French mayonnaise is not like American mayo. Many Americans keep mayo in their fridge for moistening a sandwich (after Thanksgiving, as my family likes to do) or mixing in with tuna. We can buy it in massive tubs at the supermarket, enough to last a year or two, just in case. Last night, however, when I ate la mayonnaise francaise, it wasn't a supporting role in my appetizer--it was the leading lady. Normally I hate mayo. I eat it once a year with my turkey sandwich, and then I don't touch it again until 364 days later. But, like I said, French mayonnaise is NOT like American mayo. For starters, we made our mayonnaise from scratch.
How do you make mayonnaise from scratch, you ask? Well, we did it in a class, so it was far easier to accomplish well the first time around. Three of my friends and I signed up for a cooking class. The woman (Madame Beguin) who teaches the classes does so from her penthouse apartment with a killer view:
I was in awe of such a fortunate view, but I couldn't stare at forever. We had some cooking to do, after all. Now, about this mayonnaise. It really is simple--just a sunny egg yolk, a scoop of mustard, and a whole lot of oil. You start by beating the egg yolk and mustard together. When it's time to add the oil--Mme Beguin used the oil of grape seeds, as she thinks that olive oil has too strong a flavor--you have to do it slowly, so as to let the egg yolk and mustard acclimate to their new partner.
There's nothing worse than adding the oil all at once and scaring the mustard and yolk into dissimulation. Continue adding oil until the mixture is thick and almost fluffy looking. You can also tell if it's finished because at this point, if you add any more oil it won't be fully absorbed. Add salt and pepper. Although that makes a nice mayonnaise, we didn't stop there. Instead, we added it to our bowl containing hearts of palm, avocados, grapefruit, and shrimp, stirring it all in together until we had the richest, most flavorful mayonnaise you've ever dipped your finger in. To raise the level of chic we'd already accomplished, we created moulds out of lacy cucumber and ended up with these beauties:
And voila! Simple and classy. And did I mention delicious?
How do you make mayonnaise from scratch, you ask? Well, we did it in a class, so it was far easier to accomplish well the first time around. Three of my friends and I signed up for a cooking class. The woman (Madame Beguin) who teaches the classes does so from her penthouse apartment with a killer view:
I was in awe of such a fortunate view, but I couldn't stare at forever. We had some cooking to do, after all. Now, about this mayonnaise. It really is simple--just a sunny egg yolk, a scoop of mustard, and a whole lot of oil. You start by beating the egg yolk and mustard together. When it's time to add the oil--Mme Beguin used the oil of grape seeds, as she thinks that olive oil has too strong a flavor--you have to do it slowly, so as to let the egg yolk and mustard acclimate to their new partner.
There's nothing worse than adding the oil all at once and scaring the mustard and yolk into dissimulation. Continue adding oil until the mixture is thick and almost fluffy looking. You can also tell if it's finished because at this point, if you add any more oil it won't be fully absorbed. Add salt and pepper. Although that makes a nice mayonnaise, we didn't stop there. Instead, we added it to our bowl containing hearts of palm, avocados, grapefruit, and shrimp, stirring it all in together until we had the richest, most flavorful mayonnaise you've ever dipped your finger in. To raise the level of chic we'd already accomplished, we created moulds out of lacy cucumber and ended up with these beauties:And voila! Simple and classy. And did I mention delicious?