She said she didn't like mustard. Not only that, but she really wasn't fond of any condiments. No mustard, no relish, no sriracha or any other hot sauce. Maybe if it were only hot sauces, maybe that I could understand. But even mayonnaise. She wasn't even all that fond of butter.
I have a jar of garlic champagne mustard. Four ounces for nearly nine dollars. I dip my finger in it from time to time, I don't even want to sully it with a pretzel stick. There's a tartness, a sweetness, a elevating principal that made me feel I was somebody. And when dabbed on a thick chunk of brown sugar glazed ham, I couldn't think of anything better.
Maybe I was looking for reasons. Ways out. But if you don't like hot sauce, if you're not one for butter, if even the finest mustards in the world just don't do it for you, well, I'm not so sure you're going to do it for me.
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