Dijon Mustard — The Condiment on Maureen’s Table That Needs No Explanation

Thirty-two. March 17. St. Patrick's Day. I went to Southie at 4 PM after my morning at the clinic. Sean came. He was in his off-week and was at his strongest. The family was all there — Grace and Sean's sister had driven in the day before. Danny flew in from New London for twenty-four hours. Father Donnelly blessed the table. Meghan was matron of honor, which is a title she held for the meal because she always holds it when the family assembles. Maureen made the corned beef and her horseradish cream. I ate. Sean ate. Nora ate. Liam ate. The candles were on a small cake with "KATHERINE" written on it by Maureen herself with a cake-writer pen.

I am thirty-two. I am a mother of two. I am a wife of a husband with a terminal illness. I am a nurse practitioner in training. I am the eldest sister of a family that is rallying around me. I am holding a pen on my own birthday night at 11 PM in my own kitchen and writing the sentence "I am thirty-two" and I am, right now, sufficient for the year I am in.

Sean gave me a gift at the dinner — a small silver locket with a picture of our family inside. Professional photograph, taken two weeks ago by a friend of Meghan's who was willing to come to the house and do a family sitting in our living room. Sean and me and Liam and Nora, on the couch, laughing at something Liam had said. The picture is beautiful. The locket is small, antique, old silver. Sean said "something you will always have." He did not have to explain what he meant. Everyone at the table understood. No one said anything for a minute. Then Patrick said "happy birthday, Kate" and we moved on. I am wearing the locket now. I will wear it for a very long time.

I came home at 9. Sean was tired. He went to bed by 9:30. I stayed up with a cup of tea and the brown notebook. I wrote down the dinner. I wrote down the locket. I wrote down my mother's horseradish cream and that she had made it "a little hotter" this year because my father said I had liked last year's on the heat side. I wrote down what Sean said at 9:20 when he stood in the hallway before going up to bed — he said "Kate. Thank you for coming into this life. I am sorry I am leaving it early. I love you more than I have the words for." He said it in the hallway, in the moment of climbing the stairs. He did not wait for me to respond. He went upstairs. I sat on the bottom step. I cried for eleven minutes. Then I went upstairs. He was asleep. I got into bed. I held his hand. I slept.

Thirty-two.

Maureen made her horseradish cream that night, and my father told her she’d made it hotter because he remembered I’d liked the heat the year before — that small, careful act of love is the thing I keep coming back to. But alongside the corned beef there was also the Dijon, plain in its little white ramekin, the way it always is, and it occurs to me now that a good homemade Dijon is one of those things a family just quietly inherits. If you’re making corned beef — for St. Patrick’s Day, for a birthday, for any table where people you love have gathered — make this alongside it. It takes almost no time, and it is exactly right.

Dijon Mustard

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 15 minutes (plus 24 hours resting) | Servings: 16 (about 1 cup)

Ingredients

• 1/2 cup yellow mustard seeds
• 1/4 cup brown mustard seeds
• 1/2 cup dry white wine (such as Sauvignon Blanc)
• 1/4 cup white wine vinegar
• 2 tablespoons cold water
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/2 teaspoon granulated sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon ground turmeric

Instructions

1. Soak the seeds. Combine the yellow and brown mustard seeds with the white wine and white wine vinegar in a small bowl. Cover and let soak at room temperature for at least 8 hours or overnight. The seeds will absorb most of the liquid and swell considerably.
2. Blend. Transfer the soaked seeds and any remaining liquid to a blender or food processor. Add the cold water, salt, sugar, and turmeric. Blend on high for 1–2 minutes, scraping down the sides as needed, until the mixture reaches a smooth, creamy consistency. For a coarser, more rustic mustard, pulse briefly and stop early.
3. Adjust and taste. Taste the mustard and adjust salt or sugar as needed. If the texture is thicker than you’d like, blend in an additional tablespoon of cold water at a time until you reach your preferred consistency.
4. Rest. Transfer to a clean glass jar with a tight-fitting lid. Refrigerate for at least 24 hours before serving — this rest period mellows the sharp initial bitterness and allows the flavors to develop fully.
5. Serve. Serve alongside corned beef, roasted meats, charcuterie, or sandwiches. Keeps refrigerated for up to 3 months.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 35 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 2g | Carbs: 2g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 145mg