Andrea Reusing's Cooking in the Moment

I have disliked mayonnaise for as long as I can remember. It's even possible I was born hating it. My whole life I've recoiled from its wobbly texture, its eggy aroma, its mysterious ability to turn the simplest sandwich into a mess of goo. Oooh, just thinking about it is making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Yuck, people. Yuck. I literally just shivered.

As I grew older and got over a lot of the dislikes of my childhood (Brussels sprouts, mustard, parsley and oysters, all of which I adore fiercely now), mayonnaise remained the lone cowboy on the deserted plain of my food phobias. I even found a way to like cilantro, which for so long had reminded me of soap, at best, and rat poison, at worst. But mayonnaise would not budge.

The frustrating thing was that so many people whose taste in food I adore and revere seemed to love the stuff. Layered in tomato sandwiches, dolloped on top of a hard-boiled egg, set out for dragging a piece of cold cooked crab through; why, mayonnaise, when written about like that, did seem like it could be manna from heaven. Why, then, did it repulse me so?

A few years ago, when I was still editing cookbooks at the publishing house I used to work at, we got a proposal in from a woman named Andrea Reusing, the chef and owner of a restaurant called Lantern in Chapel Hill, North Carolina. The restaurant specialized in a fusion of Asian cooking with local ingredients and there was a substantial amount of buzz surrounding the project. We were very interested in buying the book, but ultimately lost out to a publisher who bid more money than we did. It's frustrating when it happens, but it's part of the publishing life. I put the book out of my mind and got back to work.

A few months ago, that publisher sent me a copy of the book. As I flipped through the pages, I felt a small stab of disappointment. Despite the stunning photography (by a master, John Kernick) and what looked like good food, the design felt a little soulless to me. All those lower-case chapter and recipe titles and color blocks. (This is the curse of the cookbook editor; it's like being a film editor, you can never again look at another movie without thinking of what's happening just outside the frame.) I thought of all the ways "our" designers would have made the book sing and then I put the book on my coffee table and forgot about it.

But last week, I picked it up again for bedtime reading. I live alone for five days a week now, and the only time someone's around to get me to turn the light off so he can go to bed already is on the weekend. I slid into bed with the book in my hands, turned to the first page and started to read. And before I knew it, an hour had passed.

I read the book from cover to cover that night, falling in love with the world that Andrea writes about. She may be the chef of a high-end restaurant, but this book feels deeply, deeply personal. There are no complicated, cheffy dishes between the covers here. The recipes are easy and approachable, but the flavors that Andrea combines feel wonderfully fresh and new. I know you think you've heard this before, but, here, let me give you a few examples and you'll see what I mean.

She puts soy sauce on asparagus, cardamom on spinach and sorghum on sweet potatoes. She blends dried elderflowers into freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, coats fried chicken in rye breadcrumbs and banishes the tired old carrot-ginger soup once and for all with her carrot soup made with toasted curry and pistachios. There are pickled sour cherries and hot tomato relishes and salt-marinated cucumbers alongside pot roast and grilled mackerel and rice grits. I stopped marking which pages I wanted to cook from because, frankly, there were too many.

But aside from the recipes, the book is a beautifully written ode to the bounty, diversity and history of North Carolina small-scale farmers and Southern foodways. Essays about her favorite fish market in Carrboro, for example, or the man who supplies her restaurant with a wide array of mushrooms from his home garden or the couple who run the Chapel Hill Creamery, making a mozzarella so delicate it "barely holds together until dinner", enrich the book immeasurably and cast a spell on the reader, making you long for a life in a region that is rediscovering its agrarian roots so thoroughly that it's become second-nature for greenmarkets to offer not just heirloom tomatoes (Pruden's Purple, Hillbilly Flame, Arkansas Traveler!) and apples (Dula Beauty, Striped July, Bald Mountain!) but squash (Jumbo Pink Banana, Jarrahdale, Old Timey Pie Pumpkin!), melons (Emerald Gem, Pride of Wisconsin, Sugar Baby!) and sweet potates, too (O'Henry, Beauregard, Covington!).

