Don't even start us on those neon pink eggs sitting in the big jar on the Philippe the Original counter. Somewhere around Alameda and First we start hearing their siren song, and then suddenly we're inside Philippe's, and the eggs are so close, and we're buying one, and we're in delirium.
But there's something we think about even more than the famous French Dippery's hard-boiled eggs, if such a thing is possible. That mustard. You know the mustard. Available on every table in a little jar. Deeply slatherable. And hot, deliciously so. Use too much and your ears practically pop, but in a pleasurable way.
It's hard for us to depart the landmark without buying a jar at the old-fashioned candy counter. And at $4.75, it is a bargain, both as a gift for someone faraway who has never been to Philippe's (poor them) or your local French Dip obsessive. We just typically buy one for our own fridge, because we are so selfish that way, especially in the condiment department. Our mustard. Ours ours ours.
