As readers of my last column will be aware, I have been on a long research tour exploring the gastronomy of France. 

When you write about food and drink, these are the kind of things you have to do, purely, of course, for the benefit of your readers.  You can thank me later.

Last week I found myself in the city of Dijon, once known as the powerhouse of the Dukes of Burgundy, who at one time ruled over a domain bigger than that of the King of France. 

As a result, Dijon is a grand city, full of amazing architecture and history.

It is also one of the most important food hubs in France, which is in itself saying something. 

So it was inevitable that I should make my way to the incredible 'Halles', the indoor market which offers an absolute cornucopia of food and drink to the demanding consumers of this region.

As I have done throughout my trip when shopping for food, I brought with me my trusty Colman's cool bag, which I was given many years ago when I was contracted to write some copy for that august company. 

The bag is bright yellow and emblazoned with the iconic Colman's logo, which once upon a time was an important part of the Norfolk and Norwich landscape, but which has sadly rather disappeared from our lives.

I shouldn't have been surprised that this logo would be of such interest to the foodies of Dijon: the city is the undisputed mustard capital of France, and while Norwich once vied for the honour, the French city now holds the world title as well.

Many of the traders at Dijon's market asked the same question: what happened to Colman's mustard? 

Some of them knew the connection with Norwich - it is probably fair to say that Colman's was one of the only Norfolk food and drink brands which has ever cut through on the world stage.

I had to admit, sadly, that my home city has let this claim to worldwide fame slip through its fingers. 

While there are some valiant efforts being made to resurrect our county's reputation in the mustard stakes, with firms like Condimentum seeking to boost the profile of the county's mustard growers and Monty's producing proper Norfolk mustard, these names are not (yet) finding widespread recognition in the way that Colman's once did.

That is a real shame, because Norfolk mustard is in one important way much more authentic than the more widely known Dijon product. 

This is because the raw ingredients, the mustard seeds themselves, are grown in the county; the majority of the seeds used in Dijon mustard come from Canada (although there is a movement to grow more locally).

So how did we get to the situation where once again the Norfolk authenticity and food producing expertise has not translated into widespread recognition outside the county?

As I have mentioned many times in these pages, it is because we as a county have failed to create and build a compelling brand for the county's food and drink. 

Yes, we had Colman's, but as circumstances have shown, when push comes to shove a commercially-owned brand has little or no loyalty to a particular geography; corporate profits always come first.

It has been interesting to visit strong Dijon mustard brands such as Faillot, which are well-known in France, but which recognise the value in subjugating their own brand recognition in favour of the bigger picture - in this case the value of the Dijon mustard name. 

Because we in Norfolk have never bothered to develop a local food brand, it is unsurprising that when Colman's abandoned the county, our reputation in the mustard stakes went with it.

In other countries, this kind of regional brand building is undertaken by public bodies, because there is a recognition that it is a sound investment which will result in employment, economic prosperity and therefore more money for public services. 

Is it too much to hope for that with our current political reset, this kind of long-term thinking might take hold?