When we set out years ago to fashion the perfect condiment to marry the flavors
of our summer sausage and cheese, we knew it should be a mustard.
But what mustard? A yellow ball park? Too sharp. A French Dijon? Too...uh...French.
A dark, hearty German? Too overpowering.
We asked ourselves, did we needed something sweet to accentuate the savory flavor
of the cheese? Or something hot to play up the smoky flavor of the sausage?
An argument ensued in the company kitchen. "Sweet!" "No, Hot!"
Then the lady who ran the switchboard at the time, a peacemaker by nature,
made a quiet suggestion. How about sweet and hot?
The rest is history.
of our summer sausage and cheese, we knew it should be a mustard.
But what mustard? A yellow ball park? Too sharp. A French Dijon? Too...uh...French.
A dark, hearty German? Too overpowering.
We asked ourselves, did we needed something sweet to accentuate the savory flavor
of the cheese? Or something hot to play up the smoky flavor of the sausage?
An argument ensued in the company kitchen. "Sweet!" "No, Hot!"
Then the lady who ran the switchboard at the time, a peacemaker by nature,
made a quiet suggestion. How about sweet and hot?
The rest is history.



















