The memory is rather proustian, carrying me back to a time when I breathed in the sea air and the smell of the Redwood forest, watched egrets and ravens come to roost each evening, read and thought constantly about very high minded things, and occasionally afforded myself the luxury of a golden jar of heaven. I would eat it on sandwiches of sprouts and avocado, on jalapeno bagels with lox and cream cheese, and well everything.
This substance, made of mustard, honey, dill, oil and magic, had previously evaded me. In my more nostalgic moments I have considered paying a dear price to have it shipped to me. More often I have attempted in vain to find copycat recipes. I wax nearly as nostalgic about this stuff as I do about Tudor's Biscuit World.
Today, however, I had a triumph. While daydreaming about dinner, something I spent time on during my years in school almost as much as thinking really deep thoughts, I searched the internet for "how to serve gravlax" and come upon this. BINGO! I had been so attached to the brand name of the sauce that I never stopped to consider that it was probably a thing known outside the boundaries of my northern California paradise. With further research I found that it is traditionally called "hovmästarsås" in Sweden.
After whipping some up I served it with home cured gravlax (imagine, having the skill and confidence to make gravlax, but considering sending away for a sauce as simple as this) and sliced green apples. This version is significantly more green and dilly, but I was in heaven and I think it may be a while before I stop putting it on everything. Dave already suggested putting it on cheeseburgers. I think I may take a sprout sandwich with me to work tomorrow for the sake of nostalgia.