Benny Jay: Mister Mustard

It’s nearing 12:30 in the afternoon and my daughters and their friends are just getting up.

It’s that limbo part of early summer — school’s out, summer jobs haven’t started. They have plenty of free time on their hands. Out late, up late — don’t act like you didn’t do the same thing.

There must be seven kids in my house — here, there and everywhere — and my older daughter’s playing the role of the short-order cook, making grilled cheese sandwiches which the kids slather with Mister Mustard.

And that’s the point — Mister Mustard. Kids love Mister Mustard. Never met a kid who didn’t. Don’t think I ever will.

You may not have heard of Mister. Mustard. It’s not as famous as the other brands on the grocers shelf. More likely than not, it’s not even on the shelf. I’m not sure why. That’s a mystery I can’t figure. If you ask me, there’s some sort of cover up, but I don’t have the time to do the investigation.

But here’s the deal — once you try Mister Mustard you won’t go back to anything else. I guarantee.

This is what it looks like….

I can’t really explain it. Never been good at describing how things taste. It’s just that Mister Mustard is all, I don’t know — mustardy like. Just try it — you’ll see what I’m talking about.

Over the years I must have introduced Mister Mustard to dozens of kids. I remember one kid — Brazil — a friend of my younger daughter. Very cautious eater. Afraid to try new things. She must have been in first or second grade. Sitting at the kitchen table getting ready to eat a turkey sandwich.

I hold up a bottle of French’s mustard and say, “This stuff’s for the rookies, Brazil.”

Then I hold up a jar of Mister Mustard and say: “Are you ready to move up to the majors?”

Brazil looks at the jar of Mister Mustard.

“Try it,” says my daughter.

“I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do,” I say. “I’ll give you a sample. Just a taste. If you like it, I’ll give you more — okay?”

She nods.

So I put a little on a piece of bread and hand it to her. Silence. She looks at the bread. She takes a gulp. My daughter and I lean closer. She puts in her mouth.

“Well?” I ask.

Big smile.

“You want more?” I ask.

She nods.

“You sure?”

Another nod.

And that was that — the girl’s been wolfing down Mister Mustard ever since.

There was this other kid, Brian Kennedy, who lived across the street about ten years ago. He used to come over for dinner all the time. The kid loved Mister Mustard more than any many alive. He would have spooned it out of the jar, if I had let him.

By the way, Brian was also the world’s foremost authority on Simpson trivia. He used to ask me to test his knowledge by asking him trivia questions. The problem is I didn’t know enough about the Simpsons to ask tough questions. He used to get mad at me cause my questions were too easy. One day I came up with a question he couldn’t answer. Then he got mad at me cause my question was too tough — you know, like it was my fault he didn’t answer it. I’m telling you — you can’t win when you’re running a trivia contest.

Brian knows everything about them….

But where was I? Oh, yes, Mister Mustard….

They used to sell it at the local Jewel grocery store. Then they discontinued it. Don’t ask me why. The managers never gave me a straight answer. I’m telling you — when it comes to Mister Mustard, there’s definitely something fishy going on….

I happened to be there on the day of the big close-out sale — jar after jar of Mister Mustard piled high in a shopping cart. I think I took every jar in the cart. Must have bought two dozen jars. Sounds like a lot but not the way these kids eat the stuff. My boy, Brian, could easily finish a jar in one sitting. It got to the point where I’d be rationing him — “easy, man, easy. This stuff is golden….”

Eventually, we ran out of Mister Mustard and had to go back to that Grey Poupon stuff. But then my mother found a small grocery store on Noyes Street in Evanston that sold Mister Mustard. I used to buy a jar or two whenever I was in town — felt like I was smuggling the good stuff across the border.

Then my wife figured out you can order Mister Mustard on the internet. We started getting cases of the stuff and everyone relaxed. It’s always reassuring to know you’re not going to run out of Mister Mustard.

It’s gotten to the point where some of kids sneak a jar or two off to their parents. Turns out that Ryan’s dad, Keith, is a Mister Mustard junkie. He can’t eat too much of it. I understand — I’ve had that condition most of my life.

Like I always tell the kids — take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves….

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