No, I didn't go to some magical region in France and recieve some enlightening tutelage. But I did make a sandwich, and I did learn a lesson.
Yesterday, while grocery shopping between the Great Plunging Disaster of '09 - as it henceforth shall be known - and dinner, I decided to buy some Dijon mustard. Now, I mean REAL Dijon mustard, as in, it comes in a jar; as in, it doesn't have that little red French's flag anywhere on the label. I have a thing for mustard; I don't eat it often, but when I do, I prefer mustard the way it was meant to be. Not some watery solution with mustard powder and Yellow Dye No. 16. It comes from my grandparents who still do everything Old World European-style, so I like mustard that comes from a jar.
So as I mentioned, I made a sandwich, today for lunch, a turkey sandwich, and I decided to give this new Dijon mustard a crack. I took two slices of soft, fresh country grain bread, a couple slices of turkey meat, and, since I don't like a dry sandwich, and since I so much enjoy real "Old World" mustard, I applied some Dijon to the bread liberally. I took a bite. I chewed and tasted. It was delicious. Then fire came up my throat and out my nose.
I coughed.
I choked.
I sputtered like a dying automobile.
I breathed out through my mouth and reached for my glass of water.
I gulped furiously.
"WOW." I whispered hoarsely, for lack of ability to make any other noise.
That was great!
I took another bite. And with each successive bite, I threw flames across the room like that little dragon from the late '90's Playstation game Spyro. Each bite was an adventure in itself. It much reminded me of a similar experience I had with a frankfurter with mustard while having lunch with my brother on the front steps of the British Museum long ago. But as much fun as it was, chewing with my mouth open to allow the gases from the sulphites to escape via a path less painful than my nasal passage was less than enjoyable. And the one time I kept my mouth closed and swallowed immediately had more dangerous results, leaving my chest with a searing pain for a minute or two.
Lesson learned: beware of how much Dijon you use. Be frugal with it; a little goes a long way.
Though I'm sure every now and then a Dijon-flame experience can be fun too. ;)
Ciao,
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