The sinking of the mayo(nnaise)
Posted: Sat Jul 28, 2012 6:12 am
I was doing the Evelyn Woods thing to a jar of mayonnaise while the about-to-be-a-sandwich roast beef was being bombarded with U-238 or whatever in the microwave, when a story I'd heard long ago fought its way through the synapses to the frontal lobes' center-stage; I'm curious if anyone else can lend veracity to this bit of historical trivia:
The original formula for mayonnaise (which began in the late 1800s in the kitchens of the reknowned English firm of Lea, Perrin & Hawkins) was an unmitigated disaster, as it was far, far too spicy--to the point that those with keen hearing could detect the salivary glands exposed to this seminal mayo formula shriek in agony--for the staid British tastes.
It was only through serendipity that the English equivalent of a traveling salesman happened to have a few small jars with him when he paid a call on a regular customer who was in the business of wholesale food-distribution to the larger cities in Mexico.
This version of mayonnaise--hot and pungent enough to immediately clear up even the worst cases of nasal congestion--was a hit far beyond even the wildest imagination of the salesman and in no time (after a small taste had been parceled out from the two jars to as many people as possible) he had orders that would essentially fill even the largest packet ship.
When word was received from across the Atlantic that the three-masted vessel--laden to the point that the Plimsol Line was completely submerged--had left port and was on its way the whole country's frustrated anticipation grew to a near-frenzy, as its populace waited for this delicious garnish to just about every food to finally arrive.
National trauma to the point of catatonia ensued when the terrible news was received that the ship--packed to the point that even in calm waters the sea frequently crashed over the bow--had been sunk in a North Atlantic storm, taking every last pallet, case, and jar of this sought-after version of mayo to the bottom of the sea.
The catastrophe was so great that an annual day of somber remembrance was decreed and although the occasion has, over the years, become jubilant instead of mournful (perhaps as an affirmation that even the worst calamity could be overcome) every year the citizens of Mexico observes the 5th of May: The day of the "sink o' de mayo".
Can anyone offer a disinterested-third-party confirmation of this legend?
The original formula for mayonnaise (which began in the late 1800s in the kitchens of the reknowned English firm of Lea, Perrin & Hawkins) was an unmitigated disaster, as it was far, far too spicy--to the point that those with keen hearing could detect the salivary glands exposed to this seminal mayo formula shriek in agony--for the staid British tastes.
It was only through serendipity that the English equivalent of a traveling salesman happened to have a few small jars with him when he paid a call on a regular customer who was in the business of wholesale food-distribution to the larger cities in Mexico.
This version of mayonnaise--hot and pungent enough to immediately clear up even the worst cases of nasal congestion--was a hit far beyond even the wildest imagination of the salesman and in no time (after a small taste had been parceled out from the two jars to as many people as possible) he had orders that would essentially fill even the largest packet ship.
When word was received from across the Atlantic that the three-masted vessel--laden to the point that the Plimsol Line was completely submerged--had left port and was on its way the whole country's frustrated anticipation grew to a near-frenzy, as its populace waited for this delicious garnish to just about every food to finally arrive.
National trauma to the point of catatonia ensued when the terrible news was received that the ship--packed to the point that even in calm waters the sea frequently crashed over the bow--had been sunk in a North Atlantic storm, taking every last pallet, case, and jar of this sought-after version of mayo to the bottom of the sea.
The catastrophe was so great that an annual day of somber remembrance was decreed and although the occasion has, over the years, become jubilant instead of mournful (perhaps as an affirmation that even the worst calamity could be overcome) every year the citizens of Mexico observes the 5th of May: The day of the "sink o' de mayo".
Can anyone offer a disinterested-third-party confirmation of this legend?