Homemade Mayonnaise

A friend just gave me some beautiful eggs from her lovely chickens. Farm fresh eggs are the best! Bright orangey yolks that actually stand up a little in the pan. They taste nothing like the watery thin industrial ones you shouldn't be eating anyway.

Eggs this fresh also mean the possibility of homemade mayonnaise without anybody getting sick. All I have is a quick point and shoot - no filters or fancy equipment to make those yolks look so brightly orange. An organic diet, free ranged lifestyle (in view of Mt Baker helps) will do the trick. Also, neither can I believe I actually just bought a Cuisinart.

I've always preferred homemade mayo, but didn't want to take a gamble with store bought eggs. The ones we get at the coop from Cameno Island are probably fresh enough, but with eggs only a few hours old, I knew I could give it a go. Also, a handy trick I learned is to submerge your eggs in water. Ones that sink are fresh, ones that float should be thrown out, ones that stand on their end should get cooked and eaten today.

What I did:
1 farm fresh egg
1 Tbs white vinegar
1 rounded tsp real dijon mustard
pinch of salt

with the food processor on continuously, very slowly add 1 c olive oil. It took at least a couple minutes to slowly pour it in.

The taste is so impressive I immediately made another batch - below is the pint that ensued. Yes, pint. No, I did not think of that before hand. Friends are welcome to take home a helping within the next few days - it may be the most delicious mayonnaise you've ever had.

pesto d'urtica

Organic, free, and more healthful than anything you ate last week, foraged nettles are my new love. The weekend proved to be perfect timing for picking some on Bainbridge. But when I mentioned my plans to the Italian father in law, all I got was finger wagging and tsking. No, no, pesto pasta is an Italian institution not to be tainted with some hippie nettle sacrilege. So when I told him (lied) that the only recipe I could find was in Italian, he not only offered to translate, but decided to go with me, into the woods, to pick nettles.

To understand my surprise, and the rarity of this situation, you have to know one thing. My Italian American father in law may be the greatest indoorsman of his generation. His idea of an outdoor adventure is a passeggiata bookended by cappuccino and watching Rick Steves Italia on demand. To really rough it is to spend the weekend reading Dante's Inferno.

But there we two were heading to the forest, I in my hiking boots, he in his tasseled loafers and telling me of the backyard foraging traditions of his Nonnos way back when. Suddenly it seemed I was the one accompanying him to pick nettles for pesto d'urtica.

"I can't believe you're into this," I said.
"Of course, the Italians invented this."
You gotta love him.


God help me learn to follow a recipe some day, this is what I did:
Blanch nettles about one minute, reserving the liquid for tea.
Throw into the food processor: 1c-ish packed (water squeezed out) cooked nettles (since I broke off just the tips, I used stems and all), 1/2c pine nuts, grated parmesan, 2-3 cloves garlic and enough oil (I'll guess anywhere between 1/4 - 1/2c) to slide well with pasta. The homemade pasta, mind you.

The in-laws made some the night before and was cooked perfect al dente for supper. Their synergy was absolutely delightful, bar none the best pesto pasta I have ever had in my life. (Just as good: watching my kids pig out on the equivalent of bowl upon bowl of spinach. Mwa ha ha!)

Here is some pesto I saved for posterity - still as vibrant in color and taste, this photo is an insult to the real thing. I don't know why nettle pesto doesn't oxidize the way regular pesto will immediately after it's made (time lapse video anyone?) but my second batch is now 4 days old and still the color of lush green grass in the summertime. Good thing the Italians invented this!