The Family that Eats Mustard together...

Tonight, at Sunday dinner, we served a yummy pot roast with assorted vegetables (including purple potatoes!). As is my wont, I put out two condiment jars on the table: cream-style horseradish and my new favorite Lemon Dill mustard from Earth & Vine. I like mixing the earthy, sinus-clearing experience of the mustard with the delicate lemon infused mustard. Now, for those of you keeping score at home, I am already on my second jar of my new favorite mustard. And it's approximately $8 a jar. No worries -- it's all coming out of Baby Balsamic's college fund. There will be no college after the oceans raise and flood out humanity; I'm just going to teach her how to surf and wear sunscreen. Lots and lots of sunscreen.

Big Daddy Condiment was over tonight and after sampling the Lemon Dill mustard, held up the jar and said, "Would you mind if I just dumped the contents of this jar straight into my mouth?"

And here's one for the baby book: Baby Balsamic asked for "condiments" with her dinner. It was the first time I can remember her using the word "condiment." It's almost as memorable as the first time she said "Mama," which I actually can't remember now.

Baby Balsamic's habit and the cost of the jar did give me pause as she went through piles of the expensive mustard with her dinner, just like I do. Everytime there was a hole on her plate, she would say "More mustard, please." I think she ate about $3 worth with her meal. The beef cost more. Ah well, now she will never have bad diseases due to the turmeric content.

Clearly, I was switched at birth with someone like Paris Hilton, so Baby Balsamic should be eating only the finest condiments off of silver plates in our summer home on the French Riviera. Wolfgang Puck would create a special ketchup just for us to eat at the grand openings of all his flagship stores, we would attract so much attention.

Condiment Grrl

But Where Were the Sport Peppers?

I've included pictures in this post!

So, this summer, Mr. Mustard, Baby Balsamic, and myself did a little midwestern roadtrip to visit a variety of friends and family members. We journeyed from St. Paul to Wisconsin (cheese curds!) to Michigan (depressing cities!) to Chicago, a great city that I had never visited before.

But I was familiar, oh so familiar with their hot dogs. You see, duckies, millions of years ago, at the dawn of time, when I was in college and there was ANOTHER Bush in office, I worked at a delightful Oakland establishment, Colonel Mustard's, which specialized in Chicago-style hot dogs. I went through intensive hot dog boot camp (keep your minds out of the gutters!) where I had to learn the essentials to craft a Chicago-style hot dog. We used Viennia Beef hot dogs and allowed the customer to choose a small one (Captain), big one (Colonel), or a Polish (really big). The processed meat was placed lovingly in a steamed bun, then slathered with the customer's choice of mild or hot mustard, then relish, sliced tomatoes, pickle spears, celery salt (VERY IMPORTANT), and, if the customer so chose, sport peppers. These are little pickled peppers which strike some wimpy humans as too hot, but not the superior beings who roam the planet (like you and me).

Of course, it was during this time that I discovered that I don't have a lot of aptitude for customer service. I find most of them inane. Some people would stare and stare and stare at the menu board for freaking hours where it clearly stated that we had Captains, Colonels, or Polish dogs. Then they would turn to me and say, "I want a hot dog." And I would have to ASK them what kind. It was painful. But I was still polite. Don't get me started on the state of customer service today.

Okay rant off.

Anyway, I had to enjoy a hot dog in the capital of the hot dog world so we entered a crowded joint called, appropriately enough, The Weiner Circle. You know, I JUST figured out that that's a play on the phrase "Winner's Circle." That's mildly amusing. Anyway, I ordered my hot dog, and they, as all us hot dog workers since the dawn of time, asked "Do you want sport peppers on that?" And I, being a good American and not a communist loser, said "YES!!!"

I was 3/4 of the way through my dog when I realized that there were no sport peppers. I felt betrayed by the workers, the hot dog, and the entire city of Chicago, but most of all, by myself, because I had not noticed that the sport peppers were missing from the experience. I am hanging my head in shame right now.

But I'll go and have a Colonel to cheer myself up.

Condiment Grrl

Baby Balsamic and I enjoy some quality mother/daughter dipping time.

A thing of beauty, even without the sport peppers

I'm back...and I came over all peckish

Excuses, excuses. I was sick. I was overworked. I was forced to visit friends and family in California, drink too much wine every night, then plop Baby Balsamic in front of vintage "Pink Panther" cartoons while Mommy slept "just a little longer."

And this will be short, because I have to get to sleep, but here's some previews of coming attractions:

-- Condiment SMACKDOWN - Branston Pickle vs. Branston Piccalilli! Two condiments walk in, one walks out on my hot dog....

-- Emergency Condiments - how to make a taste treat out of little plastic packets.

-- What the hell is wrong with a store that stops selling a mustard that I want to buy that they used to carry?

But first, in praise of French's mustard. I was in the airport and I hungered, I hungered deeply and powerfully (or as they say in a Monty Python sketch, "I came over all peckish"). I went to one of those hideous little food places they have in the airport where they charge you crazy amounts of money for little pieces of food. I got an everything bagel and asked for red onions. No red onions. I need a little savory flavor with my bagel so I hunted for salt and vinegar chips, then I had to just buy the damn bagel the way it was because Baby Balsamic was about to try and board a flight to New York. I looked at my limp bagel with it's pallid cream cheese. A tear struggled out of my eye and danced down my cheek, so I went to get napkin and noticed the condiment bins. Salt, pepper, ketchup, mayonnaise, relish, and mustard! I was drawn to the yellow. I put two packets on my bagel and my GOD, it was refreshing! Better than coffee. The mustard gave my tongue a little sizzle and the oh-so-delightful bitterness made up for Baby Balsamic wetting the seat on the plane.

Condiment Grrl