The Epicurean
A Treatise on the Culinary Art — Charles Ranhofer of Delmonico’s — 1894
No. 607

Mayonnaise Sauce a la Bayonnaise

Sauce Mayonnaise a la Bayonnaise

Lay five egg-yolks in a bowl with a quarter of a gill of water, half an ounce of salt, a little pepper and a little cayenne, then beat it up and incorporate slowly into it two and one-half pints of oil and one gill of vinegar, stirring it unceasingly, and when the sauce thickens add to it more vinegar, and continue pouring in the oil and vinegar till they are both consumed. It must be of a high consistency, of a white color, and of a good flavor; it is preferable to use a wire whisk in place of a wooden spoon for this purpose. Add to this mayonnaise half a pound of lean Bayonne ham, cut in squares, some powdered Spanish peppers, and some chopped parsley.

For the Modern Kitchen

Ranhofer's mayonnaise is built at restaurant scale — five quarts of finished sauce is not a home quantity. The ratios hold up, so scale down and the method works as written.

A Little History

The Epicurean (1894) is Charles Ranhofer's record of thirty-odd years as chef at Delmonico's in New York, and its cold-sauce chapter reads like a catalogue: a base mayonnaise followed by a run of numbered variations, each defined by what is stirred into it. The name of the sauce puns on its garnish. Mayonnaise itself has a contested etymology, one account placing its origin in Menorca, though Bayonne and the French manier (to handle or work) have both been proposed — and Ranhofer's version leans into the Bayonne reading by adding the ham of that city, along with Spanish paprika. That a New York kitchen could call for Bayonne ham at all says something about the period: by the 1890s European cured meats were within reach of a first-class American restaurant, and the sauce assumes a brigade with the arms to whisk a substantial batch of it by hand.