Mayonnaise has a lineage that is easy to see its lineage: a family tree of exquisite, aristocratic sauces that might claim this very common descendant as its own only in hushed tones, refusing to admit anything they bore could be scooped from a plastic jug, mixed with unsophisticated ingredients or tossed into, my word, casseroles.
From our tomato sandwiches to our salads, adding mayo seems bone deep in our impulses. Pimento cheese is a kind of grand and final submission to the mayonnaise gods.
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