Henry J Heinz famously had 57 varieties, but it is one in particular that has offended Cobham's latest gastronomic dictator.
Should any of Antonio Conte's players be bold enough to venture onto the radio show of famed Chelsea-disparager Danny Baker, the odds of contestants winning his famed sausage sandwich game ('red sauce, brown sauce, or no sauce at all') will be much improved.
Ketchup is off-limits under the new regime – something many a Chelsea fan would surely not relish.
But why has it caused the Italian such great offence?
The red stuff is a form of national icon in these parts.
Go west, and the Americans prefer smoky BBQ sauce, or chunky burger relish with their meals.
In Europe, tastes differ: curry sauce with German sausages; mayonnaise with Belgian fries; a fiery hot concoction with Spanish patatas bravas.
Even on this isle, there are regional differences: with pints of chip shop sauce, a sort of cocktail of red and brown mixed with vinegar, the preferred option north of the border.
French chefs notoriously look down on English diners who request it – but is there really anything wrong with something that has brightened up our fish suppers, as part of our staple diet for generations?
Well, if you're a top athlete there is.
The hint lies in another cafeteria item banned by the new Blues boss: fizz.
Britain is presently fighting a losing health battle against the ills of carbonated drinks.
Consumed by the gallon, particularly among younger generations, they are full of refined sugar that is bad for the metabolism, causes fake energy rushes and crashes, and are turning our country obese.
The government has slapped a sugar tax on these, to be implemented in years hence, in an attempt to address the issue – though some complain this unfairly targets the poor.
But Chelsea's footballers are neither poor nor obese – so what's the issue?
Conte is clinical when it comes to dietary matters.
And both ketchup and carbonated drinks cause chaos in such plans.
Chelsea's training open day in pictures:
There is also the issue that if a player is dousing his plate in ketchup, there is a good chance that the other things on it will be far from healthy.
The clues that this is a wider assault on junk food exist in the Italian's ending of the team's post-match pizza celebration.
While it may be good sports science to have a post-exercise feed, a stuffed crust is about the worst thing you could opt for: high in fat from the cheese, poor for lasting energy replacement due to the short-burst white flour dough, again high in sugar via the sauce.
Not to mention the affront to Italian sensibilities that a Domino's or Papa John's pineapple-topped monstrosity presents.
Don't get the impression, from all of this, that Chelsea's players were feasting out on Big Macs and Bargain Buckets under previous bosses.
Club catering has to be a very high standard for some time – going back to the days when Glenn Hoddle first swept his modern changes through the club more than two decades back.
I've never dined-out in the players canteen, but the same kitchens make the press food, and I've never seen a chip in the place. Compare, if you will, with the now defunct Upton Park – where I seldom saw anything but chips.
But, this is about elevating things to a higher plane: if still a million miles from the Team Sky ethos, where riders training for the entirely different athletic prospect of the Tour de France spend a month living off little more than rice cakes and complex cocktails of supplements.
Conte's methods are sound, and even the least receptive of players are likely to be far more amenable to the diet change than those who Hoddle had to persuade back in 1993.
So, farewell tomato ketchup – joining the short list of condiments to be banished from Chelsea Football Club.
The only previous occupant of that: salad cream, after an incident involving a goalkeeper some years back.
But I shall leave that sauciness for another day.