Amanda Miller
Columnist
Lettuce Eat Local
Like with parents of any child, Brian and I are not always sure where some of Benson’s phrases or actions come from. Shoot, we don’t even exactly know how he got his blue eyes and blond hair, considering we both have brown eyes and brown hair. The magic of recessive genetic traits.
Speaking of magic as of this past week, suddenly his new thing is: “Let me show you a magic trick!” I think I said that to him once, although he started saying it himself after spending an evening with cousins, so maybe they taught it to him? At any rate, it feels out of the blue.
After his declaration, Benson will then proceed to do some strange stretching move, climb onto a stepstool in a weird way, or most often, perch with one foot on a chair rung and the other on the bookshelf ledge — whatever it is, executed with all the finesse and confident enthusiasm a two-and-a-half-year-old body can muster. While the “trick” itself may be underwhelming, the grin that accompanies it isn’t, and it’s impossible not to applaud generously.
My cuteness levels are nowhere near Benson’s, so I won’t expect similar applause, but I feel like I’ve found my own magic trick that I want to show you. Roasted chile mayonnaise, ta-da! I’ll save my bow for after you’ve tried it.
I’ve long felt that mayo has a magical aura to it; a creamy emulsion of previously very disparate ingredients that can transform a dish with even just a dollop of its velvety richness. (And although its name would suggest it belongs here, I am a mayonnaise snob and I do not categorize Miracle Whip in the same mystical way.) And while mayo is remarkable on its own, flavor additions only make it more so. I’ve found most of my favorites while making sushi: adding just a few things to mayonnaise to make it Japanese kewpie-style, wasabi, or sriracha.
But now I have a new favorite, at least currently. Kind of like Benson’s magic tricks, I’m not sure if I saw chile mayo somewhere or if I just made it up, but here it is. The concept is quite simple — I added a little sugar and rice vinegar like I do for that addictive kewpie mayo, and chopped grilled poblano peppers. The spicy earthiness of the poblanos melds with the tangy luxuriousness of the mayonnaise, all of it brightened by the acid and deepened by the grill char. I’m unfortunately not kidding when I say sometimes I don’t even look for a vehicle and just eat it on a spoon.
That said, it’s probably better with things. Slathered on grilled zucchini slices or roast chicken, stirred into scrambled eggs or tomato soup, spread on biscuits or a grilled cheese sandwich.
Its highest calling, however, may be as a component in BLTs. I tried it in preparation for a monthly class I teach in Arlington, and oh. my. goodness. Technically it may have just been all the other lovely fresh ingredients — soft homemade bread and juicy garden slicing tomatoes and crispy farm-raised bacon — but I had to put my BLT down after my first bite to take it all in and savor the magic. Brian even commented on how incredible the sandwich was, and while I’m not usually a bacon person (gasp!), I was quite pleased there was plenty left of everything for another meal or two. It might even be worth it to smell up the kitchen again frying up more bacon if necessary.
And if that’s what roasted Chile mayo can do, that’s quite a magic trick.
You don’t really need a recipe for BLTs, but they are just such a perfect vehicle for this spicy mayo that I couldn’t help but tag it along. Since the ingredients are so simple, make sure you use quality ones. Draining the tomato slices keeps you safe from a soggy sandwich, which in my book is another magic trick. The mayo can be made a week in advance, but of course your sandwich needs to be eaten immediately after assembly for best results.
Prep tips: use any Chile of your preference, but remember, use mayo and not miracle whip.
1 cup mayonnaise
1-3 grilled or broiled Chiles (poblano, hatch, Anaheim, jalapeño…), chopped
splash of rice wine vinegar
pinch of salt and sugar
thick slices of fresh tomato
good bread
lettuce leaves
crispy bacon
Mix mayo and Chiles (deseed the Chiles, or don’t add them all if it’s seeming too spicy). Add in vinegar and salt to taste; refrigerate. Set tomato slices on a paper towel and sprinkle with salt. Let dry a bit. Lightly toast the bread (decide if you’re doing open- or closed-face sandwiches). Assemble sandwich in this order: bread, mayo, lettuce, tomato, bacon. Eat.
