MUSTARD TRAIL:ONCE UPON A time, it was possible to leave Dublin early on a weekday morning, fly to Paris in time for lunch in a bustling brasserie, work off the calories with a tour of some of the city's artisan food shops, glide through the halls of La Grande Épicerie, fill an expandable shopping basket or two with gourmet treats, relax over a reviving café au lait, and head back to the airport with your spoils, stowing bottles of wine, olive oil, vinegar and mustard, sacks of fleur de sel, bricks of Poilâne bread, and well-wrapped parcels of runny cheese in the overhead locker, writes Marie-Claire Digby
I know, I used to make the day-trip occasionally, thanks to the advent of cheap flights and the complete absence of security queues and baggage restrictions. I wouldn't do it now. Apart from the fact that air travel has become far more daunting and time-consuming, there was, too, a memorable incident involving a miserably wet day, a mad dash across the central reservation at Porte Maillot in pursuit of an about-to-depart airport bus, and the disintegration of several overstuffed and damp paper shopping bags.
But it was fun while it lasted, and on each of those trips there was one shop that always appeared on my itinerary - the Maille boutique at 6, Place de la Madeleine. "She's cracked, she goes to Paris to buy mustard," my friends used to say. But what mustard!
The small, antiquated shop was always packed, with chic Parisians having their stone mustard jars refilled with "fresh" mustard straight from the beer pump-style dispensers, and the inevitable bewildered Japanese and noisy US tourists, making their selection from an array of more than 30 varieties, before their purchases were lovingly wrapped and beribboned like jewels.
It was always hard to choose what to buy, because in addition to the regular varieties, and unusual mustards such as preserved oranges and ginger; hazelnut and nutmeg; cassis, chestnut and red berry, there were also seasonal specials. It's a tradition that continues, with this year's spring/summer collection of Parmesan and basil; pesto and rocket; goat's cheese and sundried tomatoes; and aniseed and saffron, giving way on the shelves to the current autumn/winter collection of chestnut and morilles; celeriac and truffle; gingerbread and honey, and caramel and praline. And yes, they're all mustards.
How ever do they come up with such exotic combinations? And what exactly makes "fresh" mustard, served from the pump, so different from the ordinary variety? I found out on a visit to Dijon, home of mustard, as well as cassis liqueur and a tough, chewy, and inexplicably popular variety of gingerbread called pain d'epices.
Maille, one of the longest-established French brand names, has been synonymous with mustard- and vinegar-making for more than 260 years. The company was established in Marseille in the 1700s by Antoine Maille, who invented "The Vinegar of the Four Thieves", the antiseptic qualities of which were thought to prevent the spread of plague. The name came from the popularity of the product among thieves, who reputedly washed their hands in it before removing valuables from the corpses of plague victims.
Maille junior continued the family trade, opening a vinegar and mustard shop in Paris in 1747, selling 50 mustards, including varieties such as lemon, mixed herbs and tarragon that are still sold today, and more than 200 blends of vinegar used for such diverse purposes as teeth whitening, wrinkle busting and face painting.
The business stayed in the Maille family until 1923, when the last remaining family member sold it to Philippe de Rothschild, after which it became part of the Danone portfolio, and subsequently came under the umbrella of the giant Unilever multinational.
The exotic flavour combinations are dreamed up at Unilever's premises in Dijon, where the company does research and development for Maille as well as other brands in its portfolio including Hellmann's and Calve. The mustard is also made in the locality, with seeds imported, in the main, from Canada. Fresh mustard; it turns out, is made with wine rather than vinegar, and has a shorter shelf life, but a more vibrant, complex flavour.
Chef Philippe Colombet has worked with Maille for 20 years, collaborating with food scientists on recipe development. He also gives demonstrations on the myriad uses of mustard to the company's visitors. At a recent lunch he produced a banquet of seven courses, each making use of the smooth, original Dijon mustard, crunchy old-style mustard, and the mayo/mustard mix, Dijonnaise.
Lentil salad had a creamy Dijonnaise dressing; asparagus and smoked salmon were served with a little of of the same for dunking; the pastry case for the broccoli quiche was spread with smooth mustard before baking; foie gras sat alongside roast prawn rails that had been painted with crunchy mustard; rack of lamb was served with shredded cabbage seasoned with a spoonful of smooth mustard, and baked aubergines and goat's cheese stacks were embellished with another layer of the yellow gold. So far, so predictable, but how could he get away with mustard for dessert? The answer came in a tangy, only slightly savoury, mustard-tinged butter cream filling which sandwiched together the baby macaroons. But of course!
Maille Original and Old-Style mustards and Dijonnaise are available nationwide. For the other varieties you'll have to visit the Maille boutiques in Paris and Dijon