In September, during one of his many campaign appearances in Wisconsin, Senator Kerry stopped in the small town of Mount Horeb, where he had a few beers while watching a Packers game at the Main Street Pub & Grill. As was the case with so many things in Mr. Kerry’s campaign, this was a missed opportunity. While the Main Street Pub is a respectable enough watering hole – I happen to have had a few beers there myself in August – Mr. Kerry could have scored some major points for savviness, at least with this voter, by appearing a few storefronts to the west, at the town’s most unique attraction: the Mount Horeb Mustard Museum (800-438-6878, www.mustardmuseum.com).

Since opening its doors in April 1992 (founder Barry Levenson had already been collecting mustards for more than five years at that point), the Mustard Museum has grown into a world-class showcase for the world’s classiest condiment. Its collection includes more than 4,100 mustards drawn from all 50 states and more than 60 countries. There are also antique mustard pots, educational mustard video screenings, and a gift shop featuring more than 800 mustards, many of which you can taste before deciding what to buy.

It’s tempting to treat all this as kitsch, especially since the museum playfully refers to its video room as the Mustard Piece Theater and sells T-shirts and related paraphernalia for a fictitious mustard-themed university called Poupon U.

But the jokes make it easy to overlook the museum’s celebration of mustard’s rich heritage and surprising diversity. While ketchup – destined to be forever linked to mustard, like Romulus to Remus – essentially boils down to one brand and a few also-rans, the mustard category is bursting with vitality.

You can see this for yourself at any supermarket, where the ketchup section is nearly wall-to-wall Heinz, while the mustard shelves are brimming with interesting flavors and brands. Indeed, Mr. Levenson’s mustard obsession began with a late-night supermarket run, when he heard the mustard section “calling” to him and came home with a dozen different jars.

“Ketchup evolved here in America, so it hasn’t had time to develop its own culture or heritage,” Mr. Levenson said recently while packing boxes for last-minute Christmas orders. “But there’s always been a variety of mustards – Dijon, yellow, and so on – so you’ve got a lot of different traditions that go back a long way.” Mr. Levenson’s historical point is well taken, because mustard dates back to antiquity. Black mustard seed is mentioned in the New Testament, and the Greek writer Herodotus mentioned mustard back in the fifth century B.C.E. More than a millennium before Marco Polo brought exotic spices back from Asia, mustard was already popular in Europe, because the mustard plant – which is technically a cabbage – thrives in the European climate. Medieval European courts even employed an official called the mustardarius, who oversaw local mustard production.

Mustard as we know it comes from the plant’s seeds, which come in three primary varieties: white, which are fairly mild and are used in most American mustards (the brown color of American brands like Gulden’s comes from the addition of turmeric); brown, which are stronger and are used for most Asian and European mustards (brown seeds are mixed with white to create English mustard); and black, which are rarely used anymore because the seeds are more difficult to harvest.

When mustard seeds are ground and mixed with water, an enzyme process begins, which creates mustard’s characteristic flavor. If left to develop on its own, this process essentially burns itself out and leaves a flavorless paste, but the chemical reaction can be halted by introducing vinegar or wine must. The latter is used to create Dijon mustard, the signature product of Dijon, France, where the world’s first commercial mustard production began in the 14th century.

“The other thing to remember about mustard is that it’s always been this palette on which you can paint,” said Mr. Levenson. Sure enough, browse through his museum shop’s mail-order offerings and you’ll find mustards flavored with horseradish, garlic, herbs, honey, chili, paprika, fruits, beer, wine, and a lot more.

My favorite of the shop’s wares, at least among the several dozen I tried during a recent visit to Mount Horeb, is Tulocay’s Stoneground Mustard, flavored with garlic and cabernet ($8.50 for a 9-ounce jar), which neatly straddles the line between savory and pungent.

There’s also the museum’s own mustard brand, called Slimm & Nunne – Mr. Levenson’s way of thumbing his nose at a skeptical banker who once told him that his museum’s chances of success were “slim and none.” The maple peppercorn flavor ($5.75 for a 7.75-ounce jar) has just a hint of sweetness, which is enough to make it an addictive pleasure, especially when used as a dipping sauce.

Just as flavorings make mustard taste better, mustard makes almost anything else taste better. I can’t think of a single sauce – including basic Italian-style marinara, believe it or not – that isn’t improved by a dollop of mustard. Salad dressings, meat glazes, stews, soups, meat loaf, sandwiches, seafood – basically, if it’s not meant to be sweet, you can at least think about adding mustard to it.

And yes, mustard dresses up a hot dog quite nicely, too.

I think mustard is particularly well suited to pork. The folks in South Carolina apparently agree, because that’s the one part of the country where barbecue is traditionally served with a mustard-based sauce. The pungent yellow sauce looks and tastes nothing like the gloppy, ketchup-based barbecue sauces you’re probably used to, but it goes great with any pork dish (please see accompanying recipe).

Mustard also works well when applied directly to pork, without all the extra sauce ingredients. Lately I’ve been using it in conjunction with seasoned breadcrumbs (please see accompanying recipe).

As for Mr. Kerry, Mr. Levenson said he never stopped by the museum. “My theory is that his handlers wouldn’t let him. It could have created an untenable situation, since he’s got the Heinz ketchup fortune behind him,” he said, referring to Mr. Kerry’s wife. “But I understand he does like mustard. And I just know that he’s looking back and thinking, ‘If only I had gone to the Mustard Museum, things would have turned out differently.'”

That seems unlikely. But perhaps he could have at least gotten himself elected as a modern-day mustardarius.

South Carolina – Style Barbecue Sauce

3/4 cup mustard
3/4 cup red-wine or apple-cider vinegar
2 tablespoons butter
2 teaspoons salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon Tabasco sauce
1/2 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1/4 cup sugar

Combine all ingredients in a medium saucepan. Mix well and simmer on low heat for 10 to 15 minutes. Serve with your favorite meat dish.

Pork Chops With Mustard and Breadcrumbs

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 1/3 cups coarse rye bread crumbs
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 teaspoon dried sage
1/2 teaspoon dried basil
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
4 half-pound pork rib chops, each about 1 inch thick
1/4 cup mustard

1 Preheat oven to 425 degrees. Heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add breadcrumbs, garlic, herbs, salt, and pepper and cook, while stirring, until crumbs are golden brown, three to five minutes. Transfer crumbs to a bowl and set aside.

2 Wipe skillet clean and add remaining tablespoon of olive oil. Brown chops, turning once, about four minutes. Transfer to baking pan, spread tops with mustard, and top with bread crumbs. Roast until meat is just cooked through, five to seven minutes.