From the Vault: Mustard

Driving (in my case, riding) US 101 between Los Angeles and the Central Coast AVAs, one gets a sense of why one of California's nicknames is "America's salad bowl."  Los Angeles' urban core gives way to increasingly suburban outlands, before these in turn give way to vast expanses of crops growing right up to the shoulder of the road.  To the left, the steel-blue waters of the Pacific crash from infinity to a rocky coastline with sands as white as old bones. On the right, workers pull fresh lettuce from the soil, while road signs direct travelers east to the hamlet of Gaviota, population 94 and namesake of intensely sweet strawberries, or north to Santa Barbara wine country.

In wine country, California's most famous crop reigns, but growing wild in the uncultivated acres between vineyards is Calfornia's other famous crop: mustard.  Seas of these tiny ochre buds open to receive the golden sunlight that is bracketed by the cool, misty mornings and evenings that the grapes find agreeable.  Further north in Napa, mustard gets its own rightful celebration, but in the more rustic Central Coast area, this herb is celebrated, as are the grapes in whose shadow it literally grows, with palate.

Here are two posts I wrote about mustard for Slashfood.  Whether you like this herb in your dijonnaise or on your frankfurter, these two mustards are worth their heat.