Slather it on hot dogs or use it in chili, beef stew and in dressings
If a food can possess gender, perhaps there is no manlier ingredient than mustard. Often indelicate and forward, mean Mr. Mustard is the companion condiment to many a brutish manwich, from the classic Reuben and Cuban to bratwurst and knockwurst, and hot dog or soft pretzel. With a scent as distinctive as roasting peanuts and freshly popped popcorn at the ballpark, it is known as America’s silver medal spice (next to the most commonly used peppercorns).
Most of the mustard we know is in the form of a condiment. But this prepared concoction is actually derived from the seeds of the mustard plant. The same family as Brassica or Sinapis genera, mustard plants are close relatives to a surprising variety of common vegetables, including broccoli, cauliflower, turnips and cabbage. Most prepared mustard contains an acidic liquid, and so the combination of spice and acid wakes up the taste buds, as well as the nostrils.
The Romans were the first to grind the spicy seeds into a spreadable paste and mix it with a flavorful liquid—usually wine or vinegar. Egyptian pharaohs stocked their tombs with mustard seeds to accompany them into the afterlife. French monks, who mixed the ground seeds with “must,” or unfermented wine, inspired the word “mustard,” which stems from the Latin mustum ardens (roughly, “burning wine”). In cafes and bistros all around France, mustard in a crock is placed on the table next to the salt and pepper.
Dijon Debuts
After conquering the Gauls, the Romans brought mustard seeds with them, and these seeds took root in the fertile soil of France’s Burgundy region. By the 13th century, Dijon, the capital of Burgundy, had emerged as a hub of mustard production, creating the groundwork for the invention of the region’s signature “Dijon mustard” in 1856. A new flavor dimension was added to old recipes when the change of the acid element in mustard from vinegar to verjuice—the acidic juice of unripe grapes—took place. This change became so easy to copy that the recipe couldn’t be confined to a single city. Today, Dijon mustard can be made anywhere in the world. But many mustard lovers can tell you their affair with the condiment began with their first taste of the mustard that made Dijon famous.
Dijon isn’t the only place with a favorite local mustard. The American variety, the yellow, squeeze-bottle stuff from French’s and Coleman’s, is actually a marketing success story.
The familiar shade of yellow to which mustard lends its name owes its hue not to mustard seeds themselves but to the vibrantly colored turmeric added for an extra kick of spice and brightness, thus mutating the traditional recipe further. Crushed mustard seeds alone vary from a pale yellow to a dark brown, depending on their variety, but “turmeric yellow” wasn’t likely to sell as well.
Other common regional mustard varieties include English, “French mustard” (actually invented in England as a less-spicy alternative to English mustard), Bavarian sweet mustard, Italian fruit mustards (mostarda), Midwestern beer mustard, Creole mustard and so many wildly different German mustards that the phrase “German mustard” is essentially meaningless.
Invigorating the Palate
For chefs, mustard is very versatile. As a condiment it adds depth of flavor and invigorates the palate with a punch of flavor. As an element in dressings, mustard can emulsify, or merge, the oil and vinegar, stabilizing the mixture into a smooth mixture that more easily coats its ingredients.
I use it to finish, or season, everything from a pot of chili or beef stew to soups and cream sauces. Like the bay leaf, it should add a subtle hint of flavor so that you cannot identify the actual flavor added, only the sensation of that addition.
As a fundamental blend of spices and acidic liquid, neither of which have the potential to truly spoil, mustard is a shelf-stable food. Refrigeration is advised to keep mustard’s spicy kick from dissipating too quickly, but it isn’t strictly necessary. The mustard’s flavor will decline over time, but unless rogue food particles have gotten into the container, there’s nothing to worry about.
So pass the Poupon, man, and enjoy!
Robert Lhulier is proprietor of Robert Lhulier Cuisine, personal chef services.
