"La moutarde me monte au nez!", roughly translated it means, "that mustard is going up my nose." I knew exactly what this meant, aged 5, when I (innocently) dipped two fingers into a gigantic jar of mustard while horsing around in the family hotel's kitchen and stupidly licked them both. My nose suddenly turned into a mini live volcano, and with tears rushing down my cheeks I ran towards the nearest sink and stuck my head under the tap, accompanied by the hearty laughter coming from the kitchen staff.
No, that's not me then, this is the Mustard Man, from a Canadian skit he did for a sketch-comedy show called "The Endless Grind".
I didn't touch mustard until my early teens when I became really interested in cooking and experimented with it. The sensation of heat from mustard comes from a volatile oil released when mustard seed is mixed with water. In very hot mustards the "heat" travels up the nose, as I found out.
A word on this series: I'm trying to keep this up every Friday, depending on my workload which seems to mysteriously grow by the minute. So far I've done Salt, Pepper, Vinegar, and this week's Mustard. Next week it will be about Oils which may be split into two consecutive diaries so vast in scope and varietals that particularly wonderful ingredient means to our collective health.
(Obligatory Grey-Poupon pic above)
Mustard's history dates back at least 3000 years ago to ancient Asian, Egyptian, Greek, and Roman civilizations. Before I made a trip to Dijon in my late teens, I didn't know how mustard was made. It is made from the seeds of a plant in the Cruciferae family, (see pic below, notice the seed pods). Other plants in this same family include cabbage, turnips, and radishes.
Before Dijon, most mustards were made the usual way by crushing the seeds and mixing them with a liquid such as water, wine, vinegar, beer, or a combination of these plus seasonings like salt and perhaps other flavorings. It wasn't until a genial man named Jean Naigeon first created, in 1856, what would become known as "Dijon Mustard." What Naigeon did was a masterstroke of genius. He simply substituted verjuice (a sour juice made from unripe grapes) for vinegar. The result was a smooth, less acidic tasting mustard. And it could make, among other things, a fantastic sauce when mixed with good ingredients, as we'll see below thread.
Originally mustard was called Sinapis. Some students claim that during Roman times the word Sinapis started to be replaced by words such as Mustum, Mustarum, and Mustardum as new wine, or "Must" was mixed with mustard seeds to make a paste.
More recent theories come from France. In one, the Duke of Burgundy, Philip the Bold, gave the town of Dijon a coat of arms in 1382 with the motto "MOULT ME TARDE" (based on Multum Ardeo – I ardently desire). As the story goes, the motto was adopted by the town’s many mustard-makers, who eventually shortened it into Moul-tarde (to burn much).
Similarly, another story has it that the motto was given the citizens of Dijon by King Charles VI. In this version, the motto "MOULT ME TARDE" meant "Off to Battle." A humorous side note on this story was that some opponents of the Dijon army saw the motto but missed the "ME," in the middle, and came to believe they were dealing with an army of mustard-makers.
Growing mustard, it seems, is best adapted to cool temperate climates. Currently over 80% of the world's mustard seed is grown in the Prairie Provinces of Western Canada, North and South Dakota. Other growing areas include eastern Europe, the UK (I have to say here that I'm not a great fan of English mustard), China and India. And a couple of plants in my conservatory. The funny thing is that when you get your hands on some fresh mustard seeds and bite one, you won't feel anything. It's when it's mixed with vinegar or water that it releases its heat.
During my chef/restaurant days I used to experiment with just about every ingredient and if I recall right, I think I would have made up a large number of flavored mustards. It's quite easy, particularly if one has a blender or a high-speed magimix (also called robot-coupe in the trade). Then the sky's the limit, here's a few samples: lemon & cracked pepper mustard, hotter than hell Cajun mustard, Jalapeno mustard (try Habanero for extra kick), various honey mustards, pink & green peppercorn mustard, lime & cilantro mustard, dark ale mustard (I make my own Guinness seed mustard here), smoked paprika mustard, wild garlic mustard, all kinds of herb mustards, even a vanilla flavored one found its way to a dish of seared scallops. Choose your flavor, herb or spice, add Dijon or a similar mustard and press the button. Check the consistency by adding a dash of vinegar or a good nut oil, or both. Refrigerate for a few hours before use, and impress your friends. Nothing is greater than a display of say six or more mustards on a barbecue day.
A good Dijon (or any other reputable brand for that matter) mustard makes a perfect salad dressing, an unctuous mayonnaise and a sensational sauce to accompany just about any meat joint, fish or vegetables.
