salt, part 2.

mayo (or aioli, if you use olive oil) is pretty easy on paper: an egg yolk, a squeeze of lemon, oil, and lots of whisking.

but then, of course, there’s the salt.

the first (and only successful) time i made mayo was a proud moment. i was dazzled by the transformation that occurred from the raw ingredients to the finished product, and all with my own hands! it had the right amounts of lemon juice and garlic, and a nice consistency that was not too thick or thin. but there was one problem—i didn’t salt it well enough. and while the end result looked and smelled good, it most certainly tasted blandtastic.

tonight i tried it again, but this time i was determined to salt it right. i added a pinch of salt, then another, then another. then came the emulsion, the vegetable oil, and plenty of whisking. many minutes later, the end product looked right and smelled right, but the taste?

O.M.G. SO. SALTY!!@!!@!11

this is officially the first time i have ever made anything that actually had too much salt in it! i am not sure whether i should be happy, or be really disappointed i screwed up an otherwise promising mayonnaise. on the up side, i have a better idea of what the upper limit is in the way of seasoning… so perhaps i should oversalt things more often?

and so, the salt saga continues…

meat + salt = <3

there are many stories about love and salt. a protagonist in one story proclaims, “i love you as fresh meat loves salt!“

it’s quite the concept, salt being a symbol of love. on the surface it is a mean, dehydrating, plant-killing crystal. but used correctly, salt is great! it makes sweets sweeter, meats meatier, and everything else in general tastier. and what better way to express your love for a significant other than to say, “you make my world more delicious.”

yet, i fear salt in my own hands. this past saturday evening, i made my first foray into the world of meatballs. it seemed simple enough—ground beef, some herbs and spices, bread crumbs, eggs… and then it came time for…

the salt.

relying only on my poor vision, i sized up the pre-ball meat glob and began measuring the salt out in my palm. when i had nearly a palmful, i stopped. my eyes darted back and forth. meat… salt… meat… salt… is this enough salt? does it need more? should i use less? i picked up the salt container, paused, then put it down again, finally concluding (with some hesitation) that the seemingly large mound of salt in my small palm would be sufficient. the salt was carefully incorporated into the mixture and my first meatball shaped: the test meatball.

now, some of you may have heard this already, but the smell of your food while it’s cooking can tell you a lot. well, as soon as my little prototype hit that searing hot pan, my nose knew something was amiss. it did not smell like beefy goodness at all! just raw, burning flesh. the subsequent taste test proved what my nose already suspected:

underseasoned. terribly, terribly underseasoned.

this doesn’t taste like beefy love, i thought. this tastes like bland, chunky, rubbery hatred!

i dared to add more salt to the rest of the batch. i added and added until i began to worry—is this too much salt now? oh no!

the remaining meatballs were better, but still underseasoned.

salt: 2,759. ren: 0.

i haven’t quite figured out why i am so timid when it comes to salt. maybe it’s all the years of watching tv chefs tell me i “can always add, but can’t take away”. maybe it’s the fear of my food tasting like it fell into a tank of ocean water. maybe it’s that i never realized how important salt really is to the flavor of a dish. regardless, salting is surely a craft i will be fine-tuning for many more years to come. i love you salt, really i do!