Horseshoes? Volleyball? It would seriously behoove all those involved to NOT LET ME PLAY.
Oh, well. At least there's going to be food (outstanding fork-to-mouth aptitude: check!). And I, stepping up in an unprecedented show of generosity and responsibility, have accepted the task of supplying the mustard.
Just mustard? you scoff. Where's the responsibility in that? you sneer. Clearly, you haven't given enough thought to the importance of this noble and irreplacable condiment. Let me enlighten you.
A longass time ago, the Romans mixed up a batch of unfermented grape juice (known as "must") with ground mustard seeds. This mixture was called "burning must", or mustum ardens. Hence, the word mustard. This sassy concotion has been tweaked, added to, deconstructed and reconstituted with so many variable ingredients, there are now thousands of mustards out there, from the ubiquitous yellow table mustard we associate with hot dogs, to the fancypants black olive mustard and Maui onion mustard. I mean, I have a lot of decision-making to do. And then I have to consider pairings, so I have to schedule a consult with the chef and the
Someone has to think about these things. That someone is me.
This just in: Kroger has announced a sale on its Private Selection yellow mustard. 4 for $5.
We have a winner.
P.S. I like to offer a lyric or imagined soundtrack to my posts. If only I knew a band who had a Mustardy album.