Join me, on the Dark Side

Just before departing Santa Barbara, Sarah took me to the Awesomest Sandwich Shop of All Time, Panino, so that I could retrieve a delicious morsel to have for dinner on the train, hence preventing the need to eat train food (ick!). Upon arrival at Panino, Sarah was able to recommend several vegetarian options that she, having been vegetarian since I've known her - and hence far longer than I have, has tried. so I took her recommendation, and placed an order for my sandwich - with NO HONEY MUSTARD.

Now everyone knows that I have a passionate distaste for most condiments, which I inherited from my mother. No condiments were allowed anywhere near her on the kitchen table, and all of her children inherited this hatred for condiments in varying degrees -- most of us will dip our carrot sticks in ranch dressing (she will not); Will and Lacey gladly douse their french fries in ketchup (she will not -- nor will I); Travis, Lacey, and I will dress our salads with vinaigrette (she will not). The list goes on and on, but as a result of having been raised in this condiment-hating family, I have never tasted ketchup (the smell turns me gray and makes me want to vomit), and I was in college before I ever tasted a salad dressing (I may even have already graduated college before tasting a salad dressing).

Andrea's husband Bill takes issue with my mother's statement that she "hates all condiments," because he's a rat bastard and likes to play semantic games (I love you Bill, really, I do - but you know it's true!). One of few bottled, semi-liquids that my mother will consume is barbecue sauce. HOWEVER, she does not use it as a condiment -- she will slather it on meat to be grilled on a BBQ, but she will never, ever, dip something (such as a french fry or a chicken nugget) into the BBQ sauce. Bill says that it is nonsense (his words were far more "choice") that she make a blanket testimony to hating all condiments, when clearly there are condiments that she will consume. My mother at first argued that BBQ sauce is not a condiment, but a sauce -- but there's fallacy in this logic. If sauces are okay, then hollandaise would be acceptable, and as a mayonnaise cousin it is decidedly NOT acceptable. Bill clearly missed the point: the definition of a condiment is "any semi-liquid that my mother will not eat." Because she's the mommy, that's why.

For the majority of my life i have adhered to my mother's anti-condiment policy, and it's worked out very well, though I have in my lifetime been mocked for ordering sandwiches plain and dry (even lettuce and tomato are considered condiments when placed on a sandwich). I have had virtually no desire to breach the Code of Condimentary Conduct.

My first sunday at the cottage, I hosted a "BYO meat" BBQ in (belated) celebration of my birthday, with family and a few close friends. In addition to BYOM it was also BYO condiments, since the only circumstance under which I will purchase a condiment is the virtually untouched jar of Dijon in my fridge, used (with my nose plugged) for adding to my homemade vinaigrette dressings, and nothing more. Someone at the BBQ left a jar of yellow mustard behind, which spent the rest of the week sitting in the cottage fridge. I was completely appalled, though I kept it in the fridge in case someone showed up who might want some.

But, at some point during the week I recalled my experience with the Panino honey mustard, which was probably a life-altering experience [mother, you should really read no further, at risk of vomiting all over your laptop].

I spent most of college both enamored with and disgusted by mustard. I always thought it was so beautiful, but it smelled rancid and was not something I would ever imagine putting near my mouth -- it sounded like the quickest way to ruin a perfectly good sandwich, or worse yet, pretzel. Yuck! But, brown mustard in particular, was so beautiful! So as I ordered my Panino sandwich WITH NO MUSTARD, Sarah quickly revised my request to "mustard on the side," because, she said, Panino's honey mustard is the BEST MUSTARD YOU WILL EVER TASTE. more like "honey, with a tiny bit of mustard in it." Having had salad dressings which were honey + mustard + vinegar + olive oil, I thought that I might be able to get behind this honey mustard thing. And OH EM GHEE did it ever change my life. That sandwich made my train ride, and made up for all the horrible people I had to put up with. And the honey mustard MADE the sandwich. The sweet - the spicy - the tangy. It was like heaven in a tiny little plastic container.

So mid-week I heated myself one of the many leftover veggie hot dogs, and, recalling my Panino experience, decided to try the yellow mustard on the hot dog -- since everyone puts mustard on hot dogs. So I painted a thin bead of yellow mustard down the center of the hot dog, as I'd seen done so many times at ball games and barbecues in my lifetime. And as I did, I thought to myself, "My mother would be so ashamed."



And, after stopping only briefly to take a picture of my shame, I ate it. And though it didn't hold a candle to Panino's culinary masterpiece, I have officially begun my descent into the mustard-eating Dark Side. My life is forever changed by the honey mustard.