The Long Reign of Belgian Mayonnaise 

Mayonnaise is known all around the world; a thick, creamy sauce used to dress sandwiches, burgers, and salads. But few nations have taken it to their hearts in the same way as the Belgians. The relationship between Belgians and their mayonnaise is tied up in their fanatical “frituur” culture and in a law which has made Belgian mayonnaise special. But in the face of complex commercial challenges and a generational change in eating habits, can the Belgians preserve their extraordinary mayonnaise heritage?

I.

Protest

In 2014, Belgian Prime Minister Charles Michel was addressing a business forum in the city of Namur when two women threw fries at him and squirted him with mayonnaise. His jacket, shirt, and tie were covered with long waves of white creamy sauce, and several artful splatterings of mayonnaise adorned the curvature of his bald head. The two women, protesting government austerity cuts with feminist activist group LilithS, were eventually removed by security, and after taking a few moments to collect himself and change his suit, Michel returned to the podium. The first thing he did was apologise to the business delegates for smelling like mayonnaise. 

The two women were protesting an increase in the retirement age, the scrapping of plans for a cost-of-living raise, and an introduction of public sector cutbacks. Perhaps they chose to throw fries and mayonnaise because the combination represents a powerful national symbol, as if thrusting Belgium itself into the face of power as a rejection of the government. Or maybe a cone of fries and mayo was the nearest weapon to hand. Whatever the reason, the bizarre incident in Namur made international headlines. If you want to make a statement in Belgium, you throw mayonnaise on the Prime Minister. 

Despite the fact that it’s produced globally, few other countries around the world are as closely associated with mayonnaise as Belgium. Belgian mayonnaise has traditionally been richer, more full-textured, and more intensely flavoured than mayonnaise in other countries—a qualitative element enshrined in law in the form of decrees signed by the King of Belgium. But another of the reasons mayonnaise is so popular is because of Belgium’s frituur culture.

Frituren in Dutch, or fritures in French are often found on main highways and in town squares and can be restaurants with table service, small kiosks with big reputations, or even converted vans parked up near a café. They sell “double-fried method” frietjes, or Belgian fries, often served in large cardboard cones, whilst the sauce most regularly accompanying them is mayonnaise. This combination is so popular that there have been several attempts by Belgians to have Belgium’s frietjes and mayonnaise culture recognised together on the UNESCO list of intangible cultural heritage. 

Arthus de Bousies, originally from Hansbeke in East Flanders, had been working for six years in a sales and export role at Belgian chocolate company Dolfin when he discovered that an artisanal Belgian mayonnaise company was up for sale. He visited the small operation in Florêt, a tiny house with a shop at the front, production in the back, and offices in the middle of a bathroom and kitchen. Nothing had been invested and the company wasn’t even using computers. But they had “an amazing product,” according to de Bousies: “high-end, natural mayonnaise.” In March of 2012, de Bousies quit his job at Dolfin, and by June, he was the owner of a mayonnaise brand called Natura.

“My grandmother used to make it this way,” says De Bousies of the techniques deployed by the company he had purchased—a few simple ingredients; a primitive beating apparatus; very small batches. When Belgians celebrate mayonnaise, they’re celebrating their childhoods, and their families, and their towns. Belgians are drawn to the defiant and esoteric in their cuisine—think Lambic, Chicory, and Grey Shrimp—and mayonnaise is no different. It’s almost mythical. In fact, from a food science perspective, mayonnaise shouldn’t really exist at all. 

II. 

Science

Mayonnaise almost certainly isn’t Belgian. The most common theories about its origin are that it’s named for either Port Mahon on the Spanish island of Menorca, or perhaps for French regions Bayonne, Magnon, or Mayenne. Other claims suggest it’s related to French or Old French verbs such as magner or manier (“to handle”), moyeux or moyen (“egg yolk”), or mailler (“to beat”). Nevertheless, the Belgians have fallen in love with it.

To understand the secrets of mayonnaise, you have to speak to French chef and filmmaker Alex Aïnouz. In 2020, Aïnouz produced a series of videos entitled “Mother Sauces”, broadcast on his Youtube channel French Guy Cooking with its 1.83 million subscribers. In Episode 11 of the series, he demonstrated the science behind making the perfect mayonnaise, describing it as “the greatest sauce ever invented.” Mayonnaise is an incredibly simple combination of liquids which somehow transform themselves into a thick creamy sauce without any cooking or any artificial bonding agents. “It’s something that is not supposed to happen,” Aïnouz tells me on a call from his Paris studio.

