One thing I’ve learned over the years is that mustard makes an excellent marinade. Not everyone agrees with this. But, even for the detractors, if you sneak it in and baste your meat with that special yellow sauce without them seeing you, the results shine.
“What did you think of the meat, Stella?
“It was delectable. What did you put on it?”
“Ha, a chef never tells.” Indeed.
The first time I had a steak slathered in straight yellow mustard was 25 years ago when we lived in the Washington, D.C. metro area. Our neighbors had us over for a barbecue. The husband was from a northern European country and he had his own ideas about barbecuing steaks, which included spreading yellow mustard over the meat.
“Yuck,” I thought. But willing to gave it a try, when I took a bite, the taste was delicious. Somehow the mustard taste did not even slightly overwhelm the taste of the meat, instead enhancing it, like a good red wine. From that point, I was sold on the mustard marinade merits.
We don’t eat steak often. But when we do, it gets the yellow basting, along with other special spices I’ve learned about over the years. I brush it on, covering the entire ribeye, including the sides. Let it sit for 10-30 minutes so it seeps into the meat.
Over the years, I’ve alternated what type of mustard to use and this keeps the taste of the meat hopping. The old standby is your basic yellow mustard you put on ballpark franks. Squirt it on, spread it around.
Recently, after emptying the container, I chose to go a different route. At work, someone won several containers of a local mustard, kind of a spicy mustard. “Hmmm, better give this a try.” It too was a success, garnering praise.
In Wisconsin, though I’m not sure where this place is because I don’t remember where I read about it, there is a “Mustard Store.” That’s right. All they sell is mustard.
There’s mustard from Sweden, Germany, Austria and Brazil. Specially spiced mustard from Belgium, South Africa and Australia.
And, of course, multiple versions from all over Wisconsin, celebrating it’s German and Polish roots. Some are spicy. Some contain wild mixtures of other ingredients. Who the heck knows what goes into them, but I WANT TO VISIT THAT STORE and bring home samples.
I don’t know when I’ll get there because first I have to figure out where it is. Google will help me. Then I need to get motivated and take a trip there, which will probably require some other reason to visit the community and check out the local sights and wares.
Some day this will happen. Until then, I have two mustard varieties in the frig to finish off. They serve us well.
Recently, a sweet honey mustard has risen to the top of my marinade list. No one knows but me. I drizzle it on, grill the steak, and the positive comments come in.
“This is so good. What did you do different this time?”
It’s mustard, folks. But you don’t need to let on that you keep experimenting, trying something new, looking to perfect your marinade for that marvelous grilling mix.
“What did you think of the meat, Stella?
“It was delectable. What did you put on it?”
“Ha, a chef never tells.” Indeed.
The first time I had a steak slathered in straight yellow mustard was 25 years ago when we lived in the Washington, D.C. metro area. Our neighbors had us over for a barbecue. The husband was from a northern European country and he had his own ideas about barbecuing steaks, which included spreading yellow mustard over the meat.
“Yuck,” I thought. But willing to gave it a try, when I took a bite, the taste was delicious. Somehow the mustard taste did not even slightly overwhelm the taste of the meat, instead enhancing it, like a good red wine. From that point, I was sold on the mustard marinade merits.
We don’t eat steak often. But when we do, it gets the yellow basting, along with other special spices I’ve learned about over the years. I brush it on, covering the entire ribeye, including the sides. Let it sit for 10-30 minutes so it seeps into the meat.
Over the years, I’ve alternated what type of mustard to use and this keeps the taste of the meat hopping. The old standby is your basic yellow mustard you put on ballpark franks. Squirt it on, spread it around.
Recently, after emptying the container, I chose to go a different route. At work, someone won several containers of a local mustard, kind of a spicy mustard. “Hmmm, better give this a try.” It too was a success, garnering praise.
In Wisconsin, though I’m not sure where this place is because I don’t remember where I read about it, there is a “Mustard Store.” That’s right. All they sell is mustard.
There’s mustard from Sweden, Germany, Austria and Brazil. Specially spiced mustard from Belgium, South Africa and Australia.
And, of course, multiple versions from all over Wisconsin, celebrating it’s German and Polish roots. Some are spicy. Some contain wild mixtures of other ingredients. Who the heck knows what goes into them, but I WANT TO VISIT THAT STORE and bring home samples.
I don’t know when I’ll get there because first I have to figure out where it is. Google will help me. Then I need to get motivated and take a trip there, which will probably require some other reason to visit the community and check out the local sights and wares.
Some day this will happen. Until then, I have two mustard varieties in the frig to finish off. They serve us well.
Recently, a sweet honey mustard has risen to the top of my marinade list. No one knows but me. I drizzle it on, grill the steak, and the positive comments come in.
“This is so good. What did you do different this time?”
It’s mustard, folks. But you don’t need to let on that you keep experimenting, trying something new, looking to perfect your marinade for that marvelous grilling mix.