Let’s Talk About Bread, Baby!
No, not bread as in money. Bread as in bread! You know, the good stuff. That crusty loaf of wonder that calls to you at three a.m. and tugs you from your warm bed into the kitchen. I may have a deep spiritual relationship with cheese, but I also have a an ongoing lusty affair with bread. I have always loved bread, even when I REALLY didn’t know much about it, meaning I thought there were two kinds: white and wheat. Then as I got older I discovered a whole world of bread and have made it my life’s mission to eat as many different varieties as I can…
Even as a child I was passionate about bread. I would go to my friends’ house and beg for a slice of their Wonder bread (we only ate wheat). I would marvel in its pillowy, white softness and how it was almost sweet. At home, I couldn’t wait for my parents to have an evening out. Why? So my sisters and I could eat my Dad’s bread. Oh yes, while we got wheat, he had his own personal stash of Sourdough. The minute we would hear the car pull out of the driveway, we would rush, en masse (there were four of us!), to the kitchen. Once there, my sister Judy, on her tip toes, would reach into the back of the top cabinet and pull out the sourdough. I swear that when it came out it was bathed in a golden light and I heard angels sing. She would put it on the counter and we would greedily fight to get our share. My sisters would eat it un-toasted with tons of butter and jam. They would devour their slices while still standing in the kitchen. I would toast mine and lovingly put just enough butter to make it glisten. Then I would take it into my bedroom, curl up on my bed and slowly eat it. I wanted to savor every moment.
Sourdough raids aside, it wasn’t until I got out on my own that I really started experiencing different types of bread. I was a manager at a bakery while in college, so I happily ate every bread we served. My first bread obsession was a Rosemary/Garlic Italian white. It was soft with roasted cloves of garlic and specked with rosemary. I think I must have eaten thirty loves of it in a matter of two months. Next I became obsessed with a sturdy whole wheat that had raisins and walnuts. I would bring it home from the bakery, toast it , slather it in butter and then apricot jam. Heaven. Then I couldn’t get enough Kalamata Olive bread. Huge Kalamata olives encased in a soft wheat center with a fantastically crunchy crust. This I would dip in olive oil, balsamic vinegar and Parmesan cheese. Then came the Ciabatta months, followed by the Sourdough roll weeks… I ate it all!
After the bakery, I continued my bread affair. I would drive 20 minutes just to get bread from La Brea Bakery in L.A. (before they were in every store). I went once a week and tried all their breads. I was fascinated by the artisanal quality (remember, this was back when artisanal was NOT a buzz word). I always had one of their sourdough baguettes in my house. I would eat it with all types of cheeses, but I would also cradle it in my arms and savagely tear off chunks, devouring the entire baguette in one sitting.
I even went through a phase where I was making my own bread! Yes, making it and without a bread machine. I loved the way the yeast was alive and the development of the gluten as I kneaded it. I made all types of breads: focaccia, pizza dough, whole wheat, black olive/cheddar, apricot/pecan, etc. I would give home-made loaves as gifts and would spend entire weekends baking. I once even tried to teach my sister how to make bread, but that didn’t go over too well. To me, making a loaf of bread was a transcendent thing. To her, it was just bread…
To this day, I am always looking to try a new bread. I love the mini baguettes. My new favorites are the multi-grain seeded variety and the cheddar jalapeno. Because they are “mini” I don’t feel so guilty when I find that I have eaten the entire thing in less than one day. For health reasons I try to stick to whole wheat/multi-grain varieties, but am known to sneak in a good Italian white every now and then. And yes, when I have an especially delicious bread in the house, I do awaken from sleep, stumble into the kitchen and eat a slice (or two!).
