You see that this mustard from Löwensenf clearly says “EXTRA HOT”, right? I don’t know what happened to this mustard, but it certain was not extra hot. It wasn’t even hot. Which may or may not be the mustard’s fault.
I bought this mustard expecting that nose-tingling, head-shattering, addictive pain/pleasure from a truly spicy mustard, like the XXX mustard from Kozlik’s in St-Laurence Market in Toronto. Instead, this one from an excellent sausage shop in Montreal’s Jean-Talon market (not made in house, but imported from Germany) was even less spicy than Maille Dijon, which could maybe be called a nose tingler on a day when you jump into a pool of feathers.
So when I tasted this Löwensenf Extra Hot and found it extra mild, I was disappointed. Maybe German people don’t like spicy mustard, I thought for a split second, and then realized that was dumb. Then I noticed the best before date, which had passed. Of course! The mustard seeds lost their potency!
Except…I got a replacement, at-its-best jar from the very nice sausage shop in Jean-Talon Market and it, too, was mild at best. So now I use this mustard as an emulsifier and a salting agent but nothing more. It’ can add a little salt’s fine in vinaigrettes and for coating and marinating meat, but there’s no spice or flavour there.
That’s why when I dug up about 10 lbs of horseradish from my newly inherited community garden plot, the first thing I did was grate a good 1/4 cup into some of this mustard, to give the impression of spice.
And it was perfect. Mildly sweet, with a kick that went straight to the middle of my forehead. The more I chewed, the more intense it became. And then 15 minutes after grating it, the horseradish I hadn’t added to the mustard was suddenly mild. The sting was gone, just like the mustard had been. With such a short period of piquancy, spicy mustard now seems like a mini-miracle. I’m not talking the type that’s sharp from vinegar or burns from chile peppers. Just the bliss of a biting root that refuses to leave my garden alone. Fortunately, I’ll have plenty to grate into the rest of this jar of mild German mustard, to mask my disappointment in horseradish, like most sushi restaurants.
I feel as though there should be a moral to this blog post. Something like “Appreciate the spice while it lasts.” But really it’s just a shout-out to great mustard makers like Kozlik’s, because you are masters of your craft.
Leave a Reply