While the taste of Duke’s mayonnaise has become well-known, many people probably don’t know Duke’s Mayonnaise history and the story of Eugenia Duke…
Today I want to tell you guys a story about someone I admire. It’s also a story about mayonnaise. The best mayonnaise on the planet, in fact.
A few years ago, Jarrett and I became obsessed with Duke’s Mayonnaise. And because we (apparently?) have nothing better to do, we decided we wanted to test our marriage by co-writing an article about Duke’s for NPR’s The Salt. (Because the wedding cookbook wasn’t lunatic enough.)
As we dove into learning more about Duke’s, we immediately realized something exciting: Eugenia Duke was a total badass.
Photo credit: The C.F. Sauer Company.
She started a sandwich business from her kitchen in 1917, before she even had the right to vote. By 1923, she was a manufacturing tycoon and had opened one of the first factories in Greenville, SC. She wore big hats and a string of pearls no matter what the occasion, and personally, I would kill for that kind of swag.
But here’s the big lesson I learned from Eugenia Duke’s life:
If you love something enough, nothing can stop you. The work will become its own daily reward.
So remember that next time you’re sitting down to write or brainstorm or do that hard project. Make it for you, and make it the best you can.
(And if it’s mayo you’re making, send to P.O. Box My Stomach, Alexandria, VA.)
Worth The Whisk: How The Woman Behind Duke’s Mayo Became A Tycoon
This article originally appeared on NPR’s The Salt.
Peek into the walk-in refrigerators of the most lauded restaurants in the country, and you will likely find just one store-bought ingredient: Duke’s Mayonnaise. But what most people don’t know is that the company was founded by a Southern woman at a time when many women like her didn’t run businesses.
“We make everything from scratch at Rhubarb,” says John Fleer, a five-time finalist for a James Beard Award and the chef and owner of the farm-to-table restaurant Rhubarb in Asheville, N.C. “Duke’s is one of the few packaged items we use, but we use the heck out of it,” he says. And he’s pretty serious about his affection for the condiment. “I don’t associate with chefs that don’t use it. Or else, I enlighten them,” he adds with a smile.
Fleer and many other professional chefs are not ashamed to admit that their own fresh-whisked mayonnaise can’t compete with the magic found in a bottle of Duke’s. As the cult of Duke’s has racked up converts, and begun to expand beyond its original territory in America’s Deep South, even the yellow-capped jars themselves have become treasured collector’s items, serving as wedding centerpieces and cremation urns.
Unlike most other mass-produced mayonnaise, Duke’s contains no sugar. This gives it the signature tang that has kept both chefs and home cooks raving about it since the company was founded over 100 years ago. “When they teach you how to make mayonnaise in culinary school, they are essentially teaching you how to make Duke’s,” says Fleer. “It has the right balance of richness and acidity.”
But while the taste of Duke’s mayonnaise has become well-known, many people probably don’t know the story of how it was created…
Click here to keep reading this article on The Salt!
5 quick reads for the week
- I am in deep on this trend.
- Why you shouldn’t make something that’s for everyone.
- Don’t just choose the words on the page–choose the words in your mind.
- A treasure trove: 23 magazines and websites that want your work!
- This is not a panda video.
What we’re eating this week
I’m home; I’m cookin’; I’m still obsessed with my Instant Pot. Or as Jarrett calls it, the InstaPot. (Am I allowed to bean my husband with an appliance if he’s mispronouncing its name just to get a rise out of me? What would Eugenia Duke do?)
Monday: Pork tenderloin in the Instant Pot with an extra trendy cauliflower mash and green beans. (Real talk: pork tenderloin might be the least interesting meat on the planet. I am reminded of this every time I stupidly, stupidly buy it. NEVER AGAIN, I say for the fortieth time.)
Tuesday: French onion soup, because what I need after a long day of work is to spend 45 hours caramelizing onions while my stomach growls and everyone hangry-snaps at each other, right?
Wednesday: My meal plan says, “Chicken Curry, rice, broc” but my heart says sweet, sweet, buttery spaghetti. Heart, you so bad.
Thursday: Nothing at all because I’m OOO for a surgery and am 1,000% committed to doing nothing aka being SO BORED and demanding homemade chicken soup even though it is 1,000,000 degrees and I am too opinionated about chicken soup to appreciate anyone else’s recipe. I am a dream patient.
Friday: Uh…Duke’s Mayo? Yeah. Let’s do that.
