2 eggs yolks plop into a bowl and a whisk descends into the tender orbs.
Drop by drop, oil trickles into the mixture, creating waves of luscious mayonnaise.
A spoon is dragged through the middle to remove the first quivering scoop. Moses could have led the Isrealites through this stable emulsion as it parts like the Red Sea.
Only in my dreams.
Washington DC, circa 1977
Parliament Funkadelic is playing on the stereo as my friend Loredana and I meticulously primp in front of the mirror in her bedroom. This session has already gone on for 2 hours, and like all teenagers, we don’t know when to leave well enough alone. Domenico, her father, calls out to us that we are running late for the party already and that he will not drive us if we don’t put on our coats right this minute. We make a mad dash to the front door, but then turn to each other in horror. “Oh No! We forgot about the food… There’s nothing in the house. We’ll be named and shamed!”
Domenico, attaché to the Italian embassy, remains unflappable. He takes off his jacket, walks back into the kitchen and begins pulling ingredients out of the cupboard. I stare at this man in awe as he stomps out his cigarette and begins whisking eggs and oil together with an electric hand beater. This the first time I have ever seen a male head of the household cook, let alone make a homemade mayonnaise. For sure, my father flipped burgers on the grill and Hellmann’s was passed around the table at our cookouts, but this is entirely new territory … this is The Ultimate Cool. Without splattering a drop, he orders us to cut the crusts off the bread while he opens tins of the finest tuna and pulls out some lettuce. Within minutes, we have assembled a huge pyramid of tramezzini for the party and he ushers us back out the door.
Suave and debonair like Fred Astaire, Domenico made it look so easy. The first mayonnaise I ever made around 1985 came together perfectly. The second one remained separate, like Church and State, and I wasted two good bottles of oil trying to rectify it. In desperation, I called an excellent Italian cook that I know. She told me that mayonnaise can only be made if you are in a good mood and to certainly never attempt it if you have your period. That was the extent of her technical advice. Once bitten twice shy, I avoided this endeavour for decades to come.
Of course, recipes are now more detailed and there are plenty of YouTube videos to follow. The most intriguing ones show you how to make it with a handheld immersion blender. Just watching this gadget create a vortex of unctuous yellow goop makes me itch and want to give it one last go. One day I will, but in the meantime, I am passing on the three alternative sauces that I use on asparagus to cover up this gaping hole in my repertoire.
Asparagus with Sabayon
A useful recipe if you are following any kind of low-fat diet and still want to indulge in the seasonal white asparagus. I found it in Claudia Roden’s “The Food of Italy”.
Serves 4
1 Kg of white asparagus
Salt
4 egg yolks
150 ml (1/4 pint) dry white wine
Prepare and cook the asparagus.
To make the sauce, beat the egg yolks with the wine and a little salt and a heatproof bowl over a pan of boiling water and continue beating until the sauce is thick and smooth.
Tip: be careful to cook this just until it is really foamy. If cooked too long, sabayon collapses, defeating the whole purpose.
Serve at once with the asparagus.
White Asparagus with Savoury Whipped Cream
Recipe by David Tanis from his book Market Cooking
This is the first recipe that I have ever read that actually explains how to dry the asparagus on cloth towels. It is delicious, even if you do not have all the herbs. Make sure that the asparagus is truly cool when you serve it, otherwise the sauce has a tendency to melt.
1 cup heavy cream
Salt and pepper
Pinch of cayenne
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons finely sliced chives, plus more for garnish
2 teaspoons chopped chervil, plus more for garnish
2 teaspoons chopped tarragon, plus more for garnish
1 pound white asparagus
4 slices prosciutto (optional)
To make the savoury whipped cream, beat the cream in a bowl with a whisk or electric mixer only until it begins to thicken. It should remain quite loose. Season with the salt-and-pepper and the cayenne. Dilute the mustard with some of the cream in a small bowl, then fold the mustard mixture into the rest of the cream with a rubber spatula. Fold in the chives, chervil and chopped tarragon. (Notice that the cream will thicken with each addition, so be careful not to agitate it too much. You want it not quite pourable, but nearly.)
Cook the white asparagus, and spread out on a towel lined baking sheet to cool.
Sauce Gribiche
Recipe by Jessica Battilana from her book Repertoire
As of now, this is my favourite way to serve asparagus, both white and green, hot or cold. I have a tendency to forget how great French food can actually be, and Jessica’s sauce is also excellent on boiled potatoes, poached chicken, poached salmon and even cold cuts. I consider it the mother of all sauces, as it is indestructible.
Note: In her original recipe, she uses eight cornichon pickles. As they can vary so much in strength, I suggest using much less, and then ramping up to suit your taste. I use a Swiss brand called Hugo, and only use 2.
Serves 4
Approximately 1 kg (2lbs) of asparagus
2 large eggs, boiled and peeled
1 clove garlic, peeled
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons white wine vinegar or lemon juice
2 to 8 cornichon pickles
1 tablespoon capers
½ cup mild extra virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons finely chopped flat leaf parsley
2 tablespoons finely chopped chives
Salt to taste
A bit of black pepper
Prepare the asparagus.
If your garlic is particularly strong, halve it and drop it into boiling water for one minute then remove. This will take it down a notch.
Put the peeled eggs in the bowl of a food processor and add the garlic, mustard, white wine vinegar, cornichons and capers. Pulse until the eggs are coarsely chopped. With the food processor running drizzle in the olive oil and continue processing until the sauce is creamy. Transfer to a bowl and stir in the parsley, chives, salt-and-pepper.
Serve with the asparagus.