Reading Cooking in the Moment made me want to start planting my own vegetables, made me mourn how far behind Germany is in all ways to the American local food movement and made me want to get into the kitchen all at once.

And (did you wonder if I was ever going to get back to the mayo?) it made me fall hook, line and sinker for homemade garlic-anchovy mayonnaise, which I whipped up in two minutes and have proceeded to eat every day since.

Every.

Day.

Since.

Me.

Mayonnaise.

Case closed.

All you need, says Andrea, is a jar and an immersion blender. Which charms me, lazy bones that I am. You just buzz egg yolks with salt, an anchovy fillet, some minced garlic and a squeeze of lemon juice in the jar with the immersion blender before slowly drizzling in neutral-flavored oil and a bit of olive oil for flavor until you've got a few inches of creamy, palest yellow mayonnaise and your five-year-old self's mind is blown at the prospect that you are about to put this stuff in your mouth and eagerly at that.

Creamy, savory, garlic-anchovy mayonnaise, it turns out, tastes fabulous with cold roast chicken. So fabulous I ate it for lunch two days in a row. Then, when the chicken was gone, I made myself - finally! at 33! - the iconic tomato sandwich with white bread, sliced tomatoes, a healthy sprinkling of salt and more of that mayo. It was, indeed, as delicious as everyone says. The anchovy, in case you're wondering, disappears entirely into the mayo, leaving behind not a trace of fishiness. I promise. Cross my heart.

Now I'm almost down to the bottom of the bowl and I'm frantically trying to come up with reasons why I shouldn't make another batch. So far, they're all terrible.

Cooking in the Moment is incredibly inspiring, not just in terms of cooking but also in terms of its spirit. Andrea's reverence for the people growing the food she serves to her customers and to her family is infectious. It will make you want to mail-order chickens from a Kansas chicken farmer, gather your children around to help churn fresh ice cream out of fresh strawberries, buttermilk and cream (and then watch them eat it directly out of the churn) and then book a flight to Chapel Hill so you, too, can be fed by the woman who makes Indian lime pickle with citrus from Plaquemines Parish and serves it with a chickpea purée.

Andrea is that rare breed of chef whose talent for lyrical writing is as developed as her pitch-perfect taste for food and her ability to seize everyday moments and find the divine within them. Her soulful, richly textured book is a gift, for readers, for cooks and for everyone in between.

Garlic-Anchovy Mayonnaise
Makes about 1/2 cup

1 egg yolk
Salt
1 garlic clove, minced
1 anchovy fillet
1/4 lemon
1/3 to 1/2 cup of neutral vegetable oil
2 to 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1. Put the yolk in a wide-mouth jar and pulse for about 30 seconds with an immersion blender. Add a good pinch of salt, as much minced garlic as you'd like (I used about half a clove, which made for a pretty mild mayo), the anchovy and a big squeeze of lemon juice. Pulse again. While pulsing, slowly drizzle in the oil until the mixture is emulsified and creamy. Taste for salt and thin with a little water if necessary.

Comments

[Kathryn]

French fries dipped in mayonnaise is one of the great wonders of the food world and I bet this mayonnaise would be awesome for that.

[Katherine Niall]

Oh my God! I agree[d] with you completely on mayonnaise. Yuck! When I was a kid, I would gag if I had to clear the mayo bowl from the table. I'm not sure i could make myself try it, even after a fellow-traveler recants and joins the mayo-eating crowds.

Thanks for the blog.

[Sarah]

Yay, a mayonnaise convert! Homemade is the best. You have made me so excited to check out Andrea's book!

