There are so, so many different choices. Whenever someone brings up mustard ratings, I think of something that happened back in the early '70s... funny, the persistence of memory. Anyhow, I was maybe 17 or so. I'd been at my cousin Larry's house, we were playing poker all night. Earlier in the week I'd read an article in Esquire magazine, with mustard ratings. And one of my favorites, Mister Mustard, was in there, and it wasn't rated very well. To this day, I remember the single sentence that passed judgement: "Hot stuff from Cincinnati with little flavor." And I had thought: wait a second. Who's right here? And I went to the fridge, and I tasted it. And I decided that I was right; it was really good. I liked it.
So back to my cousin Larry's house. It's after midnight, and we're tuned in to the late movie, and it's time to make a snack, and we grill up some hot dogs, and I reach into his fridge for the Mister Mustard, and Larry says, "Ugh. You eat that? It's all hot, without any flavor." And I said, "Yeah, I read that article, too. But I tasted it myself, and I decided that I was right, it's really good. He's wrong."
My round about point is, sometimes you just remember things. Like, trust your taste buds.
<message edited by Mosca on Thu, 07/7/11 12:26 PM>