Is it OK if we talk about mayonnaise?
I only ask as I know that some people gag at the very thought. If you’re one of those people, maybe this week's newsletter is not for you. I am not one of those people.
I’m writing this aboard a Ryanair flight to Stockholm. I am extraordinarily uncomfortable as I am six foot two and siting in the middle seat in my row. Im agitated and anxious, feel for the two women either side of me. For their part they are doing their best to pretend I don’t exist, to ignore the occasional appearance of my knees and elbows in their allocated apace. I’m trying my best to be as small as possible but my knees are pressed into the seat in front, my back is pressed flat into my seat back. The cabin crew made me put my bag between my feet. I can’t move or relax. I’m trapped with my thoughts. I’m trapped with these people. Whether we like it or not. And that’s what got me thinking. I wonder what they eat. Do they pick up meat on the bone and gnaw it, do they avoid butter, do they cut pizza with a knife and fork, do they finish every last morsel of sauce on the plate, do they suck prawn heads, do they ask for fish without the head on, do they like mayonnaise? Sandwiched as I was, it was upon this last thought that I found myself ruminating.
Mayonnaise, I’ve always found, is a learning experience, the making and the consumption of both. Shop bought mayo is one of life’s perfect condiments, perfectly made mayonnaise is one of life’s perfect sauces. They occupy different spaces, deserve different classification.
I want to express something but don’t want you to think me judgemental. To consider our habits, to consider our preferences, to consider our own private choices and personal little judgements, is to consider our humanity, our privilege as sentient beings.
So to remain alive to others habits, others preferences, others private choices and little judgements is to acknowledge their humanity, consider how they (or in this context I suppose, you,) have chosen to use this privilege. I wouldn’t consider it judgement, more simply intrigue, celebration, fascination.
If you claim to find chicken cooked on the bone a bit troubling, that is of interest to me. My instinct is to say I feel ‘sorry’ for you, but there is implicit judgement in the use of the word. It’s just your not alive to the pleasure derived from gnawing the bone, the flavour you’ve left in the bin not in your pot, not in your mouth.
Verging on visceral. I apologise.
The thing is, mayonnaise. It’s a conduit for preference, a leveller. If we start at the supermarket shelf, aside from ketchup, it’s the most mundane and the most delicious thing you can put in your basket. And your choice here is already interesting. Hellmans is a statement on your part, as much as how you’re telling us all something if you reach for the Heinz Real Mayo or as much as if you toss a jar of own label into your basket. Kewpie fetishists, preach, kewpie evangelists, chill. If you opt for the really bouji rich yellow organic stuff, all love to you, I hear you, you got lucky with crypto. Beyond the mayo itself there are learnings are to be had. Are you a squirter or drawn to smearing? Squeezy bottle or jar? There is no judgement on my part, although there’s much to be gleaned.
And where do you mayo? Is it a lubricant in addition to other things, is it the only condiment you need? If you had some leftover gravy, or some scrapings from a jar of chipotle, or some pesto, or sriracha, or Lao Gan Ma, or yuzu, or wasabi, or some bacon fat, or a a jar of pickled chillies with more liquor than you need, or some kimchi, or a bit of last nights supper, pork in milk or Szechuan aubergine or butter chicken; are you mixing those things into your mayo? Are you maximising your joy?
Do you make mayonnaise? Do you make it by hand or in a blender? A nutribullet or a stick blender? Have you gleaned a hack on TikTok, a knack from a YouTube chef? Do you roll a tea towel to hold your bowl in place whilst you whisk, do you slow ball your oil, do you run fast and loose and bang it in? Have you split it? Flavourless oil or grassy olive, peppery rapeseed? Yolks or whole eggs in the base? Lemon or vinegar? Dijon?
Do you know what each choice says about you? Again, I mean no judgement, instead I wonder if your choices are deliberate? Do you want your choice to say something about you?
Making grilled cheese, I mix hellmans into the grated cheese alongside anything naughty or bolstering I might have in the fridge, I use Hellmans rather than butter on the outside when frying the sandwich in the pan. Considering this now I’m signalling with my choices. I’m trying to tell you that I’m down to earth, that I’m committed to deliciousness, that I’m au fait with the higher burning point in mayonnaise over butter, that I can cook, but that I don’t need to ram it down anyones throat.
Serving borlotti beans, marinda tomato, monks beard and a homemade mayonnaise of 100% Italian first pressed olive oil, I’m telling you that I’ve got a bookshelf full of Locatelli, Hazan, River Cafe, et al, but also that I drool over Bramham, Rocha, Tobias, et al on Instagram. Not for their Italian cooking, you understand, but for their restraint, their classiness. I’m telling you also that I shop at farmers markets and treat the Natoora marketing emails like a top shelf nudie mags, I’m telling you I’m a restrained and tasteful cook, and I’m telling you, as in right now, I’m breaking the fourth wall and I’m telling you, I hate that I’m so keen to impress some of these things upon you. I feel compelled to admit my favourite sandwich is salad cream, tinned corned beef and dairylee singles cheese on thick sliced white Warbutons just to redress the balance. I want you to know I have taste. I want you to know I have base tastes.
How you feel about mayonnaise fascinates me. I can’t shy away from that. If you feel compelled, will you leave a comment below, will you open up and risk judgement, will you share how you feel about mayonnaise in your heart of hearts? Or anything else for that matter. What do you eat even though you don’t like it, just because everyone seems to think it’s cool? What do you adore but would never admit to? I’ve failed to admit that I almost always buy own brand mayo in jars, nor that I also love Kewpie, but if you tell me you love kewpie I might just judge you despite myself. I haven’t made homemade mayonnaise for about four years. I sometimes whisk some posh oil and lemon juice into Aldi mayonnaise and pass it off as homemade.
I don’t think you ever need to make mayonnaise. I also think you should make mayonnaise whenever possible. Here’s my foolproof method:
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