Don't Hold the Mayo

Make the Mayo.  It is quick and easy, and I am not kidding.  I looked it up, whipped it up, and ate it up in under 30 minutes.  Worth every second.

My extended family is one of those whose reunion food tables are segregated by Hellman's and Miracle Whip. Being in the Hellman's camp, of course, my grandmother could be seen eating mayonnaise by the spoonful while pretending to add it to the potato salad. So it may be needless to say, this ubiquitous condiment was integral to eating, and eating is something we did a lot of growing up. While I couldn't even imagine licking my finger if a drop of mayonnaise got on it, a sandwich just wouldn't be right without it. So, I'd say, after ketchup and butter, mayo is one of those things you have with you on the desert island.

Fast forward to adulthood. I have been carrying on an interior argument (in my head with my self) about mayonnaise since I joined Costco. We decided to join for great prices on big volume baby items. But we promised to buy only products we already used. And mayonnaise fell in that category.  After a year and a half, it occurred to me to search the label to find the expiration date on the over-sized version of the jar that lived in every refrigerator of my life. I was blown away by how long ago the product in my hand (and in the current batch of potato salad in the mouths of my children) had expired.  How can you expect me to buy two gallons of mayonnaise and consume it in under a year?  So, of course like a good epicure and careful mother, I threw the remainder away and bought new.  I did this about three time before I decided this new gallon I just bought would be the last.  (I could buy smaller jars of it, but that would defeat the purpose of Costco, right?)

Then again, what kind of raw egg-based product lasts a year?  Back to the label for the ingredient list.

Their slogan:  America's #1 Mayonnaise is made with real*, simple ingredients: cage-free eggs, oil and vinegar. (I love that asterisk on "real."  And cage-free doesn't mean "free-range" by any stretch (think big, dark, crowded pen.)

Their "real" ingredients: SOYBEAN OIL, WATER, WHOLE EGGS AND EGG YOLKS, VINEGAR, SALT, SUGAR, LEMON JUICE, CALCIUM DISODIUM EDTA (USED TO PROTECT QUALITY), NATURAL FLAVORS. (Though it is not labeled as such, according to a press release from the parent company, Unilever, Hellman's contains genetically modified soybean oil and other ingredients "created through biotechnology.") Better living through science! Oh, and about that EDTA, if you have leftover mayonnaise in that gallon drum like I did, just use it to clean your tea kettle.

The telling of this anecdote is not intended to used to bash Hellman's. Or bash the mayonnaise industry in general.  But maybe to wake up the mayonnaise-eating public (self included) who so blithely slathers on a condiment so rife with evil problems.  There has to a better way, right? I asked my mother who assured me that homemade mayonnaise was not a viable option because her mother unsuccessfully had tried to make it.  Upon further questioning, she admitted that it was only the use of dry mustard in the recipe that turned her off. So I set out to make the same mistakes my ancestors made.

A quick search through two circa 1950's cookbooks yield 10 basic mayonnaise recipes, from quick to boiled to hardboiled to blender.  I debated between Three-Minute Mayonnaise in The Settlement Cookbook, and Blender Mayonnaise in The Joy of Cooking. I chose Blender Mayonnaise simply because my blender was more accessible at the moment than my hand mixer.


Have ready and set aside:
1 cup of oil  (vegetable or olive or try something daring like walnut oil)
3 tablespoons of lemon juice (approx juice of a small lemon)

Put in blender container:
1 egg
1 teaspoon dry mustard
1 teaspoon salt
a dash of cayenne
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 cup oil

Cover and blend on high until completely combined, just a minute or two.  Then, turn blender to lowest speed, open the lid a bit and pour in slowly, very slowly, 1/2 cup of the oil.  And then slowly add the lemon juice, then the rest of the oil. By the time the last drop of oil went in, the mayo was ready to spread on my baloney sandwich.