The charms of aioli
The charms of aioli
What my favorite cooks have said about my favorite kitchen task.
I love this Fergus Henderson quote that was featured on the St. John account the other day.
“Aioli often seems to be mistaken for a garlic mayonnaise, but this is not so. Aioli is aioli and eating it should be an emotional experience — it is strong, but that is its role in life.”
Aioli is a perfect creation. By literal definition it may just be an oil and egg emulsion supplemented with garlic. But I agree with Fergus that in reality it’s much more — a magic trick that is widely debated without being obnoxiously divisive.
How many eggs and yolks? What kind of oil? Whisk by hand, blend in a food processor or use a mortar and pestle? Dijon? Vinegar? Lemon? How much garlic is too much garlic? Why bother with any of that when you have access to very good store-bought stuff?
Some of the best chefs feel incredibly strongly about all of these questions. Here’s another headnote from Henderson’s recipe in “The Complete Nose To Tail” (20 garlic cloves, 3 egg yolks, 2.5 cups EVOO, two lemons).
“You can use a food processor, or a mortar and pestle, or a bowl and wooden spoon. Some use vegetable oil rather than olive oil for a gentler result. I do not. You should have that bitter olive taste. Some thin with water; I feel this should be avoided.”
Cooks love to get personal about their aioli set up, despite the differences being fairly marginal. If you’ve bought a cookbook in the past five years, you’ve likely been directed to the one true way to make aioli at home. These missives often find the writer at their most passionate, and rightly so. Once you master aioli, it feels like yours in a way other cooking techniques just don’t. One reason for that is the anxiety-inducing nature of the process.
Here’s an excerpt from the recipe in Andrew Tarlow and Anna Dunn’s “Dinner At The Long Table” (3 garlic cloves, 3 yolks, 1 cup EVOO, 1 cup neutral oil, 1 lemon):
“Aioli. Always aioli. The only time I get anxious is when I am making aioli; I think the garlic and oil can tell. I read once that, traditionally, Spanish grandmothers make aioli without egg; it's just a garlic and oil sauce. So every time I try it that way first, and I fail. I try it next with egg and fail I go to the trouble. I never use a blender. And I usually even try to forgo the whisk.”
There’s something thrilling about teetering on the edge that makes homemade aioli my favorite kitchen task. Unlike hand-whipping cream — a thankless nightmare to be avoided at all costs — aioli contains magic in its process and its outcome. In “Taste & Technique”, Naomi Pomeroy writes that, “Mastering homemade aioli is a great milestone in the kitchen. Making it requires patience, which is a good lesson for every cook to learn.”
Agreed. When I started cooking, I was in a consistent state of rush and alarm, scanning between recipes and burners to make sure everything was perfectly in order. Aioli takes time. It’s ready when it’s ready. Rather than follow a recipe precisely, you’ll only get it right if you pay attention and trust your instincts. Then it becomes easy. Nailing that approach is the gateway to all other great cooking.
Pomeroy has my favorite technical guide atop her recipe (1 garlic clove, 1 egg, 1.5 cups neutral oil, 1.5 cups EVOO, 1 lemon). Look at all the ways you’re encouraged to prevent yourself from failing and having your emulsion break into a sad glop.
“My silver bullet for making perfect aioli is to drape a Dutch oven or other big pot with a damp kitchen towel and place a metal bowl inside the pot. This arrangement holds the bowl steady while you whisk — like adding a third hand. To get the yolk moving properly, choose a bowl with a gradual curve and a small, flat bottom — the natural curvature of the bowl will encourage better motion with your whisk.
Work on a low surface (think kitchen table instead of the countertop — your arm will thank you later) and ready your mise en place before you start whisking. A stiff whisk will slow you down, while a flexible balloon whisk will get the job done in a few minutes. A squeeze bottle is ideal for adding the oil to the yolk slowly and carefully. If you don't have one, put the oil into a flexible plastic container — a take-out container or a leftover yogurt tub will do — so you can easily bend it into a little spout that will allow you to control the flow of the oil as you whisk. The first time you make aioli, try doubling the recipe, as it's a bit easier to make with two eggs.”
The charm of aioli is that after you surmount this finicky task, you’ve ended up with a product that will never be the star of the show. As Ashley Christensen writes in the “Poole’s” cookbook (1 egg yolk, 1.5 cups neutral oil, 0.25 cup cider vinegar).
“You may not consider [aioli] a method of seasoning yet, but if I have my way, you will.”
