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Summary

A traveler recounts their transformative experience of tasting an authentic frankfurter with high-quality Dusseldorf mustard at the Frankfurt train station, profoundly altering their view of American hot dogs and condiments.

Abstract

In the narrative, the author passionately describes the remarkable discovery of what they consider to be the quintessential hot dog encountered in the Frankfurt train station, Germany. This humble yet unforgettable meal, consisting of a wiener, roll, and exquisite mustard, elevates their expectations of these simple foods. The experience, compared to the American counterparts, is described as vastly superior, especially highlighting the stark contrast between European and American mustard. The author confesses to becoming a mustard connoisseur as a result, favoring Grey Poupon mustard over the typical yellow mustard found in the U.S., and even incorporates it into various recipes. The revelation leads to a lifelong preference for authentic European mustard and a disdain for the American version, influencing the author's culinary habits and becoming a defining aspect of their gastronomic identity.

Opinions

  • American hot dogs and mustard are vastly inferior to their European counterparts, particularly the mustard.
  • The mustard tasted at the Frankfurt train station was exceptionally superior, described as a life-changing experience.
  • Grey Poupon mustard, though not identical, is considered the closest match to the European mustard available in America and is highly favored by the author.
  • The author expresses a strong preference for authentic Dusseldorfer mustard and encourages Americans to experience it to appreciate the difference.
  • The typical American yellow mustard is likened to a completely different food, implying it doesn't compare to real mustard.
  • The author's culinary practices have been significantly influenced by this encounter, leading to a habit of using Grey Poupon in various recipes, including chicken, roast, and potato salad.
  • There is a suggestion that American culinary culture could benefit from exposure to European condiments, potentially leading to a shift in consumer preferences.
Source: Pixabay

Does Your Wiener Cut the Mustard?

Memories of a train station in Europe

The very best hot dog I’ve ever had in my life I ate at the Frankfurt train station in Germany. I don’t think I can actually call it a hot dog, though. A frankfurter maybe? I was just a teenager at the time and I loved trying new foods. My family and I were waiting for a train and my grandfather, who had met us there to take us south to his home, pointed out a food vendor with a small cart set up on the sidewalk. “You Americans think you know what a hot dog is. You want to find out what a real hot dog is like?” he asked. I’m paraphrasing, of course, because he said it in German and I don’t speak German so I’m just guessing he said something like that. It was nothing like the hot dogs one buys at the ballpark on a summer afternoon in America. On a small paper plate, the vendor served a wiener, a roll and a giant dab of mustard. My grandfather showed me how to eat it. He picked up the wiener with his hand, dipped it in mustard then took a bite. He then quickly dipped the roll into the mustard and took a bite of that. I copied my grandfather. The wiener tasted better than any wiener I’ve ever had in America. And the roll was outstanding; a hundred times better than those flavorless, nutrient-free white bread hot dog buns sold in America. And the mustard… Oh, the mustard! I thought I had died and gone to heaven. It was the very best mustard I’ve ever eaten in my life. My life immediately changed right there in that train station. When I got back to America I never again ate that yellow stuff that Americans mistakenly call mustard. American mustard doesn’t resemble real mustard in any way at all. It’s like a completely different food. I think every American should take a trip to Europe just for the purpose of finding out what real mustard tastes like. They, too, would never eat that American yellow stuff again. It’s like night and day. The quality of American mustard is so profoundly inferior that the French’s company would go out of business if every American teenager would spend a summer in Europe. I have never found a mustard in America that is as good as that mustard in the train station so long ago. It was some kind of Dusseldorfer mustard but I have never found anything like it in America. So I settle for Grey Poupon, which isn’t quite as good as that train station mustard but almost. Actually, I must be honest and admit that I’m a Grey Poupon junkie. I go into withdrawal should I ever run out of it and that’s why I always stock up on it. I cook with it all the time. Some day I’ll have to share my Grey Poupon chicken recipe. Or my secret recipe Grey Poupon roast.

And then there is my Grey Poupon potato salad! Nowadays I hardly ever eat hot dogs but when I do I put Grey Poupon on it. Grey Poupon, onions and maybe some thinly sliced cucumbers; that’s the perfect way to dress a hot dog. Try finding that at an American ball park! Or anywhere in America! You can’t! You’ve got to sneak in your own Grey Poupon into the ball park. Maybe that’s why I haven’t been to a ball game in a couple of decades…

There, now everyone knows that I am a mustard snob — and how I became one.

Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. Writings of White Feather

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