clam at their father’s side on Cape Cod, or perhaps the day they found out that Darth Vader was Luke’s father Maybe it was when they learned that playing outside can actually be more fun than watching He-Man, or when they discovered that light behaves as both a wave and a particle For me, it was the first time I saw mayonnaise being made.‡ When I was a kid, I never once thought about where mayonnaise came from I mean, it’s that kind of creamy, jiggly stuff that comes in a jar with a blue lid, right? I’d always just assumed it came from some gigantic pumpaction mayonnaise dispenser, perhaps in Wisconsin or Nebraska, one of those states that to my preadolescent mind seemed most likely to produce tons of mayo I remember the very first time I saw mayonnaise being made It was during a late-night infomercial for handheld immersion blenders (a new technology at the time, and the It kitchen gadget) The host put an egg in the bottom of a cup, poured some oil on top, placed the immersion blender in there, pushed the button, and, within a matter of seconds, the egg and oil came together into creamy, opaque, white mayonnaise My wife and I have recently been discussing what we’d like to name our children She, being South American, wants our firstborn daughter to have the beautiful Spanish name Salomé I told her that she can name our first daughter Salami as long as I can name my first son Mayonnaise in honor of my favorite condiment We’ll see who gives in first As a sandwich spread or sauce, mayonnaise is a big divider I used to be firmly on the “death before mayo” side of the divide—keep it away from the bread at all costs—but after having been slowly weaned onto it by means of excellent homemade versions, I’ve come to love it so much that I’ll even abide the blue-topped jarred stuff from time to time At its best, it is creamy, tangy, and light on the palate, with the ability to add richness to a dish without weighing it down More often than not, though, it’s either a poorly made, heavy, greasy, underseasoned goo or overly sweet, gloppy stuff from a jar OK in a pinch, but hardly something you’d want to, say, dip your asparagus into or use as the base of a Caesar salad dressing or tartar sauce So what is it that transforms two ingredients—egg yolks and oil—that are kind of icky (that’s a technical term) to eat on their own into a luxuriously rich, tangy, creamy spread that’s not greasy in the slightest, despite consisting of over 75 percent oil? It’s called an emulsion, and it’s one of the most important concepts to understand in the kitchen An emulsion is what keeps your vinaigrettes clinging to your lettuce It’s what keeps your cheese smooth and stretchy when it melts (we touched a bit on cheesy emulsions in Chapter 7) An emulsion is, quite literally, what keeps your gravy boat flowing Let’s take a closer look at this fine stuff, shall we? Mayo Basics In its loosest definition, mayonnaise is a flavored emulsion of minute particles of fat suspended in water The tiny globules of suspended fat have a very difficult time flowing around once they are separated by a thin film of water, which is what gives mayonnaise its viscosity For the record, ...of the divide—keep it away from the bread at all costs—but after having been slowly weaned onto it by means of excellent homemade versions, I’ve come to love it so much that I’ll even abide the blue-topped jarred stuff from time to... At its best, it is creamy, tangy, and light on the palate, with the ability to add richness to a dish without weighing it down More often than not, though, it’s either a poorly made, heavy, greasy, underseasoned... or use as the base of a Caesar salad dressing or tartar sauce So what is it that transforms two ingredients—egg yolks and oil—that are kind of icky (that’s a technical term) to eat on their own