Last week I was making a new cake recipe. It was some kind of berry poppeyseed cake. So I took out my little stash of poppeyseeds. When Conrad's family came from Inida, like all consciencious Indian Mothers, his mom brought her own supply of Indian ingrediants to cook with. Among these she brought a ton of spices. She graciously left them with us when she saw my bland bland spice rack.
So when she left, Conrad had to help me decipher what was what and label them into baggies, for future use. Because, especially five years ago i was pretty spice ignorant. Back to the story at hand...I mixed the beautiful cake with lovely ingrediants in my kitchen aid and then took a little taste..yum. The last ingrediant was the small black seeds to add that sweet crunch to it. I added it and the batter looked so good I just had to taste it again. I took a small bite and got ready to savor the sweetness when I tasted...what was that? French's Mustard?
Oh no. I immediately called Conrad at work and asked him..what do Mustard seeds look like? Small black seeds? Yep. Sure enough my little baggie of inherited seeds was mislabeled. Yuck. Down the garbabe disposile. Back to the drawing board.