The ingredients of mayonnaise are made up mostly of water (egg yolk, vinegar, and mustard, in Aïnouz’s example) and oil. But water and oil don’t mix. Water molecules are “polar” and oil molecules are “non-polar”. In his video, Aïnouz demonstrates this by pouring water and oil together into a jar and watching as the oil sits on top of the water. He shakes the jar, and they mix for a while, but they separate again. “In the end, a water and oil emulsion will always break,” he says in the video. “Unless, of course, you use an emulsifier.”

Enter lecithin. Coming from the Greek lekithos, meaning “yolk”, lecithin is a substance which bonds water and oil. It’s naturally occurring in egg yolk and it’s the reason mayonnaise exists at all. It’s sometimes used as a health supplement, with clinical studies showing benefits in treating acne, improving liver function, and in lowering cholesterol. It’s also used as a food additive, controlling sugar crystallisation in chocolate, stabilising spreads such as margarines, and protecting yeast cells in dough before baking. “Lecithin is one amazing and quite potent emulsifier,” says Aïnouz to camera in his video.

Aïnouz continues mixing the water components—the egg yolk, vinegar, and mustard—together in a bowl. “What we’re about to do is very counter-intuitive,” he says. “To make that liquid more solid, we’re going to add more liquid.” He slowly adds the oil and the lecithin begins to emulsify the ingredients so that the mix gradually solidifies into a thick, creamy sauce. “I used liquid ingredients and no cooking,” he says. Aïnouz drops a knife into the sauce, and the knife stands upright, as if thrust into a block of cheese. On our call, Aïnouz offers up a final, memorable description of mayonnaise: “It’s like nature’s wonder.” 

III. 

Cornerstone

Belgians eat more fries per capita than any other nation and Belgium is the world’s biggest exporter of frozen fries. There are in the region of 4,500 frituren in Belgium, essentially a frietjes kiosk for every 2,500 people in the country—the highest number of frituurs per capita in Europe. Every Belgian village has one. The quality standards and ubiquity of Belgium’s rich frituur culture have even managed to fend off fast food chains that have infiltrated other nations: Belgium, for example, has one of the lowest proportions of McDonald’s restaurants per inhabitant in the developed world. 

Of the sauces on offer in Belgian frituren, mayonnaise leads the way. According to Belgium’s National Union of Frituristen, mayonnaise is chosen with frietjes 40% of the time (ketchup is chosen only 9% of the time in comparison).  

Wanting to talk to someone at the coal face of mayonnaise culture in Belgium, I pay a visit to De Blauwe Frituur, a highly regarded frietkot in the West Flemish city of Kortirjk. De Blauwe Frituur was named the Best Frietkot in Belgium by the organisation BestFrit in 2018. Kris Vanhaerents started the business twenty-one years ago after selling a small meat company and is today assisted in the running of the business by his daughter Ulrike Vanhaerents and her partner Lawrence Mellebeek.

Mellebeek says that mayonnaise is the perfect accompaniment to fries. “Fries are crunchy on the outside and you taste the potato inside, but they do not have a lot of flavour,” he says. “The mayonnaise has the fattiness, and also the sourness, and a little bit of sweetness.” He presents me with mayonnaise and frietjes, but then, one by one, he plates up other sauces alongside the frietjes and we discuss the popularity and profile of each. 

The first sauce, which is made from mayonnaise, is De Blauwe Frituur’s famous homemade tartar sauce—the recipe for which, according to Vanhaerents, is “top secret”—a moderately thick and eggy sauce which most likely also contains onions, capers, and a bunch of herbs. Then there is the Andalouse sauce, essentially mayonnaise made with tomato paste and mixed with crushed, roasted red bell peppers. Cocktail sauce is next, a combination of mayonnaise, ketchup, and whiskey. 

The sauces keep coming. Diablo sauce is mayonnaise mixed with red-pepper puree. Samourai sauce is mayonnaise mixed with ketchup and harissa hot chilli paste. Americain sauce is andalouse sauce flavoured with carrots, celery, and onion. Joppie sauce is mayonnaise with mild curry spices. 

Not only is mayonnaise the sauce most asked for in the culinary cornerstone that is the Belgian frituur, but it’s the basis of almost all other sauces that make the frituur experience what it is. 

