Mustard - Part 2

I must admit I was concerned, I got home and reached straight for the mustard. I took my mustard jar out of the fridge (should mustard be kept in a fridge?) and I studied the yellow Colman's jar.

The best before date was October '07. 'Aha!' I thought, not too far off my 'End of 'O7' blog post guess..!

But as I studied the packaging I was still concerned. I'd blogged about mustard losing it's spice without warning to it's purchasers, but perhaps it did have a 'Best consumed within x weeks of opening' statement? This would have rendered my last post meaningless... I might have had to delete the post... But, no! Simply a, 'Store in a dry cool place,' statement. (Should mustard be kept in a fridge?)

Hmm, 'interesting phrasing' I thought, 'Store in a dry cool place' and not the more usual, 'Store in a cool dry place...' But actually I'm not going to blog about that. No.

I saw a far more interesting line on the jar... 'If you have any questions or comments please phone FREE on 0800 281026 (UK only) Mon-Fri 9am-5pm.

Of course I had a question AND a comment! (Was that allowed, or would this have to be two phone calls?)

I decided I wanted to ask the experts at Colmans, 'Why did mustard lose it's hotness after it's opened?' And my comment was going to be a bit cross (sorry) it was, 'Why don't you tell us the mustard flavour spoils after a few weeks!?'

I must admit I was quite intrigued by the existence of this special phone line for Mustard questions. And I thought I'd try to get my money's worth from the service. (Which is free.)

Here's a few questions I thought I could ask. If you can think of more please let me know.

-- What do people normally ask a Mustard Hotline?

-- How do you get a job as a Colman's Mustard Hotline operator? Are you busy or do you have long (mustard sandwich) lunch breaks?

-- Do you prefer the flavour of hot newly opened mustard, or mild few-weeks old (spoiled) mustard?

-- Should mustard be kept in a fridge?

-- Was it important to use a 'dry cool' place, or would a 'cool dry' one do just as well?

I'll let you know what the Colman's mustard people say.

Mustard

I had a pretend ham and mustard bagel for lunch today. I'd used a newly opened jar of Colmans English Mustard to make my bagel, and I was surprised by the spicy-hot strength of the mustard in my sandwich. Then I remembered that new mustard is always stronger than mustard from a jar that's been open a bit.

I've been trying to understand the science of this dramatic change in mustard strength. The only conclusion I can reach is that there's some kind of food spoilage going on. It has to be that spicy-hot mustard seed particles are degrading over time, and that possibly bacteria in the air, or else photosynthesis is responsible for this loss of hot-mustard flavour? I didn't really know, I only got a 'C' for GSCE Science.

I didn't like the thought, as I munched my bagel. Even though my mustard bagel was very tasty I was concerned that by next week I would be eating a pretend ham and mustard bagel with inferior, and even spoiled, mustard.

I was confused, because I was fairly sure that Colman's English Mustard had a very long shelf life. I suspected my mustard jar would have a 'best before' of late 2007, perhaps even 2008? But something was happening to my mustard, changing its flavour, well before the date of 'so called' best-ness.

I suppose you could argue that people might prefer the milder taste of a few-weeks-open jar of mustard? Even if it is (scientifically speaking) slightly rotten and spoiled. But I thought that Colmans should at least have a 'Less Hot by' date on the jar. Of course they could still have their, 'Best Before December 2007' but alongside this they should also have a notification someting like, 'Less hot after 2 weeks opened.' They could reassure people with 'But it never goes mouldy' even though the mustard seed particles were clearly degrading to make the taste change.

Fascinating stuff... And if you like the strong flavour of newly opened mustard then I'd suggest you adopt a plan of finding a local cafe and stealing individual sachets of mustard. Then you can always have mustard as hot and fresh as the day it was opened.

But if you like the milder mustard flavour of slightly spolied mustard seed particles? Well, then you should buy the very biggest jar that you can find of Colmans English Mustard. After a few months it won't taste very mustardy at all, but it will still be bright yellow and look like mustard. And don't worry, it won't go mouldy.

Unless... (New theory!) Perhaps the yellow of the mustard seed particles is simply dying mould so you can't see it? Perhaps the mustard taste is so strong it takes a while for the mustard taste to be overcome by the de-strengthening mouldy spores (less 'hot') flavour. Or else it is something to do with photosynthesis..?

I'd Google, but I'm too busy eating my lunch.

Ho hum

I'm writing this this morning instead of replying to Steve's Late Night Long Email. We've debated whether 'loved up' should be spelled 'lovved up' or even 'luvved up' but found no real conclusion, we just know how those words feel. We watched 'The Village' in bed late last night, on Steve's laptop. Good film. Although I upset Steve when I told him that I'd guessed the twist. He'd told me there was a twist, that meant I was bound to try to guess it! So we had a lazy, lovved up, minor falling out. We followed this with me waving my arms high in the air, demonstrating how much in love with him I was. Typical me, I found something to worry about even in that.

