Cut To The Mustard
Dijon, the capital of France’s Burgundy wine region, has long been home to to dukes and ducal palaces (see: Palais des ducs et des États de Bourgogne), but it's been best known by name, worldover, because of this mustard. But why did it become so popular? The strong, somewhat spicy, nostril clearing condiment has been gracing king’s table since the Middle Ages, has been torn between two worlds: that of verjus, the sour juice of unripe grapes, a verdant acidic liquid rife in the vineyards, and vinegar, ostensibly, it’s older cousin.
“Modern day Dijon [mustard] has five simple ingredients: brown or black mustard seeds, an acidifying agent of some variety, salt, water, and 2% or less of the whole, brown outer shell of the mustard seed,” says Brandon Collins, Maille’s North American Mustard Sommelier/Brand Ambassador. Collins works for Unilever Food Solutions, who own and operate Maille today. “Anything more than that is technically not Dijon.” In 1937, it was ruled that Dijon mustard did not have a protected geographical indication (PGI), giving license to making mustard anywhere. In the same vein, there are many origins and sources of Dijon mustard too — Jean Naigeon, the French painter, comes up as an innovator in 1856 by swapping vinegar for verjus, and Grey Poupon, another fabled Dijon mustard brand, who lays claim to developing of a mustard making machine — but Maille (pronounced “my”), which was once a vinegar company, originating in Marseille, in the south of France, in 1723, actually replaced verjus with vinegar earlier in the mid-18th century.
Not only was vinegar cheaper than verjus, but vinegar also allowed the product to become more widespread, as it held up better in transport. Verjus requires refrigeration, vinegar does not — refrigeration was not invented until the early 20th century. Plus, Antoine-Claude Maille, the company’s founder, had become famous in the 1720s for selling vinegar “under health pretenses,” says Collins. As lore would have it, Maille came across the fabled Four Thieves Vinegar during the bubonic plague pandemic in the early 1700s. “It’s said, [Maille] witnessed four robbers with rags covering their faces, ransacking vacant houses of the recently deceased, all without getting sick. Maille turned this quartet into the police, and the perps were given two options: give up the elixir, and either be hanged or burned at the stake,” quotes Collins. They gave up the recipe (a concoction of wine vinegar, herbs, spices or garlic), and met their fate. After that, Four Thieves Vinegar was widely regarded as saving the inhabitants of Marsille. One tablespoon in water, rubbed on one’s temple and palms of hand, would ward off infection, and consequently curtailed its spread.
Off this press and popularity, Maille became a certified company in 1747, playing the parlay when Antoine’s son made mustard its primary business — he saw a more loyal, and royal customer base in Paris. There, he opened a boutique, supplying King Louis XV an aromatic range of whole grain varieties, bitter as opposed to floral, more cure-all than culinary — all utilizing Maille’s own vinegar(s), of course.
“During the reign of the dukes of Burgundy [in the mid-late 1700s], who were much richer, and had a bigger army than the king of France, [the king’s] keeping the dukes happy was very important — mustard played into that,” Collins says. When aristocracy would dine in Dijon, as a sign of respect, Maille was the chosen mustard as it wasn’t so hot as to make anyone’s makeup run. “Mustard comes through your olfactory, but doesn’t make you sweat or cry — a lot of mustards at the time were spicier,” Collins says, pointing to vinegar’s pacifying properties.
While Maille’s most classic Dijon mustard is made with a distilled white vinegar, others incorporate aged balsamic and sherry vinegar — ranging in flavors from a textural whole grain, to deep, nutty black truffle, and even hot honey. Maille’s Original Dijon, is meant to have a smoother, cleaner, and a rounder palate than the rest — so it doesn’t overpower food, yet alone your mascara. “Vinegar really adds an awful lot to foods in general,” Collins says. “It wakes up flavors and helps mute certain things, such as heat in Dijon”. Think sweet, gamey rabbit bathed in a mustard sauce (lapin à la moutarde), or a spoonful added to the very end of a very long boeuf Bourguignon red wine braise, or a simple, bracing Dijon vinaigrette dressing mixed greens or bitter chicories. “Mustard and chocolate play extremely well together,” expresses Collins, “Dijon in brownies wakes up the up chocolate flavor!” Or the quintessential combo of mustard and mayo for Dijonnaise, which Maille calls “Rich Country Mustard”, which betters both burgers and BLTs. One could even pair that with Maille’s own cornichons for an extra acidic bite.
During Maille’s storied history, they've produced over 80 mustards, with 120 different types of vinegars. In 1885, Maille was purchased by Maurice Grey of Grey Poupon, only to be sold again in 1930, before being bought back in 1952. In 1997 Unilever held stake. But throughout there was a constant, as best illustrated in as part of a 1931 marketing campaign: il n‘y a que maille qie m’aille, which translates to “Maille mustard is my mustard.” Vinegar is an unquestioning part of that statement.
