As I mentioned in my last newsletter, I’m currently reading The Paris Novel by Ruth Reichl, which is (unsurprisingly, given its author) graced with many vivid food vignettes. A recent scene that tugged on my heartstrings featured saffron aioli served with spears of crisp-tender white asparagus. Perfect.
I think that one of life’s greatest pleasures is aioli, a belief I attribute to a year of cooking at a Brooklyn restaurant called Hart’s. (I wrote lots of posts while working at Hart’s as a line cook. See here, here, and here, if you’re curious.) To borrow my former colleague Andi’s words, “I’ve never worked for such a mayonnaise-positive restaurant.” We’d make vats of aioli, tasting for garlic, salt, and lemon, and would adjust it until we were tempted to lick the Robot Coupe clean. Now, I wonder how I ever lived without this glorified mayonnaise in my life! One of my favorite applications of aioli on the menu was when we’d serve a generous dollop alongside a crisp-skinned fish filet with boiled baby potatoes, braised greens, and a lemon cheek. I always thought and still think that those components together are a top-tier food. But today, I want to talk about another way to eat aioli.
Although September may bring autumnal fantasies and an itch to pull your sweaters out of storage, it’s still firmly summer (at least in New York City). The temperatures are warm and the markets majestic, spilling with tomatoes and peaches. I, for one, don’t want to do too much capital C Cooking and would much rather sit outside, grazing on simple, delicious things dipped in aioli. I believe I first discovered the concept of le grand aioli via this article in The New York Times Magazine by Gabrielle Hamilton, who called it a “perfect, languid, lavish alfresco meal.” It is exactly that. From my understanding, le grand aioli comes from Provence, where aioli-centered feasts are held in late summer once the garlic has been harvested. Communities gather to eat vegetables, eggs, and seafood in punchy, golden aioli.
There are, of course, endless versions of le grand aioli and no one right way to do it. This is my early September take on one of my favorite ways to eat.
N.B.: I thought about lying to you and telling you that I popped a bottle of rosé and served this meal to friends in some beautiful outdoor location. But the truth is that it was just for me and Teo (le petit aioli, if you will), and we ate it inside our little Brooklyn apartment during my lunch break. From Slack to Provence. And the casualness did not stop me from adding a few precious strands of Turkish saffron to the aioli. The good stuff is meant to be enjoyed.
A September Menu
Le Petit Aioli
Serves 2
Ingredients:
For the aioli:
Pinch of saffron threads (optional)
1 lemon
2 egg yolks
½ teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 small clove garlic
Kosher salt
½ cup neutral oil (like sunflower or grapeseed)
½ cup olive oil
For the spread:
A baguette
A few eggs
Some little waxy potatoes
Some cherry tomatoes
A bunch of radishes
A handful of green beans
Directions:
Make the aioli: Add the saffron (if using) to a little bowl with a generous squeeze of lemon juice. Set aside. Into a medium mixing bowl, add the egg yolks and Dijon, and grate in the garlic with a Microplane. Sprinkle with salt, and whisk to combine. Pour the oils into a measuring cup with a spout. Gradually add the oil (drop by drop) to the egg yolk mixture, whisking constantly. Once it starts to look creamy and thick, you can start slowly streaming in the oil, still whisking constantly. Whisk in the saffron-infused lemon juice. Taste for salt, lemon, and garlic, and adjust as you see fit. This recipe will probably make too much for two people, but that’s a good thing. (Now I’m imagining the sandwich possibilities with saffron aioli, ooooh.)
Boil what needs to be boiled: This part is endlessly adaptable, but here’s one version. Add the potatoes to a small pot and cover with cold water. Salt the water generously. Bring to a boil, lower to a simmer, and cook the potatoes until tender, about 10-15 minutes. Use a slotted spoon to transfer the potatoes to a bowl of ice water. Return the same pot of water to a boil and blanch the green beans until bright green and crisp-tender, about 3 minutes. Remove the potatoes from the ice water and let dry on a clean dish towel. Transfer the blanched green beans to the bowl of ice water until just cooled, then transfer to the same clean dish towel to dry. Add the eggs and cook for about 7 minutes for a jammy yolk. Transfer to the ice water for a few minutes before peeling them.
Slice what needs to be sliced: Slice large cherry tomatoes in half, and leave the smaller ones whole. Same goes for the radishes and the boiled potatoes. The boiled eggs also need to be halved, and the baguette sliced.
Arrange everything: This is the fun part, when you get to make it look beautiful.
For dessert, go out for ice cream. It won’t be summer for much longer!
More soon,
Phoebe