I said, "If you're..." Arms drawing line high in air... "That Much in love... Where does love go?"

I couldn't imagine my love line, high in the air, getting any higher, or the feeling that inspired it becoming any stronger. So if your arms are as high as they can go in the air, what happens next? Where does love go?

Typical me, I suggested the love had to go down. Steve suggested it might become a wavy line, sometimes up, sometimes down, but always high.

Another theory was that we'd find a new stage of love. if this was stage 1 of love, we'd reach stage 2. We'd remember the time the line was high up in the air, but become so comfortable with this feeling that we'd enjoy new benefits. Steve pointed out that we were now lying comfortably in bed, he was wearing his tacky, 'Gutshot - only real name in poker' T-shirt, I had no make up and my wonky glasses. We both looked crap. We didn't notice. If we did notcice we wouldn't care.

So we came to that classic conclusion, 'No point worrying about things you have no control over.' Instead it's see what happens next, 'Lets just enjoy things'. Steve said you can handle a lot when you decide not to worry about it.

This blog post is a diversion from chores. I have another diversion planned soon, a lovved up reply to Steve's loved up email. Then I need to bash out NaNoWriMo words.

I'm on 17,995 words when I should be on 20,004. And it should be 21,671 by the end of the day... I haven't once been ahead of the average word count. I'm finding this hard. But I haven't given up.

Steve was on 17,000 by day 7. He won't tell me how many words he's written now, but I expect it must be nearly 25,000.

I'm competetive. Which is not a good thing. Steve's not like that at all. But he knows I'm a bitter jealous fool, so he doesn't boast about his word count in case it upsets me. Which it probably would. I wonder how it would be if I was on 25,000 and he was struggling? I don't know... But I feel sure that I'd be happy if Steve finished the challenge, even if I didn't. Maybe that's the next stage of lovved up-ness? Forget arms waving in the air demonstrating personal feelings, think arms high in the air, celebrating victory for someone you love, or arms holding someone who needs a hug. Perhaps the next stage of lovved up-ness is forgetting to wonder, 'What is love?' Instead using those feelings to change for the better, using them to stop being a bitter, jealous, fool of a girlfriend.

Robot Pig Man Mouse Catcher

I love Steve's blog, I told him that I believed in Tooting Bec magic, but to be honest my faith in this has faded a little. It's as if Steve has picked up where I left off. He seems to be the new protector of the magic, perhaps guarding it until my magic-seeking spirit is restored?

He seems to see Tooting Bec as a place of mystery and enchantment too, and often blogs about the adventures he finds on his trips home. I like that his blog fills me in on the part of his day I miss when he leaves my side, and each morning it reassures me that he got home safely. So much happens on his journeys home that I sometimes wonder if the magic might have left the tube station, and relocated to the bus stops and taxi offices, that he uses in his early hours trips home to Streatham?

Steve once saw off a fox in my living room, with only a cardboard roll sword, and a towel shield. Yesterday he dealt with a mouse that left me, Amy, and Agi screaming, and looking for chairs to jump on. With a glass cup, a page of Time Out, a trip down the road, and manly bravery, the tiny rodent was soon gone. Amy decided he'd left it outside number 16 where schoolfriend, George, lives.

So Steve's my hero. A hero who on one heroic Wednesday can catch mice, hang wall mirrors, cook tea, write cheery-uppy emails, work on his novel, and all this whilst having his heart checked out with wires and a black box. The wires made Amy decide he's a robot.

Steve doesn't read my blog, so he won't know I'm writing about him today. His last email's subject was 'Robot Pig Man - Mouse Catcher'. I don't like the 'pig man' bit, Amy's wrong about his greed at the tea table.... But let me explain the subject heading of his last blog post. My romantic hero boyfriend often uses secret code phrases in his blog, that only I will ever get. Like, 'Big Elephants Always Understand Small Elephants' and also 'Magazines Need More Dogs and Balls'.

As well as the mouse catching, mirror hanging, tea cooking, novel writing, and robotics, yesterday my wonderful boyfriend helped Amy make a collage from old issues of Time Out. Amy insisted on making a picture of dogs and balls. There aren't many dogs in Time Out, yet Steve gamely found a few. And put up with her whining when the dogs were too big, too small, or the same dog as before.

I wish I could write a love letter of a blog to Steve. I wish that he could read this post... But my romantic hero boyfriend, loves me enough to know that I prefer to blog without the complication of him reading this.