I’m With The Chef
If you follow my blog, you know I am married to a Chef. It is something I never would have thought would happen. After years of working in the restaurant business, I found Chefs to be self-absorbed, egotistical and just not very nice. In fact, I used to tell myself (and my friends) that I would NEVER date a Chef. Flash forward more than a few years and I found myself on my first date with a Chef that would eventually become my husband. What did I tell him on this first date? “I always said I would never date a Chef.” Yes, I said it and he STILL reminds me of it! But date him I did and as you know, went even further down the rabbit hole and married him. So, how has it been? Let me start off by saying I love my husband very much, but there are some “special” things about him being a Chef, to which I have had to become accustomed. What follows is a little peek into what it is REALLY like being married to a Chef…
Get used to doing all the cooking. Yes, you read that correctly, I do all the cooking. My husband cooks and creates fabulous dishes all day at the restaurant, the last thing he wants to do when he gets home is cook. So the meal preparation falls to me. Luckily, I love to cook and my husband enjoys my food. But most people have some fantasy that I am eating beautiful, five-star restaurant meals nightly. If I had a dollar for every time a fan of my husband said to me, “You are so lucky! You get to eat his food all the time,” I would be a very rich woman today. Fact is, the ONLY time I get to eat my husband’s food is when I go to his restaurant.
Say goodbye to traditional date nights. Why? Because Friday and Saturday nights are when everybody goes out to eat (they are enjoying a date night) and my husband has to be at the restaurant to cook food for all those lucky daters. So on Friday and Saturday nights I am usually at home, alone. Oh, we still have our date nights, but they are on non-traditional days, like a Monday. I normally don’t mind too much, but sometimes it would be nice to actually go out on a Friday night.
Get used to eating alone. I eat the majority of my meals solo because as a Chef, my husband works long hours that always go well past a traditional dinner time. So I had a choice, either eat dinner at eleven with him or eat it at a more civilized hour. When we were first married, I would wait to eat with him, but after too many midnight suppers, I had enough. Now I eat my dinner at a normal time, alone.
Rethink Holidays. Chefs work Holidays. My husband is in the restaurant on Thanksgiving, Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day, New Year’s Eve, Christmas Eve, etc. I discovered very early in our marriage that if I wanted to “celebrate” Holidays with my husband, I would have to rethink what they meant to me. So, we celebrate Thanksgiving either very late night or the next day. New Year’s Eve? We ring in the New Year together a couple of days later. Valentine’s Day? We go out to eat a few days later. What I learned, Holidays aren’t a day on the calendar, they are about being with the person you love.
Be prepared for the physical toll. Chefs get tired. They are standing all day cooking. They are lifting, chopping, stirring… So when their day off finally comes and you have planned a full day of dining out, running around and lots of activities, they don’t want to do any of it. What do they want? To lay on the couch, watch some television and nap. This was really hard for me. After spending most of a week alone, I really wanted to get out of the house with my husband and have some fun. Now we compromise, we spend one day relaxing at home and one day running around.
You must love food. This one was easy for me! Chefs are passionate about what they do and want to talk about it, a lot! Be prepared for endless discussions about the qualities of black garlic, the new spice in the potato dish and on and on. Be ready to read hundreds of “new” menus and to hear countless specials. For any really good Chef, cooking comes from the heart and soul, so they are immersed in food every minute of the day. Hence if you are married to a Chef, you will be immersed too.
Be ready for the fans. Today Celebrity Chefs are like rock stars. And just like rock stars, they have their fans. Most are harmless and it is fun to see people get so excited about my husband, the Chef. Then there are those that cross the line. You know the type: flirty and inappropriate. My husband wears a wedding ring and never makes any secret about being happily married, but that does not stop some women (sorry to say, yes it is women) from offering their number, their hotel room key (yes!) etc. I completely trust my husband and that trust is imperative when it comes to the aforementioned craziness. Also, when it comes to fans, be ready to be “the Chef’s wife”. I joke with my husband all the time that I should legally change my name to “the Chef’s wife”. Many times when we go out to eat people will recognize my husband and want to talk to him. That is when I become “the Chef’s wife”. Does it bother me? Sometimes, but not as much as it used to, now, mostly, I just get a kick out of it!
Yes, being married to a Chef has its obstacles, but doesn’t being married to any profession? As much as I didn’t want to marry a Chef, I also didn’t plan on meeting and falling in love with such an extraordinary man, who just happened to be a Chef. I guess that is it really, you marry a person, not a profession. So while being “the Chef’s wife” isn’t perfect, I wouldn’t trade it for the world because that ALSO means I am my husband’s wife and that is just ideal.
Help! I’m Stuck in a Food Rut & I Can’t Get Out!