[jenny]

beautiful review, luisa. as an editor myself, I definitely relate to the curse of rarely being able to enjoy a book just as, well, a book. I'm always reshaping sentences, restructuring narratives ... oh, it's bad. of course, every once-in-a-while you find that gem of a tome that allows you simply to lose yourself in it. sounds like this cookbook has that kind of magic. I look forward to checking it out ... although it's hard to imagine that it possesses enough magic to make one a mayo convert. I'd like to follow in your footsteps, but mayo and I don't really get along ...

[Victoria]

I have NEVER gotten a bad tip from you so I immediately clicked on your link and ordered this book for myself.

For eight years I lived in Atlanta, and for the five years immediately after, I lived in Virginia, and during that time, I developed a love for the foods of the South. I have poured over articles and books by Julia Reed and imagined myself eating fried chicken from a grocery store in the Mississippi Delta or a stuffed tomato at the Belle Meade Country Club.

I am crazy about the idea that the Raleigh/Durham area of North Carolina - which I have driven through many times on I-85 - has converted from a tobacco-growing region to a food-focused place. What a thrilling development.

[tanja (iheartmyfood)]

this is a wonderful, wonderful post ! i need to get my hands on this book - i trust it won't matter too much that our seasons are topsy turvy !

it's funny, the list of things i couldn't stand as a child was EXACTLY the same, except ! for the mayonnaise. In its place was ginger, and, like you, i now "fiercely adore" all !

[Hal]

And she won Best Chef: Southeast at last night's James Beard Awards ceremony!

[Jess]

I have just one thing to say about this, and I think you might know what it is: An anchovy?! In mayonnaise?! That is BRILLIANT.

[stacey snacks]

Welcome aboard the mayonnaise train! I couldn't live without it (or cilantro!).
Stacey Snacks

[Angie]

I'm still not a fan of mayonnaise... Homemade or other wise... blech! But there is a ton of slow food chapters in europe (it started in italy) - maybe this will help you find one around you.
http://www.slowfood.com/international/1/about-us

[Sweetoothed]

I'm wondering how you fixed the cilantro thing because try as I might, I cannot stand it still.

I was a long time mayo hater too (my dad at nearly 50 can't go near it, and that may have been why). But after making home-made for the first time in culinary school I was a changed woman.

Can I ship you some Duke's? After I moved to Atlanta I found it a reasonable substitute for the real stuff without the blah of other jarred mayos.

Best,
Meghan

[the twice bitten]

Ive just got into making my own mayo in the last few months.
NO. LOOKING. BACK.
I did a post using smoked haddock croquettes and tartare sauce not too long ago.

[Tova]

I can literally feel your enthusiasm for this book. So much so, that I've just purchased a copy for myself. Thanks for the beautiful post!

[Luisa]

Victoria - you will love this book, I just know it. It's so gorgeous and yes, soulful. And if you know the area, even better!

Hal - yes! Thrilling!

Jess - Right? :)

Angie - Slow Food is a great organization, but that's not really what I'm talking about. The US has really blazed an incredible trail in recent years when it comes to locavorism, sustainability in agriculture and a deep interest in reviving heirlooms breeds of animals, fruits and vegetables. People from all walks of life are interested in where their food comes from, in finding interesting strains, old-fashioned flavors in their fruits and vegetables, etc. Small-scale farming is having a big renaissance and CSA's flourish all over the country, not to mention green markets that sell exclusively locally grown produce. The food system here is in the Dark Ages, comparatively speaking.

Meghan - it was on a trip to Mexico, actually! I had some incredible tacos in the middle of nowhere on a dirt road and then a homey meal cooked by some local folk at a cooking school one day and suddenly cilantro just made "sense" to me. It worked, I got it. You know? I don't like to nosh on it, it's true, but sprinkled into a taco or on Indian food, I enjoy it. As for Duke's - that would be lovely! Let's do a swap, tell me what you want from Germany (plum jam? marzipan? gummi candy?)!

[melissa]

Um....wow. I am filled to the brim with the enthusiasm and passion that just jumped off the page of this post! I LOVE IT! I've been following your blog for a while and I don't know why I've never felt compelled to comment until now, but I really just wanted to thank you for sharing your passion about food. Thank you from another passionate food eater/cook.