IV. 

Royal Decree

In producing mayonnaise at his newly acquired company, Arthus De Bousies wanted to preserve the traditional way of making mayonnaise, and not use “all sorts of e-numbers and thickening materials,” that he saw listed on the products of other companies. 

He started with mustard and lightly salted free-range egg yolks, turning the mixture with small, country-kitchen-esque dough beaters. “It’s basically the same as if you would whip it at home,” he says, but in “batches of 25 kilos”. He gradually added his sunflower oil and, at the end, his vinegar. Part of the reason his recipe was rich and full-flavoured was because it followed the requirements of Belgium’s mayonnaise law.

On 12 April 1955, the King of Belgium signed a Royal Decree on trade in mayonnaise (Stbl. 16.IV.1955). For a sauce to be sold in Belgium using the name “mayonnaise”, the product was required to contain at least 80% fat (edible vegetable oil) and 7.5% egg yolk (chicken eggs). These requirements were much higher than the requirement for mayonnaise in other countries, largely due to Belgium’s desire to maintain traditional methods and flavour standards in the production of its mayonnaise. 

Guidelines issued in September 1991 by Europe’s Federation of the Condiment Sauce Industries, however, recommended that mayonnaise should contain at least 70% fat and 5% liquid egg yolk. Most European nations followed the 70% fat and 5% egg yolk recommendations. US mayonnaise, to take another example, needs only to contain 65% fat.

While the 1955 decree maintained a quality standard in Belgian mayonnaise that would set it apart from other countries, it also disadvantaged Belgian producers of mayonnaise. The 1955 decree could only be enforced against Belgian producers of mayonnaise and not against those from other countries selling mayonnaise in Belgium. Dutch and Spanish producers of mayonnaise needed only to meet the requirements of their own countries, and through European laws relating to freedom of movement of goods and mutual recognition, could sell their sauce in Belgium as mayonnaise even though it did not meet the standards of the 1955 decree. Belgians didn’t like it, but the evolving European laws left them with few options.

A Dutch producer could legally sell a sauce with 70% oil and 5% egg yolk as mayonnaise in Belgium while a Belgian producer making a sauce to the same standards would not be permitted by the decree to sell it in their own country as mayonnaise. Instead, they would be required to give it another name, such as “salad dressing”. Belgians don’t ask for salad dressing on their frietjes.

By 2015, the Belgian mayonnaise sector was facing an existential dilemma. If they were to lower the standards of Belgian mayonnaise so that it could be sold with a lower fat and egg yolk content, then Belgian mayonnaise would become less rich, less unique, and less special. Belgian chefs, consumer groups, and smaller mayonnaise producers warned against lowering the standards and diluting their mayonnaise heritage. 

On the other hand, if the mayonnaise sector in Belgium did nothing, then foreign producers would continue selling mayonnaise in Belgium in a way which might eat substantial portions of market share, leaving Belgian producers in the cold commercially. There were potentially catastrophic long-term effects.

Desperate for a solution, Belgium’s Deputy Prime Minister Kris Peeters called a meeting of sector representatives in 2015 to discuss the issue of mayonnaise. The future of Belgium’s most loved sauce was on the line.

V. 

 Cutting the Fat

At the time Belgian Deputy Prime Minister Kris Peeters was leading discussions about a change to the legal definitions of mayonnaise, the sauce was facing several other challenges. 

Younger Belgians have become much more health-aware than previous generations, taking note of the fat content of products in their shopping. Veganism was on the rise, with increasing numbers of young people shunning products containing eggs. There were also misconceptions about the levels of cholesterol in mayonnaise (it’s actually quite low—it’s the high fat content that links it to diets with risk of increased levels of cholesterol in the blood).

Another issue mayonnaise companies were facing was that people sometimes believed it to be the cause of food poisoning at summer barbecues. It stems from the risks inherent in making homemade mayonnaise, where eggs might be unpasteurised, increasing the danger of intestinal infection by salmonella. 

In reality, commercial mayonnaise is always produced with pasteurised eggs, and it always contains acid which kills bacteria and extends shelf-life. A study published in the Journal of Food Protection in 1982 found that when commercial mayonnaise was mixed with contaminated meat, the mayonnaise slowed—or even stopped—the production of salmonella and other bacteria. The problem comes when mayonnaise is mixed with other foods which then changes the acid level and creates an environment more inviting to bacteria.