My husband so kindly (note the sarcasm) pointed out to me the other day that I am stuck in a food rut. As annoyed as I was with him at the time, I must admit, he was right. I am stuck. Eating the EXACT same thing night after night. Desperately looking forward to every weekend so I can go out to eat and eat something different. This is no way for a “foodie” to live. Hell, it is no way for anyone but a contestant on Survivor to live. I need to make a change. Break out of this self-imposed food prison once and for all. So, how did I get here? And more importantly, how do I get out?
How I got here, really, is a common story to which, I am sure, many of you can relate. Life is how I got here. Complicated, busy, tiring life. After a long day at work, the last thing I am motivated to do is spend hours in the kitchen. Yes, I have seen Rachael Ray’s Week in a Day. So again, same song, different tune, the last thing I want to do on the weekend is spend an entire day in the kitchen cooking for the week. Besides, I am busy on the weekends… dining out, drinking wine, watching television and (gasp) relaxing. So, I am left with trying to find something I can make quickly (even when dead tired), that is healthy and palatable. Easier said than done. Furthermore, when I do find this magical dish, I tend to stick with it. I mean, if it’s not broken, why fix it, right? But, that, right there is how I got into this horrible food rut. A dish worked, so I stuck with it. For months now I have been eating the same thing for dinner (Monday-Friday) every night! Wow, when I see it written down, it is not only a little disturbing, but also makes me think that somebody out there might sign me up for the new episodes of the OCD Project. I know you are wondering what exactly I am eating. Well, it is something my husband has sarcastically named, “The Concoction.” Here it is. Three corn tortillas with onion, celery and mushrooms. Sprayed with Pam & microwaved for about a minute. Then topped with tomato, cheese and salsa. Microwaved another minute, topped with light sour cream, avocado, shredded romaine lettuce and LOTS of black pepper. Trust me, the sum is much more than the parts. Even my husband has begrudgingly admitted that it IS good. But five nights a week for over six months good? No. Like I said, I need help…
How do I get out? That is the real challenge here. Part of the issue is I am trying to eat healthfully. That in and of itself poses many limitations. Limits on salt, fat, sugar white starch, etc. That is why if I find something that is easy to prepare, healthy and I actually like eating it, I stick. Or should I say, I get stuck. I rotate about every six months (yes, I said months, close your mouths) or so. But really, I only have about three dishes in the rotation. I just keep eating them mid-week and dream about the weekends when I can break free and go out. I really wish there was a system similar to Life Alert, but for food ruts. A button that I could push that would summon a Chef. Of course he would be handsome AND cook only healthy delicious food. But since there is no Food Rut Alert system, I am going to have to figure out another way to break free. Yes, I know what you are thinking, “Isn’t she married to a Chef?” Yes. But the last thing he wants to do on his days off is cook. And the food he wants to bring me home from the restaurant, while to die for, is high in fat, calories, etc.
That leaves me right where I started. In a food rut. But after writing this, I am even more determined to break out and start adding some variety to my diet. I will keep you all posted. But lucky for me it is Friday, so tonight it is an Italian dinner out with a good bottle of Zinfandel and too much garlic bread. Happy weekend all!
A Single Girl’s Dinner
So, my husband is out of town and will be for a few days. I do miss him, but am enjoying living the “single” life again. No, I am not going out to clubs, getting drunk and picking up men. I am taking long hot baths, playing lots of online Boggle, catching up on my gossip magazines and tweezing my eyebrows in the living room (better light). Before he left, he said, “Make sure you eat!” I laughed at him, but now, I understand why he said it, one eats strange things when they live alone…
These strange eating habits are not new to me. I was single for a LONG time. But somehow, I thought being married had “broken” me of these habits. I was wrong. Scary how quickly we can revert to old, comfortable ways. When I had my first apartment (with no roommates) I NEVER cooked. I lived on Lean Cuisines, alcohol, cigarettes and Del Taco (always at 3 in the morning). Looking back it is a wonder I didn’t develop scurvy. Wait! Must have been the grapefruit juice in all the Greyhounds I drank that saved me. At this point in my life I would order Bloody Mary’s because I thought the vegetables that came with it were like a meal! As I got older, I didn’t get much wiser. I was always working in restaurants and would live on pilfered bread which I would dip into salad dressing, olive oil or spicy mayonnaise (REALLY good! Just mix hot sauce into mayo until it is pink). Occasionally I would go to a salad bar… But I still used my stove as storage and had nothing but beer, vodka and every condiment known to man in my refrigerator. I wasn’t alone in this behavior. My girlfriends were the same way. We loved to play the game, “What I ate for dinner”. My friend Adelaide’s go to dinner was an entire sleeve of saltine crackers, each lovingly slathered with mayonnaise. My friend Nicole would stand at her kitchen counter and eat 1/2 pound of cheddar cheese. If I didn’t pick up a Lean Cuisine (can’t even LOOK at these now) I would dip Snyder’s pretzels in mustard & light sour cream. Remember the Lean Cuisine spots where the woman talked about the horrible dinners they ate? Loved that spot, because it was so true. True story, during the L.A. riots, when all the markets were closed, I was forced to live on VERY stale corn tortillas, cream cheese and Del Taco hot sauce for three days. Still, it didn’t change my habits.
