Every once in a while, an item crosses my desk here in the sprawling Weird Chronicles complex that screams out for a column devoted solely to it. Usually, I call my highly trained staff to subdue these items and lock them safely away in the Vault of Forgotten Topics. One afternoon recently, however, I was in a contemplative mood when alert reader Karen Schulz sent me a note telling me about a wondrous place called the Mustard Museum.

The more I read, the more interested I became, and finally nothing would do but that I had to contact the curator of the Museum and find out just exactly what the place was about and how it came to exist.

It was October 27, 1986, and the Red Sox had just lost the World Series. Dejected and morose, Barry Levenson roamed the aisles of his neighborhood supermarket, muttering to himself and frightening his fellow shoppers.

He was a well-respected lawyer, and an all-around intelligent fellow. Yet, here he was, left devastated by the loss of baseball team. As he paced along, he berated himself, deciding that he needed a hobby or interest of some sort to give his life direction and focus. As he passed along the condiment aisle, so he tells, he heard a spectral voice coming from the mustards: "If you collect it, they will come."

Thus began what has grown to be the Mustard Museum, in Mount Horeb, Wis. Mr. Levenson has, through perserverance, craftiness, and all-out wheedling, become the curator of the world's largest collection of prepared mustards (currently at 3,341) and a largish array of mustard-related paraphernalia.

The quest for the best of the mustard plant has led Barry to many places, and even brought him brushes with fame. On one memorable day several years ago, he was invited to dine with none other than the King of Late Night himself, David Letterman. Being a gracious guest, Levenson took a long a graduated assortment of mustards, from mild to eyebrow-singeing. Disregarding Barry's advice to start with the mild, and to sample only a tiny amount of the hottest mustard, Dave scooped up a heaping spoonful of Royal Bohemian XXX Horseradish Mustard and shoveled it into his maw. According to the curator, Dave was rendered quite incapable of human speech for a number of minutes; and has harbored a distrust of the fine, mustardy folk of Mount Horeb ever since. Careful Letterman viewers will note that, following the evening of the tasting, the famous gap in Dave's chompers nearly doubled in width due to the influence of the combustible comestible.

Mr. Levenson hasn't allowed Letterman's snub to slow him down, though. In fact, the Mustard Museum recently completed a move to larger quarters and rolled out a slick new Web site at www.mustardmuseum.com (naturally). On the site, you can experience such wonders as a full-color shot of the collection, mustard fiction, and even mustard haiku.

If you're of a mind, you could even inquire about the creme de la creme of mustards, a French Black Truffle blend which will run you only $20 for a generous 100 grams. (That's about $100/lb for those of you who slept through the metric system in school.) If you're feeling brave, grab hold of some of the aforementioned Royal Bohemian mustard. You might want to make sure that your insurance is paid up before you make that first sandwich, though.

In conversing with the curator, I sensed (with my keen journalistic sense) a longing in his voice. Like any good collector, he's got a few "grails," items which he has sought but been unable to lay hands on. If you're in possession of a Jayhawk mustard mill, a Colonel Mustard card from an original set of "Clue," or paraphernalia from the Mustard Club of England, do drop him a line.

What's in the future for the Mustard Museum? Well, certainly it will be listed on the National Register of Historic Places. No doubt the Smithsonian will recognize it as an official branch. I would fully expect culinary intelligentsia from around the world to converge there at regular times on pilgrimages to sip from the Font of Mustard Knowledge. I've even heard rumors that Chairman Kaga has approached Barry about making the journey to Japan to appear in a special "Mustard Battle" edition of "Iron Chef." Surely the mighty Chefs are quaking in their brightly-colored outfits at the thought of having to face off against the Master of Mustard.

If you're ever up Wisconsin way, stop by the sleepy town of Mount Horeb and get directions to the Mustard Museum. If you, like me, find yourself on the opposite end of the continent, stop by in virtuality and explore the site.

Take the "Who Wants To Be A Mustardaire" quiz!

Previous Stories:

• June 8, 2001: Welcome, Weird Employees
• June 1, 2001: Have A Weird Vacation
• May 25, 2001: Danger, Danger Everywhere
• May 11, 2001: Welcome To The Weird Wide Web
• May 4, 2001: Things To Do In The Dark
• April 27, 2001: Weird Omens And Wacky Portents
• April 20, 2001: Walk On The Weird Side
• April 13, 2001: Just Plain Weird
• April 6, 2001: Love, Weird American Style