Here's how to make a typical mustard-based dressing, goes well with steamed vegetables, salads, even as a dip (with country bread). I make mine in liter batches, it keeps for weeks though it never last that long:
buy a 16 ounces jar of mustard (or if you have made your own, use that one), 1 cup (8 fluid ounces) of red wine vinegar, 2 cups virgin olive oil, 8 to 10 cloves of garlic, finely minced, a handful of flat parsley, also finely chopped, salt & pepper to taste. You will need a good whisk, a glass bowl bowl and plenty of elbow grease (you could use a blender but where's the fun in that?)
Scoop half the mustard into the bowl (keep the other half for whatever else you may need), add the garlic & parsley, salt & pepper, then slowly pour the vinegar, whisking all along. When it's all incorporated, add the oil ever so slowly and whisk till it's done. If you like a little more tartness, add the juice of one lemon or lime.
Moving along to an unbeatable mayonnaise recipe, with two variations: best done with free range egg yolks but don't panic if not available. For say 6 persons you'll need 3 egg yolks (kept at room temperature), 6 ounces of Dijon mustard, 10 fluid ounces of virgin olive oil, a squeeze of lemon, salt & pepper to taste. In a bowl, pour the egg yolks, and mix the mustard in with a wooden spoon or spatula, add salt & pepper. Grab your trusted whisk and slowly pour the oil and keep whisking till the desired consistency. Add the drop of lemon, and if you wish, you can also add some finely minced garlic and/or some finely chopped fresh herbs. My favorite variation is adding the flesh of 2 boiled & peeled potatoes and a teaspoon of smoked paprika. That is my definition of heaven! You can make mayonnaise as rich as you like by adding a dash of beaten cream for that extra velvet feeling.
To make a stunning mustard sauce you need a piece of meat or poultry. It goes OK with fish as well but I'd rather use it on a piece of meat for obvious reason: the pan juices and the combination of mustard & cream does it justice.
The following recipe can be applied to either chicken breasts, beef sirloins or as I'm doing here, a few thin escalopes of pork loin (as long as you know where the pig was raised and is not tainted with antibiotics). This is done quickly and served immediately. For 2 people (double up if you're cooking for 4 and so on) you will need 2 pieces of pork loin per person, a pot of mustard, some double cream, a little brandy, butter, olive oil, some cracked black pepper and salt to taste.
In a skillet, over a high flame, add a dash of olive oil and a knob of butter. When it's melted put your meat pieces and cook them on both sides for 2 minutes or thereabouts. When it's done put them in a warm dish by the stove and grab the brandy bottle, add around a single measure of brandy to the pan and flambé the alcohol off, stirring the skillet with a wooden spoon to collect the meat juices and the bits that are stuck onto the pan. Then add 1 soupspoon of mustard per person, and 2 of cream, also per person. Season with a little salt and ground black pepper, stirring well. The sauce should be bubbling nicely and if you wish, sprinkle your favorite herb (rosemary in my case) into the sauce. Put back the meat onto the skillet for a few seconds and serve.
Throughout history various uses for mustard has found its way to traditional folk medicine and Chinese herbal medicine to treat a variety of ailments such as bronchitis, colds, rheumatism, toothache, ulcers, and stomach disorders.
Mustard, in poultices or jars, is one of the first home remedies. It has been around in one form or another, for at least 3,000 years. The Christian Bible mentions mustard seeds, and those pungent little seeds were used for muscle aches, colds and in poultices for chest congestion. You may have also heard of mustard enemas, a sadistic way of punishing troublesome kids in the past. And of course, the dreaded mustard gas has nothing to do with the mustard plant. (Nice mustard field below)
A few "mustardy" references from the past:
Abraham is said to have served tongue with mustard.
The Egyptians are said to have eaten mustard seeds by chewing them along with meat.
6th century BC: Pythagoras mentioned mustard as a cure for scorpion bites. (Okay, that’s not a seasoning, but it is interesting. It appears that Pythagoras had theories about more things than right triangles.)
6th Century BC: The story of Buddha, the lady, and the mustard seed.
500 BC: Aristophanes wrote of mustard-spiced stews.
200 BC: The Roman playwright, Plautus, in Pseudolus, has the cook saying: "It is rubbed with criminal mustard, which burns the eyes of those who grate it."
1st Century AD: Pliny the Elder claimed that mustard would improve lazy housewives.
9th Century AD: During Charlemagne’s reign, mustard was cultivated on imperial lands and in the monasteries in Paris.
- Someone found unconfirmed references that Benjamin Franklin was responsible for bringing mustard to the United States.