[Molly]

The idea of mayo has always fascinated me. I mean, gosh, SOMEONE had to come up with that, the egg separation, the emulsifying... But mayo itself is kind of gross, except in the form of aioli, which is the perfect foil to any sort of potato. Anchovies, however, are manna from heaven, a gift from the flavor gods. Homemade aioli, with heavenly anchovies? Myohmy, that just sounds out of this world.

[Meister @ The Nervous Cook]

Okay, you just convinced me to reevaluate my own disdain for mayonaise. There's got to be something to it if people are so noodles for the stuff, and I respect your taste buds so much that I know I have to listen to your gut for a second instead of mine.

Sigh… if this sends me into a mayo tailspin I don't know what I'll do with myself!

[Hande]

So happy you are a convert now, too! You know you can use the whole egg and don't have to drizzle the oil, right? You can start out with 1 egg/250ml oil - as long as everything has the same (room) temperature, it will not break, promise!
Step 2 for your mayo craze: momofukus coffee siriracha mayo. I go crazy for that. hideously good with cold cuts on that sandwich.

[Suzy]

3 letters and one word for you B. L. T. and Mayonnaise - a lot of it. Oh man, if I could eat that with no consequences to the muffin top, I would, believe you me.
Oh and best bacon in the world, remind me to buy you a pack when I go to London, can't remember the name of it. Unbelievable, never any weird white stuff coming out.

[Petra]

my wrist thanks you for posting this.
what a brilliant idea!!!

[Jaimie]

I live in Raleigh, so now I want to check out that Chapel-Hill restaurant! It's true, I love this area for fresh, local, heirloom foods. The State Farmer's Market is my destination for EVERYTHING. :D

[Katie]

I recently had an excellent meal at a restaurant in Point Reyes Station, Califorina (Osteria Stellina) involving mayonnaise (or, aioli as they referred to it on the menu...same thing, I think?). I'd like to recreate it at home--and will use your version. It was simple: seared tuna, boiled fingerling potatoes cut into rounds, shaved fresh fennel...on a bed of aioli. Their aioli/mayonnaise was on the thin side, so it was almost like a sauce.
And yeah, I hated mayonnaise for years because I associated it with over-dressed potato salads...blech.

[Jesse]

as an avid mayo hater, i must try this to see if i can be converted too.

[Sense of Home Kitchen]

The book will be on my wish list, now that I am resisting buying any new cookbooks for a while anyway. Sounds wonderful. I love mayonnaise by the way, but her version sounds good too.

~Brenda

[Sharmila]

Ooh, a hithterto mayonnaise skeptic just figured out the answer to the mayo life, universe and everything is *drrrumrolll* flavoured mayo. How perfectly scrumptious! Now you can try olives in your mayo or capers, or (may be after some time has passed?) fresh cilantro too. Yay!
I adored mayo as a child and the adoration became reverence when I made my own in my teens. Food and science, all in one. My inner geek couldn't stop yammering about the gorgeousness of emulsions. I will never forget how it tasted.
Crisp lettuce, cracking bacon and a ripe sliced tomato between generously mayonnaise smothered slices of sourdough bread. One of the perfect-heavenly-meals on my list.

[Christina @butimhungry]

I recently discovered the glories of homemade mayonnaise, made with an immersion blender. Where had it been all my life?! I didn't think it could get much better... until I saw this. I can imagine adding the anchovy and garlic puts it over the edge! So excited to try this!

[amelia]

you're funny. I too am a convert. this book looks great and the mayo DIVINE. ;)

p.s. thanks for the vote!!

