First, a confession. I blackmailed a student last semester. She was going to Paris for spring break; she came to see me for suggestions of places to go and things to see. I helped her out with some ideas; I was so excited for her to be able to put her French in action. Then the other shoe dropped. She told me she wouldn’t be returning until the Wednesday after spring break was over (on the third day after school was to begin again). She was going to miss a quiz. She told me she was prepared to do anything to make up for it and besides, she suggested, wasn’t being in Paris better than being in class? Of course I agreed that being in Paris was better than being in class; duh. I also told her that I’d excuse the absence and let her make up the quiz if she’d bring me a jar of Amora mustard, which she did (and some cornichons).

The word mustard in English comes from the Latin, mustum ardens, through French, mo?t ardent, which means burning must. This is because this condiment was made from the freshly pressed grape juice that would be made into wine, called must, and spicy crushed mustard seed. Mustard has been a part of Mediterranean culture for more than 3000 years and found in China up to 3000 years before Christ, but the spicy, smooth version from Burgundy is the most famous. Burgundy is known as the c?te d’or, the gold coast, because of its vineyards, but there are plenty of gorgeous fields of golden mustard to contribute to this name as well.

The mustard in France is part of what makes the food so good and the same brands here in the U.S. just don’t have the same taste. David Lebovitz is right in including Zip-Loc bags as one of his Five Favorite Travel Items. How else would I drag back all those jars of mustard and pickles (and tubes of G?nie laundry soap)? Amora is the brand of mustard I like best, but Maille is also good, and their cornichons are better. But in fact, these two companies merged quite some time ago and were purchased by the British conglomerate, Unilever, which also owns Colman’s mustard. Amora used to be available in the U.S., but it appears that the Maille brand seems more upscale to Americans, so they’ve discontinued selling Amora and are concentrating on marketing Maille. This doesn’t really make a difference, because neither one of the preparations in the U.S. tastes the same as in France. I checked the labels once and saw that they use something different here as a preservative, but I think that most Americans just don’t want their mustard that spicy.

The only problem with bringing mustard back from France is that it doesn’t have a very long shelf life. The mustard doesn’t go bad or anything, but the spiciness goes away after a couple of months. I’ve been reading recipes and trying to figure out how to make a spicy smooth mustard like Amora myself and not really having much success. Then, a couple of days ago, I went through some of the things in the refrigerator of the apartment we’re renting for the summer and found a jar of Dijon mustard. I’ve bought probably 20 different brands of Dijon mustard in the U.S. and have never had any luck finding that elusive taste, so I wasn’t very hopeful. Surprise, Trader Joe’s Dijon mustard is the one I’ve been looking for, hoping for, searching for (I like it so much I don’t care about the dangling prepositions). It’s made in France and has no preservatives. Thank you Jeremy for buying this and for leaving it in the door of your refrigerator. I’ll probably finish it before you come back from your archeological dig in Bolivia, but I’ll buy you another jar, I promise.

In France, mustard is on the table in the caf?s and bistros much like ketchup is in the United States. This condiment has even inspired several expressions and proverbs in French. La moutarde lui monte au nez (The mustard is going to his nose) is said of a person who is impatient. S’amuser ? la moutarde (to have fun with mustard) means to spend one’s time frivolously. De la moutarde apr?s d?ner has its equivalent in English: after meat, mustard, meaning something that arrives too late, when one doesn’t need it anymore. Une salade sans moutarde est une jolie femme sans esprit (A salad without mustard is like a pretty woman without wit) is one of my favorites, but the one I find the most true is, la moutarde est comme les affaires: on en brasse beaucoup, mais on en fait peu de bonnes (mustard is like business transactions, a lot of them are concocted, but few are good). So, now that I’ve finally found my good mustard, widely available in the U.S., I’ll be using it for quite a few French preparations.

It’s a key ingredient in vinaigrette for flavor and to help the oil and vinegar emulsify. It’s also used in other sauces, like mayonnaise and mustard cream sauce used for chicken or pork chops. You can use it as part of a paste for a prime rib or roast pork; it helps the salt, pepper, herbs and garlic stick to a large piece of meat and contributes to the formation of a brown flavorful crust. You can use it on chicken along with some rosemary and garlic before it goes on the grill. You can also do as the French and use it as a condiment for cold roasts or cold chicken or with a steak. This is a perplexing habit to most Americans, but if you have had mustard like this, the kind that goes up your nose like wasabi or horseradish, you’ll understand its appeal. If your mustard doesn’t have that kick, go to Trader Joe’s and buy some or get someone to send you some. It will make all the difference. The recipe here is for a simple first course dish that is a part of everyday French cooking, especially in the summer and it’s really easy to fit in more servings of vegetables if you start your meal with something like this. Like for the green bean salad I recently made, I prefer a little more mustard than you would normally find in a vinaigrette. If you don’t like carrots, you could drizzle it on steamed chilled asparagus or leeks, sliced tomatoes or cucumbers or a number of other vegetables, but I’d use the smaller amount of mustard. I don’t think my student minded me blackmailing her so much; she handed over the jar of Amora with a smile. She’s going back to Paris this summer and she’s decided to major in French. Could it be the mustard?

Shredded carrot salad with vinaigrette

• 4-5 medium carrots, peeled and shredded with a grater or using a food processor
• 1-2 T Trader Joe’s Dijon mustard, cold from the refrigerator
• 2 T red wine vinegar
• 1 shallot, minced
• 4 T vegetable oil, olive oil or nut oil such as walnut or hazelnut
• Salt and pepper to taste
• Garnish: black olives or parsley

In a small bowl, whisk together mustard, vinegar and shallot, add a pinch of salt and a little pepper. Whisk in oil little by little until the vinaigrette has emulsified. Place carrots in serving bowl, add vinaigrette and toss to coat. Garnish with black olives or a bit of chopped parsley.