I FINALLY broke out of this a few years back and actually, gasp, starting grocery shopping. I realized how nice it was to come home and have something besides fast food ketchup packets, pretzels and canned green beans in the house. You know, real food. So I was rather shocked when I first started dating my husband and opened his refrigerator. A half-eaten can of salmon with a fork in it and a jar of whitefish was all that was there. I told him, “Go shopping!” He did, but I was comforted that single eating habits applied to men as well…
So, here we are, present day and I am alone in a house full of food. Lots of fresh vegetables, cheeses, salsa, fruit, bread, etc. And, when my husband is home I cook! Every night. But he is gone and what do I choose to eat? The first night I had a handful of baked tortilla chips, four strawberries and some chocolate chips. I did drink too many light beers and played Boggle to the wee hours of the morning. Last night I ate some almonds, a whole wheat tortilla with mayonnaise on it (it was delicious!) and some shredded mozzarella cheese straight from the package, standing in front of the fridge. Wow.
So now I face another “single” dinner tonight and would like to think that I can have a proper meal. I am planning on making myself a big salad, but deep down I know I will probably opt for a grab and nibble approach to dinner. Why do we do this? What compels us? I don’t have the answer… I DO know that my husband is eating VERY well on his trip. He has gone out for breakfast, lunch and dinner everyday and has eaten salads, fish and other disgustingly normal things.
I am going to be honest. I am not going to go home and make a salad or anything else. I am planning on chips and salsa. Beck’s Light (Try it! Really great & only 64 calories) and more Boggle. I guess I don’t need to understand why I do this… I just do. And secretly, I enjoy it. Like I enjoy driving too fast, scary movies and the Jersey Shore. I feel like I am being bad. And sometimes, nothing feels better than being bad. One more thing, I will put lime in my beer, so I AM getting vitamin C.
Food Network’s Chef Hunter- The Stuff of Nightmares
I am addicted to yet another show! And of course it is about food: Chef Hunter, airing Thursdays on the Food Network. Even though I have a sneaking suspicion that many of the restaurants are involved with the show solely for the marketing opportunity and that many of the people involved are “playing” to the camera, it is still the most realistic look at how restaurants run to date. Realistic in a way that brings back all the really stressful bad memories of the years I spent working in restaurants. Don’t get me wrong, there were good times too, but unless you have worked through a VERY busy dinner shift at a popular restaurant, you really have no idea how stressful trying to serve food to non-starving people can be… Unless you watch Chef Hunter.
The premise is simple really. A restaurant needs a new Executive Chef, so a head hunter brings in two candidates to compete for the job. Each Chef is given a night to plan a menu and run said restaurant. At the end of the show, one of the Chefs gets the job. What could be stressful about that, you may ask? EVERYTHING! First of all are these poor Chefs. Most of them seem legitimately talented and really want AND need the job. But remember, they are coming into established restaurants that already have popular menus. For example, Border Grill was featured on an episode and the Two Hot Tamales basically said, “We want a chef that can cook our food.” What’s the big deal? Well, most highly trained chefs want to cook and create their own food. Not follow a recipe. Which is why I find it strange that part of the audition is always for the chefs to create and cook their own menu. Why? If they are all simply tasked with properly following a recipe, then wouldn’t that be a better test? But, I digress. Secondly, are the managers and corporate chefs. I have worked with guys like I see on chef hunter. I am sure you all have too. You know, yelling, degrading, sarcastic and generally just VERY nasty. It saddens me to see so many very popular restaurants ran by such shitty managers. Thirdly, the staff. Both back of house and front of house. The line cooks have to take direction and learn the trial chef’s new menu. Sometime the chef IS a jerk, but many times the line cooks are less than enthusiastic. Then you have the food runners and servers yelling at the chef for food, then going back to tables and explaining why a cold ceviche dish is taking 30 minutes to come out.
