Mayonnaise Snobbery

I didn't realize that I was a mayonnaise snob until I moved to The Netherlands. In 1994, about a week into our three-year stint, my family and I went to a small grocery store in our new neighborhood to purchase cold cuts and condiments.

It was June, one of the hottest Junes on record. It was so hot, in fact, that Dutch cows started leaving grassy pastures and climbing into canals to cool off. It made the national news. What a sight! I had no intention of turning on a flame or oven at the house, so here we were, looking for something tasty to make into sandwiches.

Mise en place: mustard, oil, lemon, eggs, salt.

When I stepped into one of the grocery's aisles to look for mayonnaise, my jaw dropped. The entire aisle was jam-packed with every kind of mayonnaise and mayonnaise-like food imaginable...plus some. Knowing almost no Dutch at that point in time, there was no way I could read the ingredients lists, so I decided instead to simply choose the stuff that was neither the highest nor the lowest priced, and hope for the best.

[This babble continues....]

The Dutch love French fries. Because of that, some of the best deep-fried potatoes on Earth can be found at small roadside stands all over Holland. I'm talking REAL potato here, fries made from scratch, with a thin golden crunch on the outside and a steamy, creamy center. French fries that still smell of the earth from whence they came.

Just as the John Travolta character points out in that famous "Royale with Cheese" scene from Pulp Fiction, the Dutch don't use ketchup on their fries. Instead, they smother them in fritessaus, which is basically mayonnaise, but a little different.

patat frites with fritessaus (google.com image)

Small differences, unfortunately, can sometimes cause havoc. I went on a two-month search for a brand of Dutch mayonnaise that didn't taste "funny." Eventually, I gave up, after accumulating over two dozen jars of the stuff in our tiny European fridge (and causing my late husband to start questioning my sanity). In the end, I decided that I preferred either homemade mayonnaise, or if we were out and about and stopping for frites, I would choose a different sauce to dip my fries in, usually pindasaus, made with peanut butter and Indonesian spices.

French fries with the double whammy of pindasaus AND fritesaus (google.com image). If you're wondering what the calorie count is, you can't afford to eat it. This appalling yet delicious combo is called oorlog, the Dutch word for  "war," which is supposed to be a reference to the Dutch-Indonesian war. I also like a friend's interpretation: He suggested that the name of this stuff is orlog, the Old Norse word meaning "destiny of the world." 

It was a lesson in self-awareness. Up until 1994, I was blissfully unaware that I was a mayonnaise snob. Now I know better.

I really do NOT like mayo that is sweet. Hold the sugar, please. Mayo also can't be too runny. Hate that! Or too mustardy, thankyouverymuch. Or too yellow, even if it's not mustardy. Nor too vinegary. No way.

Turns out, I don't really like mayo unless it tastes like homemade French-style mayonnaise (but not the kind made with olive oil) OR unless it tastes like the only two (arguably two, that is; I suspect they're the same company) brands of mayo that I do like. In the U.S., I like Hellmann's Real Mayonnaise when I'm living east of the Mississippi and Best Foods Mayonnaise when I'm residing and eating in the west.

Even if they are jars (or gallon jugs, at Sam's Club or Cosco) from the preferred brand names, I will not partake of any of the "light" versions, which invariably contain sugar. Removing the fat and replacing it with sugar is just strange, in my opinion. Give me that old-fashioned, stop-your-heart, full-fat, low sugar version of the stuff. Yes, indeed. Give me mayonnaise like Mom used to buy!

Ta-Dah!! Favorite condiment of  The Mayonnaise Snob.

In Europe, however, I never found Hellmann's or Best Foods, not even as a wildly overpriced American import. I was "forced" to make my own mayonnaise, which turns out to be almost as brain-dead easy as making crème fraiche. Here's how it goes: 

[OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER -- Do NOT consume mayonnaise made with raw eggs unless you are certain that the eggs are safe to eat. Do NOT consume raw egg mayonnaise if you have a weak or compromised immune system. Do NOT make this stuff if it scares you at all or if it makes you think of filing law suits. Run away! Run away!]

DIY Immersible Blender Mayonnaise

• 2 egg yolks
• 1/2 to 3/4 teaspoons salt (depending on how you like it)
• 1/2 teaspoon dijon mustard (or mustard powder, if you prefer)
• 4 to 5 teaspoons lemon juice and/or white vinegar (I prefer a 50-50 mix)
• 1-1/2 cups mild-flavored salad oil (I used grape seed oil this time)
• Up to 4 teaspoons hot water (to use if the mayo gets too stiff)

The trick to this is to use an immersible hand-held blender. Put the egg yolks, salt, mustard, lemon juice and/or vinegar in a blender jar. Blend for a few seconds with the blender.

Next, add the oil slowly as you continue blending. (Actually, this "add the oil slowly" part that you'll find in every mayonnaise recipe may not be necessary, especially if your blender is really powerful, like mine is. I just dump all of the oil in at once.)

The magic of lethicin will cause the concoction to "set."

If it is too stiff, add a bit of hot water (1 teaspoon at a time) and blend again. If it is too runny, drizzle in more oil. With luck, though, such adjustments won't be necessary.

Fun Variations:

• Roasted Garlic Aioli -- Add 3-4 cloves of roasted garlic toward the end of the blending
• Wasabi Mayo -- Add a tablespoon of wasabi powder toward the end of the blending.
• Chipotle Mayo -- Toss in a whole chipotle (and, optionally, some of the sauce they come packed in) toward the end of the blending.