They're Sauces

Another one of those moments: Bryan, Robert, and I were having dinner at a good, clean Vietnamese restaurant in Irvine. Bryan pointed to some small canisters on the side of the table and asked me, "What are those?" I replied, "They're sauces." Perfectly valid answer, I thought. But the answer police...the answer-Nazis...the answer-nistas found my answer inadequate and/or incomplete. So they scolded me and tried to reeducate me in one of their reeducation camps. Damn Nazis.