So, you may be asking yourself, after reading the last paragraph why I watch the show at all? Why not save myself from PTRD (Post Traumatic Restaurant Disorder) and change the channel? Because I can’t. LOL! It is the proverbial train wreck. You are horrified, yet can’t look away. Last week the Corporate Chef of Merriman’s in Hawaii, screamed at both chefs, was sarcastic to both and put down both of their menus. Think he didn’t hire either? Think again! That is what is so crazy. If both chefs performed so poorly that you felt the need to be abusive, then why hire either? My husband and I both said, “Poor guy.” Not about the loser, but about the chef that was hired! I mean, whom would want to work for people like this? It does make for good television, though.
Is it good that the general public, most of whom have not worked in the restaurant business, to see this? Yes and no. Yes, because maybe it will give guests at restaurants a new respect about what it REALLY takes to deliver that perfect dish to your table in a timely manner. And no, because of the very same reasoning for yes. It dispels the “magic” of a night out at a restaurant and maybe makes it too real.
I will continue watching Chef Hunter and continue reliving every stressful moment from my restaurant career… Besides, as harsh as the reality can sometimes be, at least it is reality (or so it is edited so we believe so!). Unlike so many others before and currently. Remember The Restaurant with Rocco Di Spirito? What a contrived mess that was! Or Hell’s Kitchen? Anyone who has watched Chef Ramsay on Kitchen Nightmares KNOWS that his persona on Hell’s Kitchen is strictly an acting job.
So, thank you Food Network, for at least ATTEMPTING to create a show that tackles the stress of running a restaurant.
For Every Superwoman There Is Kryptonite
This for all you Superwomen out there. You know who you are, you work, clean, take care of yourself, shop. cook , are loving parents (to children and/or pets), attentive wives/girlfriends and the list goes on. I know. Because I am in your ranks. And like the rest of you, I like to believe that I am invincible, with endless energy and that NOTHING can slow me down, much less stop me. But, inevitably, we all are, in the end, alas, human. We all have that one thing that can stop us cold and put a real damper on all our superpowers. For me, it is an ulcer. I have suffered with it for 14 years now and it never ceases to amaze me how when I am in “episode” I am pretty much useless. And you Superwomen know how frustrating that is! We don’t get sick! We nurse the ill. We don’t get tired! We are highly functioning on three hours of sleep. Most importantly, we are infallible! Nothing slows us down… Or so we like to think. But we all have our Kryptonite. For me, it is an ulcer.
This latest ulcer episode started the way the all do, at three a.m. in the morning. I woke up in a fetal position, drenched in sweat and REALLY hurting. People always ask me what the ulcer feels like, it feels like there is a live rat trying to gnaw its way out of my stomach. So I crawled to the bathroom & took a handful of medication. It is now at a dull roar, but this episode, like most of mine, will last about a week. During that time I feel anything but “super”. I am exhausted from the pain. Trying to eat or drink ANYTHING is extremely difficult. Which for a food obsessed person such as myself, is a situation akin to purgatory. And, you may want to sit down for this, I can’t drink wine! Sob! It is like pouring battery acid in my stomach. So, here I am, hurting, basically useless, extremely sober and depressed. But you Superwomen out there know what I am thinking about. ALL the things I SHOULD be getting done. Deadlines at work. Cleaning the house. And on and on and on… Why do we do this to ourselves?