Peeters’ discussions concluded that it just wouldn’t be commercially fair to prevent Belgian producers from competing with foreign mayonnaise producers who imported their mayonnaise. In a new Royal Decree regarding mayonnaise signed by the King of Belgium on 26 May 2016 (B.S. 10.VI.2016), mayonnaise was redefined: the composition of mayonnaise under the 2016 decree was required to be at least 70% fat content and 5% pure egg yolk. 

But importantly, it was also agreed during those discussions that another legal definition should be established to protect Belgium’s mayonnaise heritage. The 2016 decree created a second class of mayonnaise, one requiring a higher standard: “The term ‘traditional’ or a derivative thereof may be used in combination with the name ‘mayonnaise’ provided the product has a minimum total fat content of 80% and a technically pure egg yolk content of at least 7.5%.”

So now, there were two classes of mayonnaise in Belgium: “mayonnaise”, sometimes referred to as “basic mayonnaise” or “normal mayonnaise” (at least 70% fat and 5% egg yolk); and “traditional mayonnaise” (at least 80% fat and 7.5% egg yolk). 

Belgian producers could now decide whether they wanted to be normal or traditional.

VI. 

Blind Tasting

In 2017, the national Walloon radio and television network RTBF announced it would be staging  a competition: Quelle est la meilleure mayonnaise de Belgique? Le test à l’aveugle: “Which is the best mayonnaise of Belgium? A blind test”.

Arthus de Bousies saw the announcement on Facebook and suggested they also include mayonnaise from his small mayonnaise company, Natura. The organisers of the RTBF taste test responded to de Bousies’ message and asked him to bring a jar of Natura to the tasting at one particular frituur. When he arrived, he learned that he was to be on the panel to blindly taste eight different mayonnaises. Some of the mayonnaises were from large global corporations such as Unilever; others were well-known supermarket brands. “I’d honestly never done a blind tasting in my life,” said de Bousies. “I was really scared that I wouldn’t recognise it.”

For each of the eight rounds, a cone of frietjes was delivered with a large dollop of mayonnaise on top. When the cameras started rolling, de Bousies began sweating. He didn’t want his Natura mayonnaise to perform badly in the taste test. But he also didn’t want to misidentify his own mayonnaise for fear of being humiliated. “The first five obviously weren’t mine,” he says. “I was thinking that if I can’t find it, I have to change job or go into hiding for a few years because it will be ridiculous.”

Then the sixth mayonnaise came. 

“I tasted it straight away and had a big smile on my face,” says de Boisies. 

Natura mayonnaise is generally much less sweet than the mayonnaise of larger producers, and is a thicker sauce than many others, its mouthfeel similar to that of a grandmother’s homemade mayonnaise. By now located in a new, marginally larger facility in Tubize, Natura was a traditional mayonnaise with an oil content of 82%, more than the original requirements of the 1955 decree. So that he could safeguard the richness and intensity of his sauce, De Bousies didn’t change anything about his recipe when the new mayonnaise decree was signed in 2016. “In terms of quality,” he said of the change to Belgium’s mayonnaise tradition, “I think we’re taking a step back.” 

After the eight mayonnaises had been tasted, the results were announced on national radio and television. Natura mayonnaise came in first place, scoring 8.5 out of 10. In joint second place was a homemade mayonnaise prepared by the owner of the host frituur and an Italian mayonnaise called Bertoli (both 6 out of 10). In eighth and last place was Devos-Lemmens light, the only light mayonnaise in the line-up (3/10), a mayonnaise produced by an historic Belgian company which is now a part of the Continental Foods Group. Natura received coverage on prime time TV and enjoyed a spike in interest in their products. 

There’s still an argument whether recent changes to the law in Belgium will result in a race to the bottom, or whether the two definitions will allow Belgian producers of mayonnaise to preserve their tradition while remaining competitive. 

But the RTBF tasting demonstrates that not only do many Belgians still prefer the richer mayonnaises which more resemble homemade versions of yesteryear, but that it might just be possible for small artisanal mayonnaise companies like Natura to thrive in an increasingly competitive market. 

There will always be a place for traditional mayonnaise at the Belgian family barbecue. 

There will always be a place for traditional mayonnaise in the thousands of frituurs around the country. 

There will always be a place for mayonnaise in Belgium, even if it’s all over the balding head of their Prime Minister.

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