Dining At Mustards Grill

Flowering artichokes in the garden at Mustards Grill.
Flowering artichokes in the garden at Mustards Grill.

It’s a massive achievement for a restaurant to endure long enough to celebrate 41 years in business.

It’s even more impressive when that restaurant continues to draw crowds day in and day out of both locals and visitors alike.

Mustards Grill in Napa is that restaurant.

Chef-Owner Cindy Pawlcyn opened her restaurant in 1983, naming it for the brilliant yellow wild mustard flowers that bloom all over the Napa Valley in spring. It didn’t take long for it to turn into one of the valley’s first destination restaurants.

So, when I found out my husband had never dined there, I was flabbergasted. That omission was remedied last week when we were headed to Napa, armed with a reservation at Mustards.

The ever-popular mountain of onion rings.
The ever-popular mountain of onion rings.

We dined on a Tuesday night. But you would have sworn it was a Saturday evening, as the dining room was packed, with even a couple parties waiting outside in hopes that a table would open up soon.

It’s easy to see why its popularity hasn’t waned. It’s a convivial spot where regulars and newbies are greeted warmly.

Easy to spot right off Highway 29.
Easy to spot right off Highway 29.
The whimsical fountain out front.
The whimsical fountain out front.
The dining room.
The dining room.

The menu is large with specials written on a chalkboard hanging over the kitchen. The wine list is amusingly entitled “Way Too Many Wines.” Indeed, written in small type in tightly spaced columns, it almost resembles pages out of an old-fashioned phone book. And yes, the selection is dizzying.

One fun way to go is with a flight, such as of the Pinot Noir, in which you get three half glasses for $35. It’s an enlightening way to taste the different nuances between a 2019 Aston Estate Sonoma Coast Pinot Noir with supple cherry fruit; the jammy concentrated richer berry taste of the warmer climate 2019 El Molino Rutherford Pinot Noir, and the elegant, earthy quality of the 2020 Domaine Huber-Verdereau Hautes-Cotes de Beune Bourgogne.

Seared ahi crackers.
Seared ahi crackers.

Portions are substantial here. In fact, heads will turn when you order a side of onion rings ($13), which most tables can’t help but give into. It’s an Everest of wispy-crispy golden onion strings served with house-made tomato-apple ketchup that’s sweet and tangy, and may make you forget Heinz.

An appetizer of ahi tuna ($20.95) brings three slices of sesame-seed crusted fish seared on the outside, then arranged atop thin, delicate sesame-flecked triangle crackers that are finished with wasabi cream, soy-vinegar, and green onions. Bold, bright and light, it’s the perfect nosh on a warm summer night.

Wagyu brisket, pork sausage, and yes, that corn bread.
Wagyu brisket, pork sausage, and yes, that corn bread.
Swordfish tostada.
Swordfish tostada.

From the specials, my husband couldn’t resist the smoked Wagyu brisket served with jalapeno pork sausage, cornbread and coleslaw ($36.95). Who can blame him when the brisket is this tender and smoky, the sausage juicy with a kick of heat, and the corn bread rather legendary. Yes, you can order a side of the warm honey corn bread for $7.95. But the square that comes with this dish is sizeable, and enough to share between two. You have to like your corn bread on the sweet side, though, because this one definitely is. It’s so buttery and so fluffy, it’s almost like cake. No wonder people go bonkers for it.

The “Ever Popular Seafood Tostada” changes daily. That night it was grilled swordfish ($39.95), and plenty of it atop a large crisp tortilla covered in saucy black beans, and piled high with cabbage-jicama slaw with arugula, crumbles of cotija, and chipotle aioli.

Desserts are all $14. The restaurant is known for its lemon-lime tart that’s crowned with a “ridiculously tall brown sugar meringue.” It’s a sight to behold, a marvel we spotted at several tables.

An on-the-mark butterscotch pot de creme.
An on-the-mark butterscotch pot de creme.

However, my heart — and stomach — can never resist butterscotch pudding. Here, it’s a sizeable oval ramekin of butterscotch pot de creme gilded with whipped cream and tiny chocolate balls. It even comes with a sugared shortbread cookie on the side. Butterscotch pudding can be disappointing at times, lacking its expected punch of caramel and slightly molasses-like notes. Not so here. The pot de creme is thick, rich, and tastes deeply of butterscotch.

The entrance to the garden.
The entrance to the garden.

After dinner — or if you’re waiting for a table — stretch your legs in the organic culinary garden outside, planted long before it became fashionable for restaurants to have one.

Stalks of corn.
Stalks of corn.
Zinnias in bloom.
Zinnias in bloom.

It’s a lovely spot, strung with little lights, and planted with tomatoes, corn, squash, mint, oregano, and so much more, as well as flowers such as daisies and zinnias.

New restaurants come and go in the Napa Valley. Mustards is thankfully one constant that can be counted on.

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