Mierikswortelsaus

Every Christmas table needs one honest disturbance. In my grandmother's second notebook, between the roast beef and the smoked eel, there is a small line for mierikswortelsaus, horseradish sauce, written as if it were nothing. A spoon of this white sauce beside the meat, and suddenly the whole plate sits upright.

But let me tell you a secret: this sauce is not there to be polite. The Dutch table can look restrained from across the room, all linen, sliced beef, eel, bread, butter, and chilled salads. Then the mierikswortel arrives. The name gives you the part that matters safely enough: wortel means root. The rest is old and slippery, and a sensible philologist knows when not to invent a journey just to look clever.

Fresh horseradish is a winter root with a temper. Once grated, it releases its bite quickly, and vinegar or lemon steadies it before it runs away. That is the whole method. Hou het altijd simpel, always keep it simple: grate, sour, fold through cream and mayonnaise, then let it sit just long enough to become sauce without losing its sting. Serve it cold, in a small bowl, because a spoonful is enough. For obvious reasons.