Just when you think the wingnuts’ batshit insanity cannot get any more guano-unhinged, they decide to stake their stupid on Kraft mustard. Personally, I always thought what you like on your burger should be between you and your condiment, but apparently there is only one true choice. Rather than worrying about how depressed Joe McCarthy would be considering what character flaws really matter today, though, I’m sinking into my own slough of despond over how clearly the food-writing profession has failed. How can Dijon mustard be perceived as elitist today when it has to be the first ingredient in just about every vinaigrette recipe written? (And lest anyone think vinaigrette is effete, some of those recipes were titled “salad dressing,” and I cannot count how many times I’ve been threatened with “honey mustard vinegarette.”) Just thinking about all this monumental crap sent me to the databases, where I was surprised to see Epicurious’s cough up 149  recipes with the offending ingredient while Taste of Home’s yields . . . 974. Guess we know who the real Americans are now. Scrub them down with falafel.