I’m fond of Inglehofer mustards - they can be pretty strong though.
I will always over-react when dealing with Brits and mustard. Always.
It dates back to a 13 year old silenus making himself a ham and cheese sandwich by the side of the road in Yorkshire on his first trip to Britain out of foodstuffs purchased from the local grocery. A young lad who had never encountered any mustard other than French’s. A lad who applied the same amount of Colman’s that he would have applied the yellow stuff.
No, I will never forget. Or forgive. 
I bet your sinuses are still clear, lo these many years later.
Is Coleman’s the same as Keen’s?
Yeah, I think so.
French’s definitely tastes different from generic mustard. I like generic better. This thread has inspired me to try other brands!
Try getting some from here. We got a gift basket last year and some of the selections were amazing.
Congratulations, silenus, you found the only “food” in England with any redeeming quality!
Oh blimey…lordy.
Could you taste the ham at all?
I don’t think I tasted anything for at least a fortnight.
Now, of course, it wouldn’t bother me a bit. I slather Philippe’s mustard on sandwiches by the spoonful and smile.
Philippe’s: *I bit slowly through the French roll which was crusty, but rather dry. Understandably, the bread has to be slightly dry in order to soak up more jus. I chewed. My mouth, and I imagine my face, went from 0 to 60 in 15 seconds on the Scoville scale. The mustard wasn’t just hot; it was fire. Let me say that one more time. The mustard was fie-yer. It cleared my sinuses so hollow I could have shined a flashlight up to my brain. I had to throw my head back to keep tears in my eyes from falling. My nose started to run. I had the back of my left hand held up to my nostrils, my other hand still holding the sandwich. I was a weeping, mustardy mess. And I kept on eating. The burn was too good, only relieved every once in a while with a tiny sip of wine. Red wine seems to pair perfectly with a completely sterilized sense of taste and smell. Lovely.
The macaroni salad was made with little fat cylinders, not the usual elbow macaroni. The shape was cute and reminded me of some sort of Italian soup I’ve had once, but the taste was just eh. In fact, it tasted like noodles mixed with Miracle Whip. Or maybe that’s all I could taste with my now mustard-induced tongue de-sensitization.
Overall, Philippe the Original French Dip sandwich was good, but I don’t think I’ need to brave the downtown traffic for it. The mustard on the other hand? I am hot for Philippe’s mustard.*
But do you know Jack?
On my first trip abroad at age 20, I found myself in a Paris bistro around ten in the morning, absolutely famished. When I saw they sold “'ot dogs” that consisted of four wieners stuffed into a baguette for four francs ($1 back in 1975!), I had to have one. Once I had it, I took it back to my table and proceeded to slather it with good French (not French’s) mustard before taking a bite.
A French family sitting at another table were watching every move I made. After I had taken a bite of the “'ot dog” and the mustard started coming out my nose, I stood up and said “I need a Coke!” (which actually cost more than the sandwich). The family thought this was hilarious and had a good laugh at the dumb American tourist.
Not a Billy Holiday song?
Since this thread was last active, I’ve tried a Szechuan place near me that has the hottest mustard I’ve ever experienced, or, indeed, imagined. I had previously thought myself impervious to any physically-achievable level of mustard heat, but this place kicked my butt. Mind you, I can still eat the mustard, but it’s the first time I’ve ever encountered mustard that I have to be careful with.