I love mustard as a condiment. I thought about how much I enjoy it as I added it to a sandwich at lunchtime today. It was a great capper on a tortilla rolled with Muenster cheese, ham, and turkey. It added a vibrant, flavorful tang.
Mustard is a terrific, flavorful item. It enhances just about everything it touches. It’s the counterbalance to mayonnaise, another favorite, in the magnificent flavor spectrum that is food.
Honey mustard is a special treat as well, when used appropriately. It’s also a great dipping sauce for chicken tenders and other fried delights. I’ve even enjoyed it on a hamburger or two, when the consistency is just right and the bread is a little buttery. It works on certain types of french fries.
Whenever I hear the scripture about having the faith of a mustard seed, I think, “My faith is delicious.”
Generally speaking, I really love mustard.
The one type of mustard that I do not like, however, is dijon mustard. It has all the sting of horseradish and none of the delicious charm. I question why dijon mustard was invented, and what sick person who was likely also of low moral character invented it.
It serves as a useful reminder that it’s best to look carefully and judge each mustard on its own merits. You can’t just blindly grab a mustard and put it on a sandwich, or fries, or hot dog. You have to consider and examine the mustard to make sure it is as it appears.
You may laugh, but I have added mustard from one of those self-service lard pumps and realized I had just doused an order of food in dijon mustard.
Of course I still ate it after scraping off as much as I could. That’s not the point. The point is that it stole my joy. We make compromises in life, but they can still be disappointing. Dijon mustard is always disappointing.
That’s why I never understood those Grey Poupon commercials. Aside from these psychopaths requesting and sharing condiments among strangers, they were requesting a bad condiment.
If someone drove up and asked me for dijon mustard I’d point at them and howl like Donald Sutherland at the end of Invasion of the Body Snatchers.
I think I’ve made my point. Mustard is a wonder and a treat, but even wonderful things can be tortured into a miasma of tastelessness. I’m sure there’s a lesson in there about something that you dislike, too, so let’s just pretend I was speaking secretly just to you and we understand each other a little better.
Unless, of course, you like dijon mustard. Then I can’t understand you at all.