An Edmond Fallot Mustard for Every Season


We carry lots of mustards. Many brands and styles, grainy, hot, smooth, sweet, and so on, but I am especially fond of the full line of Edmond Fallot mustards. There are two things I love about the Edmond Fallot mustards. First, while you can make Dijon mustard pretty much anywhere, Edmond Fallot makes an effort to re-establish the cultivation of mustard plants in Burgundy and also uses AOC Burgundian wines in their production. Second, they make a full collect-‘em-all line of flavors. Have you collected all the Fee’s Brothers’ Bitters? That’s cute. Now get on the Edmond Fallot mustards because I’m coming over later and I want a soft pretzel with my cocktail. For now I’ll take a cue from Vivaldi and start you with an Edmond Fallot flavored mustard for each season.

Provencal Mustard for Summer: Ah, Provence, where every season is summer (not true)! This mustard is blended with sweet red bell peppers. Try it in your deviled eggs, or in your egg salad if you find chewing to be a pesky middleman. Add it to the butter you slather on corn or the mayonnaise you slather on a crispy softshell crab. Of course, it’s also the natural condiment for a sardine sandwhich and there’s no denying its love for a good tomato.

Walnut Mustard for Fall: Truth be told, this is my favorite of Ed’s flavors. It’s a smooth mustard, but the ground walnut gives the illusion of seediness, and oh, how toasty it is! You can taste the buttery-crunchiness of the walnut. Spread this on a toasted ham sandwich with a melty Alpine style cheese or whisk it into your fondue. Mix it with clarified butter to make crostini for sopping up split pea soup, or whisk it into some crème faiche (or even Delice de Bourgogne) to finish a sauce for Swedish meatballs or Beef Stroganoff.

Pan d’Epices Mustard for Winter: This is the gingerbread spice and honey grain mustard. I know, it sounds like a Christmas stocking afterthought gleaned from a deconstructed and re-gifted second-rate gift basket, but alas, there is nothing gimmicky about it. The heat of the mustard is toned down — but not too sweetened — by the honey and the gingerbread spices (that’s clove, cinnamon, nutmeg, all that stuff) warms it back up just enough. Although it’s a French product, it reminds me of how seriously the Germans take mustard, gingerbread, and Christmas. It loves cured meats, especially the musty and smoky ones, so get some speck and a loaf of dark bread. And, for an honorable mention, if you find yourself making leftover turkey sandwiches this season, pick up some cassis mustard. This is blended with black currant, essentially an Old World cranberry. You can spread the mustard and the cranberry sauce all with the same knife.

Tarragon Mustard for Spring: The color of this alone, so bright green, harkens in spring, but the grassy and barely-licoricey edge of the tarragon with have you packing picnics and shooting Chartreuse in no time. Again, great on a ham sandwich, but this time with some and radish and cucumber slices. Blanch some ramps and throw them in the blender with some of this mustard and pour the mixture over your spring salmon or shad. Use it to bind a vinaigrette or marinade for the brief season of grilled asparagus, and let us not forget to use the tarragon mustard to usher in potato salad season.