There is this mustard in the world that makes people crazy. People love it so much they lose themselves. I certainly did. We all go kind of crazy. I once split a whole jar with another person in a single sitting. A whole jar of mustard?? For lunch!? We were out of control. We did not regain control until we had re-entered the store to buy two more jars.
I’ve covered this issue in a rapturous piece that made no secret of where I stand. The mustard is transformative– milky, warm, a tangy sweetness that is in itself a tremendous departure from any kind of woebegone honey barbecue. I feel like it could go on a cake. It could work with any meat. It has a future with vegetables but also, possibly, fruits. It is deeply mysterious how good this mustard is.
Once you comment on the company’s website (I hasten to add I am in no way in their pay– though certainly available…ahem…) you are automatically emailed every time someone else writes a review of the mustard. This isn’t too often, but it’s often enough, and every single time it is an expression of sheer delight. The one I received the other day made me smile, capturing the halting sense of recognition, conceding the mustard’s greatness, the inability to NOT go online and rave:
“I’ve never written a review about anything in my life, and I can’t believe I’m writing my first one about…mustard! Both girls that were with me when I bought it turned up their noses and said they didn’t like mustard. But then they tried it, and now they too are Napa Valley Smoky Mustard fans! I brought the remainder of the jar back to Colorado for my boyfriend to try. A week later and we are ordering more!”