Red Gold is mentioned in this Neil Steinberg piece, which appeared in the May 4th edition of the Chicago Sun Times.

The other item that reached its end before the root beer was my visit last weekend to the orchestra recital in Villa Park. Afterward, we were driving home down North Avenue when we passed the venerable Hamburger Heaven at North and York. It was 10:30 a.m., a little early for lunch under normal circumstances. But we had eaten early and lightly, in our scramble to get to the competition on time, and besides, how often does one find a hamburger stand exuding quaintness, one that isn't part of a 10,000-unit chain? 

 If McDonald's is ersatz in every aspect, from its friendly/scary clown to its "shakes," then Hamburger Heaven is its opposite. The food came in a plain brown paper bag. There was no ice in the root beer, because ice is unnecessary. "It comes out cold, on tap," explained employee Sue Carter. "If we put ice in it, it would be watered down." How fresh is the Richardson's root beer they serve? They make it as they need it. "Three Saturdays ago, we were really busy, and we made it three times in one day," said Carter.

 Each of us ordered root beer, and we immediately compared it to the gold standard -- Carlson's Drive-in in Michigan City -- and decided that it didn't have the same fall-to-your-knees-and-sing-hallelujah impact, but then again it wasn't August, and that might be a factor.

 The most amazing thing was the ketchup. Our onion rings came with packets of Red Gold ketchup, from the Red Gold Company of Elmwood, Ind.

Red Gold. Who knew? I assumed that behemoths Heinz and Hunt's had divided the ketchup world between them long ago. Finding Red Gold was like going to a restaurant that serves RC Cola instead of Coke or Pepsi.

 Not that it tasted any different, as far as I could tell. It's ketchup. It tastes like ketchup. But just knowing that it is made of Indiana tomatoes, that it isn't coming in from the tomato fields of Yemen in giant tanker ships, was somehow bracing in these dreary economic times.

 I later browsed the Red Gold Web site, the first truly quaint corporate home page I have ever seen. A characteristic entry from their timeline:

"1962: Ernie Reichart is elected president of the Indiana Canners Association. His heartfelt speech ['An Indiana Canner Speaks His 'Piece'] at the November 1963 state convention is roundly applauded, and congratulatory letters pour in [all saying, in effect, 'Attaboy Ernie.']"

 I called Theresa Warren, assistant brand manager at Red Gold, who bragged there are no snooty East or West coast tomatoes in Red Gold ketchup.

"They're all grown mostly in Indiana," she said. "We do have a few growers in Northern Kentucky or Southern Michigan, just in case of bad weather."

I asked how the taste of Red Gold ketchup stacks up to Heinz -- a slow pitch down the pipe if ever there was one -- and she knocked it onto Waveland Avenue.

 "We believe ours is the more tomato taste," she said.

She is shipping a bottle, and I will let you know how it compares.

Neil Steinberg, in the May 4th edition of the Chicago Sun Times