Condiment City

The inevitable finally happened: I ran out of mustard. Timing was poor; I already had a batch of Bockwürste on the stove. Across the street was a new store I'd been meaning to check out; their sign advertised olive oils from southern Italy, so I thought maybe they'd have mustard as well. Denied: just olive oil, plus one expensive bottle of wine. No problem, though, the owner told me; all I need to do is go to the mustard store around the corner.

Pinch me.