inevitable, present him with a personalized bottle of Heinz ketchup ($6 at MyHeinz.com) that reads: “Friends don’t let friends fight over condiments.”

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Do you have a social woe or an etiquette issue? Send questions to the Mannerist at monica.corcoran@ latimes.com.