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Tuesday 20 March 2012

And so to the first challenge: English Mustard


English mustard: the Devil’s fiery load. Scoop it. Dollop it. Pile that peppery goodness high. This yellow peril makes meat come alive and is, surely, the king of all condiments. Show it respect or it will leave your eyes gushing and your nostrils gaping.

The ingredients are simple really - mustard powder, salt, water, perhaps a dash of lemon – but oh, how they vary. I have trawled the streets of London and found ten, ready available, versions. My quest was by no means exhaustive – I had a cold – but I did manage to make it to Sainsbury’s, Tesco, Marks & Spencer’s and Waitrose. These aren’t bespoke deli-squelch-pickle-style mustards that cost five quid a jar down Borough Market, these are mustards we can all find and can all afford.

And this is no amateurish lone-man, finger in the wind, comparison. I have toiled for my results. Once the mustards were bought I invested in some rather fetching white pots to put them in, all in the name of anonymity. 



The next step was to tempt over some willing volunteers. Waving the prospect of roast beef at them until they relented, I amassed The Condimentalists, a cultivated band of condiment connoisseurs. Their tongues are one-ended flavour finders: their taste buds have been chiselled, their palates primed.

And so to the results - let the mustard tears flow.


In 10th place:





Powdery, watery, hot, yet rank. This do it yourself mustard powder failed on all counts with its combination of fiery unpleasantness and diluted insipidness. It tasted like a spicy puddle.

Although I am certain that I followed the on-the-packet instructions to the word, there is every chance that the failure for this to live up to Colman’s grand reputation was all my own.


In 9th place:




How to corrupt a perfectly good English Mustard? Two words: salad cream. Although this had a creamy texture it was far too impotent ever to be considered a true English Mustard. It contained vinegar too. Boo.


In 8th place:

Tesco English Mustard (190g) – 48p



Too much acid and too much heat. Not enough roundness to the flavour. Again, there was vinegar involved. Get thee to the back of the cupboard and gather some dust.


In 7th place:




Tasted chemically, not hot enough. Rather average, very cheap though. If you have a thing for shit mustard you could get three jars for a pound.


In 6th place:

Colman’s English Mustard (170g) - £1.54 (from Tesco)



A turn up for the books perhaps? Colman’s, that most iconic of mustards, only scrapes into 6th place. Although it had a good level of heat, the general consensus was that that was about all. Lacking in flavour.


In 5th place:

Waitrose English Mustard (180g) – 55p



Getting better, but this was too sharp with not enough tang, even a little bitter. It did have an excellent texture though.


In 4th place:




Smooth, not too abrasive, nice flavour. A little watery, and dare I say it, a hint of the salad cream.


In 3rd place:




Flavoursome, with a great kick. Deep yellow, screaming “Kiss me, I’ll make you cry.” A fine English Mustard. 


In 2nd place:

Tracklements Strong English Mustard (140g) - £2.09 (Waitrose)



Intense, but fleeting, nose fire. Great texture and full of flavour. The Tracklements also contained vinegar, which technically disqualifies it from consideration as an English Mustard. Luckily I’m not being technical, but the flavour was a little too vinegary for it to take the top spot. 


And in 1st place:

Inferno Old English Mustard (200g) – £1.59 (Waitrose)



The clear favourite with all of the Condimentalists. A rich balance between heat, flavour and tang. Deep tones, soft bouquet, good dolloping. This did things to our tongues that had never been done before. A jar of firecracker fallatio. 

Inferno Old English Mustard - Winner of the first Condimental English Mustard comparison. 

Monday 19 March 2012

Welcome to Condimental


Welcome to Condimental, the blog that favours flavour. 


Here I, Colonel Mustard, will deconstruct those fiery perplexities that skulk away at the side of the plate. I will trawl the planet for zest and tang, fire and twang, proclaiming in my wake the greatest sauces and seasonings the world has ever seen.


I’m here to celebrate those trifling mounds of mustard-yellow or ketchup-red that we squirt uncouth over our food every day. They may look harmless, but they hold secrets to unsurpassable taste experiences. They rouse our food, make it come alive, stuff firecrackers under tepid titbits, and take our taste buds to delirium.




Condiments are the building blocks of food, the flavour enhancers that can turn a pan-frazzled steak into a plate of culinary majesty. They let us, the diners, take back control of our food. With my Condimental Reviews and Comparisons you can claim back your plate and make sure you never again squander a well-cooked burger on a reckless relish.