Little Miss Mayonnaise Caesar Salad

So last Friday, that day of torrential rains, I made a triple batch of Caesar salad for Steak and Martini night at Rancho Lando. It's my signature dish--the fallback crowd-pleasing vat of salad I kind of invented over the course of a summer a few years back. I had to learn to make mayonnaise first, and because I'm a bit backward when it comes to appliances I learned to make mayo with a whisk. I tell myself it tastes better. Plus you get a great upper arm workout. Plus it's the closest thing to magic I've ever experienced--turning olive oil and a raw (yes, raw and get over it) egg into the unctious base of a good salad dressing or a delicious dip for roasted or raw vegetables or slathered on bread in a sandwich. Fucking A! That whole summer I made batch after batch of mayo--sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. I'm not a chef and I've never really worked in a restaurant except for that unfortunate experience at the Buttercup Corral in Hillsboro, circa 1976--I never could make the Softserv machine bend to my will. I do love to cook and I do love to make things from nothing and I am always on a tight leash money-wise. Here's the directions for the Caesar Salad but stop with just the mayo if you want:
Lolo's Little Miss Mayo Caesar Salad
The trick is the temperature—everything should be warm as a summer’s day so put that egg in a cup of hot tap water and warm it up or better yet--we're in Portland after all--ask a neighbor for a fresh, warm egg.
First make you some aioli (garlicky mayo) with a couple of crushed garlic cloves that you chopped fine with a big pinch of kosher salt. You scrape that stinking mess into a shallow bowl where you can get some good whippage going. You crack an egg—dumping the white down the sink like a jogger’s snot and the yolk goes in the bowl with the garlic. Start to whisk. It will get sticky and kind of tacky and then you dribble in a little olive oil and when that’s starting to look mayonaissey you add some more in a golden stream—like an old dude with prostrate troubles––not too much at a time. Eventually you should have about a cup of mayo in your shallow bowl looking all smug and wiggly. Now squeeze the juice of a whole lemon or two in there and think of Led Zepplin—maybe you have that album or cd and you should go find it and play it while you whisk a bit more. The mayo turns a lovely whitey lemony color. You can stop there, if you want and make a tomato sandwich with the mayo, or toss it with roasted veggies and hot pasta or you can carry on for the promised land.
Chop up as much anchovy as you can stand—I like a lot––and I drain the oil from them in, too. Thin it out with a bit of hot water and taste it—I like to rinse a few capers and toss them in, but you don’t have to. Let this sit and tear up some romaine in your favorite salad bowl. And don’t forget the croutons—I like mine sourdough and fried in more olive oil and cooled and then right when you’re ready to sit down toss the dressing, lettuce, croutons and freshly grated parm all together (I get the bag of mixed grated cheese from Pastaworks--it's expensive but I don't use much). Put the salad on a plate and have Pepper Boy--or Girl standing by. Pour you a big ass glass of white wine—take a long, cool drink of that mischief and have at it!