That’s why it’s tough to pick a favorite aioli, or aioli-centric dish. Done right, it elevates without outshining. Consider the best seasonal special at Found Oyster in LA. When Ari Kolander has absolutely perfect Santa Barbara spot prawns in, he’ll first bring you the bodies served sashimi style. Later in the meal, the heads come out, fried and seasoned with togarashi. On their own, they’re delicious. But the move is to make sure you have some of the vinegary aioli that goes with the fries left on your table for when these bad boys arrive. Do a little dip and enjoy. You aren’t thinking about the aioli. You’re thinking about the prawns. But you’re remembering them the following week because the aioli hack made the bite. That’s the magic.
Some more aioli takes and tips:
Freeze your oil an hour before you start emulsifying. It gets you much closer to a no-fail state.
The Poole’s-style vinegar inclusion (cider or malt) creates a texture that’s perfect as a binding agent. Think pimento cheese or deviled eggs.
I started off following the Andrew Tarlow aioli ratios — 3 garlic cloves, 3 egg yolks, 1 cup EVOO, 1 cup neutral oil and 1 lemon — but over time I’ve enjoyed tipping the scales to 3 parts EVOO and 1 part neutral oil (a la Ignacio Mattos in the “Estela” cookbook). It hits the fattiness and texture level I need in a base aioli. But, most importantly, play around with it and discover your own.
Relatedly: Embrace the base aioli. You’ll be so much happier if you have a few cups of standard aioli in your fridge and then riff from there. Maybe you want to chop up some anchovies and fennel fronds, thin it out with some lemon and use it for a dressing. Maybe you want to crush it with garlic and onion powder, buttermilk and chives for a ranch. Maybe you want to stir in chili oil for a dip. Give yourself those options.
Two garlic cloves are plenty, especially for a base aioli. More than four is showy and reckless. Here’s Gabrielle Hamilton on the proper amount of garlic in the “Prune” cookbook (4 garlic cloves, 1 egg, 1 yolk, 1.5 cups neutral oil, 1 lemon):
“It is easier to add more garlic than it is to tone down too much garlic. The feroc-ty/mildness of different heads can vary pretty wildly so taste along the way to see what you are working with. We want it to be garlicky — it's an aioli — but you don't want to burn the customer or make it look like you don't know what you are doing.”
Samin Nosrat in “Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat” with an essential tip on seasoning a base aioli:
“To season a plain mayonnaise for spreading, dissolve the salt in a few tablespoons of water or whatever form of acid you plan to add, whether it's lemon juice or vinegar. If you add salt without dissolving it first, you'll have to wait a while for the mayonnaise to completely absorb it before you get an accurate idea of how it tastes.”
The inclusion of a whole egg, on top of rewarding laziness, also leads to a runnier aioli, which is sometimes what you want in a dip or salad dressing. Try it out.
Be sensitive to heat if you’re using a blender. If you drip your oil in too slowly and let your machine run for an eternity, you’ll cook the eggs. Yikes.
Take a break if you need to! Change the song. Pop a Rose Delight. Do a Nadi Shodhana Pranayama. Everything will be fine.
Both David Chang in “Momofuku” and Mason Hereford in “Turkey And The Wolf” advocate for just buying good mayo (Kewpie and Duke’s, respectively) and boosting it yourself from there. That’s totally reasonable. Tossing some yuzu kosho or harissa into a cup of Kewpie mayo is an excellent move in a pinch. It’s also a good kitchen task to pawn off to someone you don’t trust with anything else.
Melissa Clark in “Dinner In French” (1-3 garlic cloves, 1 egg, 1 egg yolks, 0.75 cups EVOO, 1 lemon) provides an alternative take: “When the French serve a little bowl of mayonnaise for dipping artichoke leaves or tiny pink shrimp, chances are it's homemade. Of course you can buy mayo in any French supermarket, but no self-respecting host would serve that to guests, especially when everyone knows how incredibly easy it is to whip up. I've adopted that mayo-at-any-moment mind-set, always ready to whirl together a batch. When my daughter asks for a BLT, the first thing I do is pull out the blender.”
I lean more on the Clark side, but every aioli journey is unique.
Alright, onto the usual Bangers & Jams lists for paid subscribers …
Bangers
Sandra Huller and Milo Machado Graner’s performances in “Anatomy Of A Fall.”
The new spa and gym set up on the roof of the Hotel Chelsea
The blossom chicken, sweet & sour pork on ice and crispy squab at Hakka Cuisine.
Jams
The chill and reliable New Year’s Eve spread at Corner Bar, especially the salty espresso martinis.
Benny Safdie in “Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret?”
Raven Smith on why we can’t stop talking about Saltburn.
Ghiaia work shirts