So I'm writing a novel in a month, and I think this will be a 50,000 word love story inspired by him. I'm only on 12,471 words. I should be on 15,003 as it's day 9! Keeping to 1,667 words a day is hard work. So far my novel is sad, Steve says his is too. The only thing we agreed about our NaNoWriMo novel plots is that our stories must have a happy ending.

So, I'd better go bash out more words. I want to get closer to the happy 40,000's. I'm especially looking forward to word 49,999, 'The' and word 50,000, 'End'. A happy ending should be easy if it's inspired by my Robot Pig Man Mouse Catcher. At the end of the 30 days I hope we'll be able to celebrating writing some kind of a novel, but if not I hope we can celebrate eight happy months of Tooting Bec magic together.

Borat vs Robert Kennedy

Steve says I'm more laddish than he is. But I don't think he minds that I like a pint and a game of poker, a little bit more than he does. I think he minds that I sometimes chat on MSN with my colleagues in a 'nudge nudge wink wink' style. Maybe I am more laddish than ladylike? I was quite proud to have used Tit and Arse shots on the PokerStars.com official blog. Steve used James Joyce quotes on the Gutshot one.

I like laughing at piss-poor countries, so of course I'm eager to see the Borat film. Whereas Steve's excited to see a new film about Robert Kennedy. All I know about 'Robert Kennedy' is politics. Steve knows lots about politics. Well... I know a fair bit about the history of early computer games.


Steve told me why he likes Robert Kennedy, and said, 'He made speeches that would make their hair on your neck stand up. That kind of stuff. So yes. Kiss me and send me to the cinema on my own. I’ll get a curry on the way home. :o)'

I do like curry.

Steve likes salad. He knows how to make a very nice balsamic vinegar dressing.

And of course I want to see his Robert Kennedy film!

I wonder what Steve will think of Borat?

Diversion

8,865 words now. We said we'd write till 10.15pm. I thought I'd blog less when I was doing this noveling challenge, instead writing blog posts seems easier than bashing out the next novel plot twist. It is 'bashing out words' not writing, and that's the idea - 50,000 words in 30 days, no thoughtful editing allowed. The rules state, 'Turn off your Inner Editor.' I do love the freedom of this seat-of-your-pants approach to writing. Not-even-knowing-which-pants-you're-wearing is justifiable. My personal target tonight is 9,000 words. And it should be reachable because I do have some plot in mind. I just don't know how to get there from the bit of the plot I've stopped at now.

Steve is typing away. I can see his dense paragraphs. We're not looking at each others work at all, except in a squinting at it, blurry kind of way. I can see he has dense paragraphs, and he's commented a few times on the sparse text he sees when squinting at mine. "Ooh, double spacing!" He just said.

So far a side effect of this novel writing challenge is drinking lots, and listening to iPod playlists. I've discovered I like Steve's music, and he seems to like mine. And we both like bashing words out on a keyboard, whilst drinking and listening to iPod music. When we finish the night with a good quota of words it feels great to hug and chat about it all. So I'd better bash at my novel, not my blog some more. I want to earn a hug.

I'm not blogging...

50,000 words in 30 days is hard. I'm behind everyone I know who's doing this NaNoWriMo challenge. I'm on around 6,000 words. I suspect Steve is on 10,000 plus, he's not telling me any more because he knows I could take it badly. His friend Barron is on 7,500 words. And I feel competitive with Steve's friend Barron, just because he was rude to Steve a couple of times, and seems like an arrogant prick.

I am enjoying writing the novel. The book about NaNoWriMo is called, 'No plot? No problem!' This promotes a helter-skelter, don't-give-a-fuck, off-the-top-of-your-head approach to writing. I'm enjoying this style of Noveling so far. I've had fun with plot twists involving Enid Blyton's Faraway Tree book, pretentious 1950's style greasy spoons, and green and yellow paper pants.

Amy loves the Faraway Tree books, they were first published by Enid Blyton in 1939. My Mum read it to me as a kid, I'm sure she read it when she was little too. If I had time to blog I'd tell you about it. I'd tell you all about pop biscuits, and the different magical land at the top of the tree each day, and Fanny and her cousin Dick and their visits to 'queer lands' where they always find a 'gay adventure.'

But I'm on 5,833 words. I said I wouldn't quit until I've done 6,000. Fuck.

Steve keeps threatening to throw in flying monkeys when he gets stuck. I think it's a bit too early to get that flying monkeys kind of desperate. Ah, my notes say, 'Sick. Trying to be sick.' Might get to 6,000 words yet... Fuck.

I've written a few paragraphs of, 'Fuck fuck fuck's just to boost the word count.

Fuck.

Sorry, this is the blog. Word counts don't matter.