It is a question that comes to my mind quite often. Being married, I have become a keen observer of the male species. And let me tell you, they feel no guilt when they are sick or hurting. Exactly the opposite in fact. They will lay on the couch and moan as we Superwomen, in addition to everything else we are already doing, bring them drinks, food, blankets and comfort. Hell, we do this for THEM even when we are sick too. Which ironically, is the REAL sickness. What is the compulsion? Have we been brainwashed by the media, our mothers and ourselves that if we are not “perfect”, then we are not worthy of love? That if we allow ourselves to relax, let the house go for a day, take time just for us, that we will be unlovable? Men relax. Men take “personal” time. They go for motorcycle rides, to the bar with buddies and nap in the easy chair on a Sunday afternoon. And they like themselves. This HAS to stop!
My Kryptonite is my ulcer. What is yours? Perhaps it is the bad boyfriend/husband. The guy that you think if you just love him enough, he will magically change and give you the love you deserve. Let me tell you from experience, that is not going to happen. I know. I spent a large majority of time in my twenties with these men. And then thank God, I came to my senses. If a man does not (from the first moment you meet) treat you with kindness, respect, generosity and admiration, then dump his sorry ass! A lousy man is Kryptonite that is easy to lose. But if your Kryptonite is like mine, an issue which you have only a modicum of control over, then it gets a lot harder. Superwomen are good at “ignoring” pain. We smile through excruciating menstrual cramps, glide through business meetings in pumps that are killing our feet and patiently listen to our husband’s tell us (for the fourth time) about the jerk at work while suffering with a raging migraine. That is why when we do experience pain that stops us cold, it is so damn frustrating. What? We don’t let pain stop us! But it does and it should. It is our body’s way of saying to us, “Slow down. Take care of yourself. Or else…” It is the “or else” that FINALLY gets me to take a minute.
So, what are we Superwomen going to do? I have a radical proposal. Stop being so damn Super! I know, it is going to be hard, but it must be done. We, as women, need to know our worth. We are lovable and worthy of attention and care solely because we ARE, not because we are trying to imitate the woman in the Enjoli TV commercial. You know the one, sing it with me sisters, “I can bring home the bacon. Fry it up in a pan. And never let you forget you’re a man. Because I’m a woman.” So, stop doing everything. When you are sick, rest. And let your husband/boyfriend take care of you. Trust me, unless he is the aforementioned ass that you already dumped, MOST men WANT to help. If you are in pain, tell someone. Let them help you. Take me time (and no the gym doesn’t count). Take a hot bath, get a manicure with a friend, go out to lunch, anything that makes you (and nobody else) happy. If we love and respect ourselves, so will those around us.
I have to admit. Letting go of some of that “Super” has made me feel better. The ulcer I can’t help, but my behavior I can… Now if you will excuse me, I am going to go slip into a hot bath and let my husband bring me a beer. Yes, a beer. For some reason it is one of the few things I can put in my tender stomach that not only doesn’t hurt it, but also makes it feel better. Cheers!
Mayonnaise on My Mind
So last night, hubby and I got into an hour long discussion about mayonnaise. Seems hard to believe, I know, but when you are a household of two food obsessed people, it is fairly easy. We once waxed poetic about roasted garlic for two days. It all started as I was fixing a snack in the kitchen and hubby was leaning over the counter to watch, as he always does. Just as an aside, hubby is a bit of a vicarious eater. My snack was slices of Swiss cheese on good Jewish rye with heirloom tomato slices and, you guessed it, mayonnaise. As I was making my snack, hubby came around the counter and started dipping celery stalks into the mayonnaise jar. That was when I said, “I REALLY love mayonnaise!” He answered, “Hmm. Garble. Garble.”, while nodding his head (his mouth was full of mayonnaise covered celery at the time). I then upped the mayonnaise ante by getting some leftover roasted red bliss potatoes I had made the night before. I roasted them with olive oil, thyme, garlic, salt & pepper. They were very good. I then took the roasted potato quarters and slathered them with mayonnaise. Let me stop here and just tell you if you ever get a chance to try this, do. It is completely decadent and is akin to an over the top potato salad. We oohed and aahed as we ate the potatoes. And again I said, “Mayonnaise is so good!” We then went on to discuss store-bought brands, home-made aiolis and even Miracle Whip. We also talked about how some people (gasp!) don’t like mayonnaise?! This got me thinking about my long love affair with mayonnaise…
It all started when I was a child. I grew up in a mayonnaise home. I say that because many of my friends had Miracle Whip, which at the time made me jealous because they could eat it and I couldn’t. Why? My Mother looked down on Miracle whip. She saw it as mayonnaise’s red-haired step child. And if I asked for it while we were shopping, she would say, with a very haughty tone, “We don’t eat THAT.” End of discussion. So mayonnaise it was. And it was on EVERYTHING. I now think it was my Mother’s little helper. She put it in vegetables, casseroles, we topped our salads with it (I didn’t even know there was such a thing as salad dressing until I was seven & my Mom brought home Good Seasons Italian with the shaker cruet), put it on ALL sandwiches and even put it on our pizza. Yes, pizza. I didn’t know other people didn’t do this until I went to a pizza party and asked for the mayonnaise. The cries of “gross” and “weird” from my friends kept me from ever making that mistake again! But I still do like mayonnaise on my pizza when in the privacy of my own home. So, as a child I was raised on mayonnaise.
