Mustard is one of my favourite condiments, unlike other Canadian kids who put ketchup on their Kraft Dinner, I put mustard (I do know this is a bit strange). Mustard sandwich, why yes please. But this English mustard was a mystery to me.
When planning a trip to Australia I was warned by an English friend about the mustard. He explained to me; ‘it is very hot so all you need is a tiny little bit’. He went on to tell of stories when he was younger and he and his mates used to watch American tourists in Cornwall order hot dogs and slather the mustered on, then take a bite and spend the next 5 minutes in tears from the mustard they had so liberally poured on their food.
When I found myself in Sydney ordering a sandwich, I asked for mustard, I watched her put a sliver of it on the knife and thought why how stingy! I was on the verge of asking for more when the warning my friend had given came to mind. I didn’t say anything. Despite this stingy layer of mustard, my taste buds were not used to such a powerful version, none of me was I, my eyes watered, my nose stung, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t take another bite, I got rid of the evil thing and avoided anything yellow not labeled American mustard for many years.
Now long after that trip to Australia and finding myself in England surrounded by this hot mustard I started to experiment with it. Over the years have come to love it, and I believe become used to the strength of it even. I believe I could finish that sandwich I tossed away and enjoy it now.
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