The first time I made mayonnaise, the olive oil I used came from Boots the chemist. It was a small bottle, pretty tasteless, and quite clearly not meant for culinary purposes.
I wonder why it has taken us so long to become interested in using olive oil. Elizabeth David wrote about its wonderful qualities forty years ago, and since then we have traveled to Spain, France, and Italy for holidays and enjoyed its sunny, fragrant taste. But it is only in the past five or six years that our use of olive oil has become a matter of course. It has also become a bit of an obsession. There are people demanding to know whether the oil is first pressing, or is it virgin? Is it extra-virgin and cold-pressed? Is it filtered? Does it have a vintage? Is it time to introduce an appellation? And, if so, who should control it? And, anyway, who made the oil? Which tree did the olives come from, and who picked them? Please understand that I am very fond of olive oil, and respect its qualities, but it is, after all, just something that happens to be very nice to cook with.
Wherever you go, it seems that someone wants to dribble a bit of that golden green liquid over your food. It’s just not on. I went to a place once where a terrine of duck foie gras (one of the richest and fattiest things it is possible to eat) was served with a slick of olive oil poured over it. There is even a restaurant in London’s West End named after a brand of it.
The interest in simple and rustic Italian food must be a major cause of its popularity. Olive oil is healthier, I suppose, than butter, but that is not an issue here; I like the taste of both and would not substitute one for the other. One might think that they do in Italy. Well, they don’t. If a dish needs butter, it gets butter; if it needs olive oil, it gets olive oil. It’s a question of region too.
Olive oil marinates meat or fish to a melting richness and performs miraculous transformations of texture and flavor on many ingredients. But, when it comes to making mayonnaise, I find it overbearing to use just olive oil. Elizabeth David would have disagreed with me. She talked about its ointment-like consistency—which is a fine description—because when made this way that is exactly what it looks like. My preference is for a 60/40 combination of olive oil and peanut oil (or another flavorless variety). This cuts down the richness and helps with the homogeneity.
The exception to this is when making the wonderful garlic mayonnaise called aïoli, which is found in the south of France, particularly Provence. This must be made only from olive oil (see here). And, incidentally, in that part of France, olive oil is called beurre de Provence. That’s regional nomenclature for you. The following recipe for mashed potatoes uses beurre de Provence rather than butter.
I have to admit that the inspiration for this delicious purée comes from nowhere near Provence. I found a recipe for creamed new potatoes with olive oil in Cuisine Spontanée by Frédy Girardet. He has a restaurant in Switzerland, just outside Lausanne. Made with new potatoes, it is a quite different thing from our idea of soft, fluffy mashed potatoes. New potatoes produce a silkier and creamier texture, but you don’t want to eat too much of it. However, made with Jersey Royals, the flavor is quite extraordinary.
2 lb russet potatoes, peeled and cut into chunks
salt and pepper
½ cup whole milk
2 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
1 rosemary sprig
1 thyme sprig
1 cup virgin olive oil
Boil the potatoes in salted water. Meanwhile, heat together the milk, garlic, rosemary, and thyme, then remove from the heat, cover, and leave to infuse. Drain and mash the potatoes—I use a mouli-légumes—and put them in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with a paddle rather than a whisk. Strain the flavored milk through a fine sieve, add the olive oil, and gently reheat. Switch the mixer on at a low speed and add the milk mixture to the potatoes in a steady stream. When all the liquid has been added, adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper. Turn the mixer speed up and beat until you have a smooth, glossy purée.
This is very good with roast meats, particularly veal and lamb. But the first time I ever made it, it went with rabbit.
There is no point in making this unless you have sun-ripened tomatoes, which actually taste of tomatoes, and the finest quality olive oil. To call it a sauce is a slight misnomer—it is more like a dressing.
4 very ripe tomatoes, peeled, seeded, and chopped
1 tbsp red wine vinegar
salt and pepper
2 small garlic cloves, peeled and thinly sliced
1 small shallot, peeled and finely chopped
1 small bunch of basil, leaves only, torn into pieces
½ cup olive oil
Use a white porcelain dish for making this sauce, as it looks best. Mix together the tomatoes, vinegar, salt and pepper, garlic, and shallot. Leave to macerate for 30 minutes. Stir in the basil and olive oil, and serve with grilled sea bass.
Vinaigrette is very easy to make. Once you’ve made a batch, put it in a screw-top jar in the fridge and it will keep for several weeks. So this recipe is for a large quantity; in fact, it is more successful to make a lot rather than a little.
½ cup red wine vinegar
1 tbsp smooth Dijon mustard
salt and freshly ground white pepper, to taste
½ cup walnut oil
1 cup olive oil
In either a blender or an electric mixer, beat together the vinegar, mustard, salt, and pepper. Mix together the oils and, with the machine running, add them to the vinegar solution until homogenized.