By Marcia Pilgeram
Reader Columnist
I’m in Paris!
This is the long-awaited graduation trip for my granddaughter, Miley, and we’re traveling with our dear friend, Doug. Miley’s my baking protégé, a worthy travel partner and an enthusiastic culinary adventurer. After days of wandering through cafés and pâtisseries, sampling pain au chocolat, buttery croissants and hot chocolate crowned with clouds of Chantilly cream, we’ve found ourselves drifting toward the savory side of French cuisine.
At Grand Café Capucines, one of my favorite restaurants in the Opéra district, while Doug and I dined on oysters and steak tartare, Miley enjoyed tender braised beef and creamy mashed potatoes nestled beneath a classic beurre-moutarde — butter-mustard sauce. The sauce was sublime. As I continued sampling it by the spoonful (strictly for research purposes), I was reminded of my days as a private railcar chef, and how much I love the ritual of making French sauces and dressings, often brought to life by the mustards of France.
The next day, still thinking about that sauce, we made our way to the Maille mustard boutique in Paris’s Madeleine district. That’s right, folks — an entire shop dedicated to mustard.
In France, mustard isn’t simply something you squeeze onto a sandwich. It is an ingredient worthy of discussion; comparison; and, apparently, collection.
Walking into the boutique, I was struck by how seriously mustard is taken here. The experience reinforced something I’ve come to appreciate about French food culture, for the ingredients, the craftsmanship and certainly the tradition.
Rows of crock-like jars lined the shelves, their colors ranging from pale gold to deep brown. Some mustards were smooth and sharp, others textured with whole seeds. There were varieties infused with herbs, wine and unexpected spices.
My visit also introduced me to the fascinating history of Maille. The company traces its roots to 1747, when Antoine-Claude Maille founded the business in France. The family’s connection to vinegar-making began with his father, who developed the famous “Vinegar of the Four Thieves,” a concoction believed to help ward off the plague. It was said to be swallowed in water and rubbed on the temples and palms of the hands. Later, Maille opened La Maison Maille on Rue Saint-André-des-Arts in Paris and eventually became a supplier to the court of King Louis XV.
Of course, the history lesson was followed by a tasting.
A sample station offered dozens of varieties and, naturally, I sampled every single one. The experience challenged my very American tendency to think of mustard as just one thing. Once I settled on my favorite flavors — and, just as importantly, my jar colors — the mustard was drawn directly from barrels and packaged for travel. Best of all, when the jars are empty, I can bring them back to be refilled.
Standing there, tasting mustard drawn from barrels, I couldn’t help but marvel at how much history can be packed into something so seemingly ordinary.
What fascinated me most was how similar the experience felt to wine tasting. One mustard delivered a clean heat that quickly faded. Another lingered with earthy complexity. A third opened with bright acidity before settling into a gentle sweetness. Each possessed its own distinct personality.
My favorite was the Chardonnay with white truffles from Alba, Italy.
The tasting also made me think about the meals I’ve enjoyed throughout Paris. Whether it was a simple jambon-beurre sandwich, a carefully arranged charcuterie board or a lightly dressed salad, mustard appeared again and again. Rarely the star of the show, it nevertheless played a crucial supporting role, quietly shaping the final result.
Travel often encourages us to seek out grand landmarks and famous attractions. Yet some of the most meaningful discoveries are much smaller: a neighborhood bakery, a market stall, a favorite café — or even a jar of mustard.
Perhaps that is why mustard remains such an enduring part of the French table. It is versatile, dependable and capable of transforming simple ingredients into something memorable. After spending time in Paris, I find myself viewing it differently. What once seemed commonplace now feels like a small expression of the country’s culinary soul.
Today, the House of Maille produces 84 varieties of mustard and more than 120 vinegars. Those are enough options to keep even the most dedicated mustard enthusiast occupied for quite some time.
While I adore Dijon-style mustards flavored with wine, tangy vinegars and herbs, mine is a house divided. My son Zane and son-in-law Russ remain fiercely loyal to bright yellow French’s mustard — the familiar condiment found at hot dog stands across America. Not French mustard. French’s mustard.
I’m hoping that one taste of this silky butter-mustard sauce will begin their conversion. And I hope each of you will love the sauce as much as Miley and I did.
Bon appétit!
Butter mustard sauce
This classic French beurre-moutarde (butter-mustard sauce) is made with Maille Dijon mustard. It is excellent with fish, chicken, pork, asparagus or steamed vegetables.
Yield: Enough sauce for spooning over 2-4 plates.
INGREDIENTS:
• 4 tbs cold, unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
• 1 tbs finely chopped shallot
• 2 tbs Maille Dijon Mustard (do not use the whole-grain variety)
• 2 tbs heavy cream
• 1 tbs lemon juice
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
• 1 tsp finely chopped fresh tarragon or parsley
DIRECTIONS:
Melt 1 tbs of butter in a small saucepan. Add the shallot and cook until softened, about 2 minutes. Whisk in the Dijon mustard and lemon juice. Add the cream and simmer gently for 1 minute.
Remove from heat and whisk in the remaining cold butter, one piece at a time, until smooth and glossy. Season with salt, pepper and herbs. Ladle over meat or vegetables and serve immediately.
Variation: For a richer flavor, whisk ¼ cup white wine, beef or chicken stock into the shallots and reduce by half before adding the mustard and other ingredients.
Dining and Cooking