[Laura Giovanelli]

Dear Luisa,
I love North Carolina (where I live), Lantern (as a former restaurant critic, there are few places I'd return to again and again - this is one. Sad that now I am a poor grad student), and Andrea's book. Your post made me blush with pride about all three. Thank you!
Laura

[Laura Giovanelli]

And homemade mayo, too, I forgot that, especially shot through with Sriracha, alongside that fried catfish Andrea's book has a recipe for! Though Duke's is an excellent Southern brand. Kicks Hellman's butt.

[Gordon]

I am forty-nine and I don't think I was born hating mayonnaise, I know I was born hating it. I, too, don't know why but the stuff gives me the creeps. I am known for not liking the stuff. It is virtually the only thing that I will not eat.

I actually have a mayonnaise story.

When I was bar-tending in college, eons ago, I destroyed the walk-in cooler of a nice hotel in Florida. On a busy night, I happen to run out of cut lemons for garnish. I was worried about horrible drunk customers from a northern east coast state, finding a decent knife to cut the lemons, not slipping and falling, etc. I assembeled everything I needed to prepare the lemons. I was in a hurry, but I didn't have the damn lemons. So I ran in to the main kitchen of this hotel. These people didn't know me. They were very busy, rude and didn't seem to want to give up there lemons. A kind waiter showed me to the walk-in cooler. Well, the thing was huge and slippery and loud from the fans. As I made my way down the main isle I found the lemons. At last! I began wrestling the box of lemons from the over head shelf. The other cold products wedged the box tight. The pulling and pulling loosened a large hotel pan of suckling pigs set to brine. The pan, pigs and brine slapped and splashed the side of my head and face drenching me instantly in this cold mess. I was so shocked and horrified, I tried to get away as quickly as I could. In doing so, I slipped to my knees and in while trying to recover my balance, I plunged my hand, arm and part of my shoulder in to one of those five gallon buckets of mayonnaise. Which, of course, caused projectile vomiting. Loud vomiting. Four about five second I closed my eyes on the floor of this walk-in covered in brine and that white stuff wondering what the hell kind of place is this?

I recovered and got drunk and was the laughing stock for the rest of the season.

[Charlotte]

Oh Luisa. I just made hollandaise sauce last week and have been wondering about making mayonaise. My aunt, who is a whiz cook, makes her own and people write odes about it and request it for presents. Between you both, I think I will take it on. And for the record, I have no aversions to the store stuff - I swear by Hellman's for my tomato sandwiches. But maybe this will knock my socks off. Bring on the cold roast chicken.

[Row]

You had your first tomato and mayo sandwich, woo-hoo! *high five* I gotta try this recipe out!

[Steph]

Thanks, Luisa! I am wondering if I could make this in a normal blender (I don't have an immersion blender). It would be more difficult to scrape out of the bottom of the blender, but I presume that it would still technically work? Any tips welcome!

[Agnes]

Thanks for a beautiful post. It is so inspiring getting to know what is going on in the States, foodwise. Here in Denmark there is a lot of buzz sourrounding the "New Nordic Kitchen" and the restaurant Noma, which focuses on Nordic ingredients - but then it often gets too fuzzy, I think, having things flewn in from Iceland and faraway Norwegian valleys or from Greenland - what you write about in this post regarding really focusing on the best, locally grown produce and old, forgotte vegetable sorts, somehow seems much more appealing to me. For me it is so essential, that cooking is still down-to-the-earth (in more ways than one ;-)). I really appreciate your sharing your knowledge with us. Thanks.

[Agnes]

...but then of course I find the New Nordic Kitchen movement great in many ways - but it still has to be much more developed with farmers markets and easy access to good ingredients for people outside the restaurant business. It is on its way, though. And it has meant quite a lot for the food scene in Denmark already - but for me it is important to know that focusing on local ingredients is not a strictly Scandinavian thing, but that there i so much going on in other part of the world, too.

