I don’t mean your supermarket-purchased shelf-stable vegannaise, dijonnaise, creamy with whole egg, spicy chipotle, herby, aioli, 99% fat free or Kewpie. I mean the egg yolk and oil emulsion I make with my bare hands (and a bowl and a whisk and a damp cloth). Since time immemorial people have been forcing egg yolks and oil into a smooth emulsion. How, you ask? Whip it, whip it good. Yes, I did just want to make that joke, sorry not sorry.
Luckily, the egg yolk contains lecithin, a molecule that helps stabilise the emulsion. It’s something to do with one hydrophilic (likes water) end and the other end being hydrophobic (dislikes water). If you need a more science-y explanation, I suggest you consult J. Kenji Lopez-Alt’s fine work or read Harold McGee’s “McGee on Food & Cooking: an encyclopaedia of kitchen science, history & culture”. I’ve owned this particular tome for twenty years and it rarely gets put back into the bookshelf as I consult it so regularly. I think I understand what he’s saying, just not deeply enough to explain it to someone else.
I place a damp cloth under a wide, ceramic bowl to steady it. Two eggs are then placed in the bowl. Adding a little salt to the egg yolk – does it help break it up? I think so but again maybe ask McGee. I also squeeze in a little fresh lemon juice. Whisk this lot together so it’s all smooth before starting down the long oil addition path.
You might want to pop Netflix on before you get started or press go on a podcast cause we’re going to be here awhile. This is the patience part of the process. Okay, are you ready? Drop by drop – I’m not taking literary licence here; I really do mean drop by drop – add your oil of choice, whisking all the while. Back and forth, figure eight, clockwise, anti-clockwise, take your pick just keep the whole thing moving. You can move on to drips as opposed to drops as each portion of oil becomes emulsified. Whisk, dribble, whisk, trickle, whisk, drizzle, whisk, splodge, whisk, splash, whisk.
If you add the oil too rapidly, you will break the emulsion. I’ve done it and trust me, it ain’t pretty and you’ll know immediately when it happens. Instead of one homogenous glossy whole, it will be lumpy with a distinctly separate layer of oil. If this happens, you can start over with another egg yolk, adding the split mayo bit by bit as you ruefully begin whisking again. For those playing along at home, this is the perseverance bit. What I’m saying is don’t throw it out. Cooking and recipes are all about getting better with practice and yes, learning from your mistakes. We all make mistakes and knowing how to fix them is an important part of the process.
Each egg yolk can easily take 1 cup/250ml of oil and more. I tend towards half the volume being extra virgin olive oil (buttery rather than peppery in taste) and half it being some other vegetable oil I have on hand. Many minutes later – is it 5 minutes? Is it 10? – the mayonnaise is ready to be seasoned to your taste. I add salt, pepper, a little Dijon mustard, more acidity (vinegar, lemon juice, that kind of thing) as well as oil from the tin of anchovies, herbs, spices, garlic and all manner of flavourings. You do you!
Eating solo means eating however I like and that includes licking the plate. I’ve never been one for breakfast in the morning, yet I’ll happily tuck into bacon and eggs at 3 p.m. And let’s be real—who hasn’t eaten cereal for dinner?
Even after years in the food industry, I sometimes lose my mojo. What I have learned is to ditch the judgement—internal or external—and embrace food as something fluid, adaptable, and, above all, satisfying.
After years in hospitality and catering, these are my best tips for helping everything run smooth, whatever the occasion. And most importantly, be present and enjoy yourself. It’s supposed to be fun after all.