Mayonnaise-Based Sauces
Growing up, there was nothing I hated more than mayonnaise. NOTHING.
The idea of putting mayonnaise on a sandwich repulsed me. It still does, actually. I mean: if it's a burger and there's mayonnaise on it, I'll overlook it because it blends with all the juices and the ketchup and the mustard and makes something of a sauce. But a turkey sandwich with JUST mayo? Blech! Nothing repulses me more.
I really don't have a good reason to give you. The best I can do is: plain mayo just tastes like whipped, flavorless synthetic fat. It wasn't until I made mayo by hand--with an egg yolk and oil--that I finally let go of my mayo-phobia and began to understand it for what it was. But even then, plain mayo from a jar still grosses me out. Unless you transform it by turning it into a sauce.
And that's what this post is about: turning mayo into a sauce. It's not very hard to do. For example, that plate at the top of this post? That's a chicken breast I roasted in the oven with salt and pepper and paprika served alongside some roasted asparagus with toasted bread crumbs. It would have been a nice dinner by itself, but it needed some zip. Enter mayo.
If I'd spooned out a big mound of mayo and placed it next to that chicken, I would've gagged it would've grossed me out so much. But instead, I put the mayo in the bowl, added whole grain mustard, Dijon mustard, some sour cream, salt, pepper and--this is wild!--a splash of the rose I was drinking, stirred it all around and--voila!--a sauce.
Let's give credit where credit is due: credit to the Barefoot Contessa. She makes many mayo-based sauces on her show, and usually I roll my eyes and scream, "Ina! That's gross! Make a sauce from scratch!" But now that I've made some mayo-based sauces, I have to acknowledge: it's a pretty clever thing to do.
Clever because most sauces are emulsifications of fat and egg yolk and when you use mayo, you don't have to do any emulsifying--the emulsifying is already done. So instead of melting butter and whisking egg yolk over a double boiler, gently adding the butter drip by drip hoping the sauce doesn't break, you have a yolky, flavorful base right in a jar. And the food purists among you may scoff, but not everyone has time to make a hollandaise or a bernaise. Some of us just want something sauce-like on the plate and we'll be happy.
Like when I made steak for some friends the other night:
Of course, I used the flawless technique from my Food2 video (this time using flank steak because it's cheaper). I roasted some sweet potato wedges (also form Ina) and then made a sauce using mayo, jarred horseradish (lots of it!), whole grain mustard, Dijon mustard, sour cream, salt and pepper. The horseradish really was a boon to this whole plate: the steak would've been good by itself, but with an easy horseradish sauce? It was out of this world.
I bet with mayo you can concoct a whole universe of easy sauces. I bet you could add chiles in adobo for something fiery and dangerous; you could add cornichons and capers for something like a Tartar sauce (which I did a few weeks ago when I made a fish sandwich). The possibilities are endless. Just don't put the mayo on bread with turkey and call it a sandwich: that's disgusting. Only when it's part of a sauce, is mayonnaise my friend.
When it comes to sauce-making, we all have a friend in mayo.