[Beril]

I am literally blown away! Want just to quit work, run home and try this!
I always wanted to make my own mayo and never dared!
Thnx a million times!

xxx

[Amber]

L-
I'm so glad you provided a post with a recipe from this book. I live in the area and can't tell you how much Andrea has done to promote sustainable agriculture. And Lantern...if any readers have a chance to visit, it's worth it. Sit in the back bar for a cozy, relaxed meal and don't leave without trying the panna cotta. I too stayed up reading this book the first night I got it, much as I did with A Homemade Life!

[Gadia]

the sign of wonderful, inspiring writing and an approachable recipe is that the moment I finished reading this post I rushed into the kitchen to make this mayonnaise. literally cooking in the moment. Thank you Luisa, again and again and again. This is not the first time you've helped me put a meal on the table or at least the delectable dollop on the side.

[Frances]

Only my mother's will do. The unnaturally white wobble from a jar doesn't do it for me. I used to eat it with one lettuce leaf at a time, carefully dipped.

You should read "La Gourmandise" by Muriel Barbery. About a food critic chasing long-lost tastes, among which mayonnaise...

(And someone mentioned coffee sriracha mayo? How does that work? Recipe please?)

[Caffettiera]

Another mayo hater here: my grandmother taught me to do it by hand when I was a little child, but then she died, and I forgot how to make it and startet to dislike it. You convinced me to try this one. I just wanted a good recipe to start trying once again: the only two times I tried in my life, with no motivation and research at all, I failed miserably. And the book .. probably my next order. Thank you.

[Nuts about food]

I on the other hand am a mayonnaise lover (even if I do not eat it that often) so I don't need much convincing to try it out. I was sold at your first picture. Beautifully written post.

[Liza]

I, a mayo lover, have never made homemade, somehow it seemed difficult? Your post changed that and I write from here in Bonn at my kitchen table after just finishing the first tomato sandwich with my own homemade mayo! Delish... thanks so much....

[Michelle]

You are such a sweetie! Your description of this book is whimsical and I must get my hands on it. About the mayo, I think it is totally over used here in the states so I tend to run very very fast away from it. I do use it at home and I would much rather use home made. How long do you think it lasts?

[Hande]

@Frances (Luisa, I hope you don't mind - if you do, please feel free to delete this comment, I will understand)
The momofuku coffee mayo basically adds coffee and sherry vinegar to the basic mayo recipe I always use (which is about the same as the above one). I will write what I have in mind, may not be the exact recipe but definitely works, I always do it without looking at the recipe.
1 whole egg, 2 tsp instant coffee, 2tbsp water, 2tbsp sherry vinegar, 1 tbsp sriracha, 250ml (1 cup) peanut oil, a bit salt. Make sure everything is room temperature, put everything in a tall container/jar, put the stick blender in it and go. 10 seconds and you have redeye-mayo. check the taste and feel free to adjust.

[Betsy]

I have hated mayo forever also. This is the first argument I have ever heard that makes me maaaaaaaybe want to try it. I like everything in it, i'm just not sure why I've never liked the end product. Great post!

[Karen]

i too am repulsed by mayo, my dad used to glob it on a fresh tomato slice....course i hated tomatoes then too.... and well, truth be told i think that i will make this and probably truly enjoy it..maybe even on a tomato something or other.....but i won't be calling it mayonaise. thanks for the great words and great review of my next cookbook purchase.

[Amanda]

Glad you've come into the light of mayonnaise! It was the anchovies, I am sure.

Can I just say that the way you talk about her and her love of food and life, and how glorious it is to read her...that's how I feel about your writing! And that book of yours...

Happy writing.

[Anna]

I love Lantern, which I discovered during my grad school days in Chapel Hill. The place really is magical (and I love the bar, too). I've wondered about this cookbook and am glad to read your glowing review of it. You've persuaded me. Does she include her homemade XO sauce recipe?...

[Teryll Sacks]

I feel your disdain for mayo. I will only eait it if it's homemade, other than that it makes me sick to my stomach! This book sounds amazing, adding to my library wish list!

[Beril]

and I've done it! Tastes amazing!
thnx a billion times again!
cheers