As a teen I started dieting and deemed mayonnaise off-limits. Which of course, only made me want it more. I tried to substitute those awful fat-free and light mayos, but lets face it, they don’t cut it. The fat-free is simply awful. It is more science experiment than food. And the low-fat, while slightly better has to me an odd aftertaste. The irony? I discovered Miracle Whip has less fat than mayonnaise and started eating that! Though the slightly sweet flavor, like it had sweet pickle relish juice added to it, always disturbed me. But at the time, it was better than the alternatives.
After years of avoiding ‘real” mayonnaise at all costs, I finally came back. I was in my twenties and working at a fine dining restaurant. One day the Chef came out with the nights special. It had this wonderful magical sauce with it. Creamy, garlic flavored and absolutely fabulous. So I ran to him and asked, “What is that sauce?” “Garlic aioli,” he replied. Remember, I was just starting my culinary education at this point and waited to get home to look up aioli. Much to my surprise, it was mayonnaise! That did it. I went the next day and bought a jar of real mayonnaise and have had one in my fridge ever since. The crazy part, to me at least, was I didn’t balloon up to 300 pounds as I had imagined. My weight didn’t change one bit. But my meals sure did improve! No longer was potato salad, deviled eggs and cole slaw off-limits! I could once again get mayonnaise on my sandwiches. And if a dish mentioned aioli on a menu, I ordered it.
Now, here I am, older and still my love affair with mayonnaise continues. I can’t imagine a life without mayonnaise, garlic aioli, creamy mayonnaise based salad dressings, etc. Sounds dramatic, I know. But, as they say (whoever “they” are) it is the little things in life. I also know that if my husband weren’t as passionate about mayonnaise as I am, we would have an issue. I mean really, how do you trust a man who doesn’t love mayonnaise?
I will leave you with a couple of things… About ten years ago, my sister’s boyfriend at the time, hated mayonnaise. I, of course, started arguing with him about all the wondrous things mayonnaise could do.. He then told me about a late night infomercial he saw for a hand-held mixer. They made mayonnaise and it was four cups of oil and an egg. That’s it. After recounting this he asked, “So now what do you think about mayonnaise?” I smiled and told him, “It is the oil that makes it good!” I did think to myself at the time, that they could have really improved the flavor with just a little lemon. Or even made a garlic aioli by adding some garlic. But I didn’t tell him. What was the point? He obviously didn’t understand mayonnaise!
Here is my P.S. A great recipe using mayonnaise that is perfect for entertaining. They are called onion puffs and trust me, they are to die for…
Finely grate one medium sweet or white onion
Add to the onion, 2 cups of mayonnaise and 1 cup of Parmesan cheese
Place mixture in fridge covered
Using a small (about 1 inch diameter) biscuit cutter, cut rounds from a loaf of cheap white bread. Just no crusts.
Toast the rounds on a baking sheet until lightly browned on both sides.
Using a small spoon or a pastry bag, top toasted rounds with a mound of the mixture. This can be done a head of time and kept in the fridge.
IMMMEDIATELY before serving, place topped rounds under broiler. Mixture will puff up and get slightly tan. Remove and serve right away.
These are so good with champagne and trust me, your guests will never guess the magic ingredient mayonnaise!
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