A story of mustard, a Russian, and a feeble pansy boy: I once got the bright idea to challenge my friend who often irritated me with his imperviousness to what

A story of mustard, a Russian, and a feeble pansy boy: I once got the bright idea to challenge my friend who often irritated me with his imperviousness to what should be apocalyptic things. I proposed, in a state of misguided confidence, to do a shot of mustard oil. Mustard oil is a generally unknown ingredient in the green imposter most of us recognize as wasabi[1]. It's vicious. Anyway, he accepted the challenge, gulping the shot of mustard oil with a sweet grin of eagerly anticipated schadenfreude. I reluctantly took my own as pledged. The wretched agony that ensued! I writhed and squirmed in an almost hallucinatory pain until I was brought a bushel of fresh basil. Desperate, I chomped every leaf and stem and within minutes was well again, but have not forgotten. Mustard can be dangerous. But I do love Colman's. 1. Most 'wasabi' isn't wasabi.