Aioli Sauce, or Provence Butter

Aïoli (Provence butter) teaches emulsion in its purest, most uncompromising form. The one true thing to know before you touch the mortar is this: every addition of oil must disappear into the yolk and garlic before the next arrives. Rush that bargain and the sauce loosens into grease; honor it and the pestle leaves a clean furrow in a glossy, ivory-gold cream strong enough to carry a whole platter of vegetables and fish.

The original entry assumed a heavy mortar, a pestle, and a saucier free to keep one hand circling while the other fed half a pint of oil in a thread. Unlike many brigade formulas, that quantity already suits a home table, so I have kept it intact rather than inflating it into a service bucket. I changed only the notation, giving the ounce and half-pint as modern measures and setting aside tiny measured reserves of lemon and cold water. The dedicated saucier is scaffolding; the pounding and patient beginning are the dish. One cook, one stove, one evening, though the stove stays cold.

Keep the spare yolk nearby, not as a charm but as insurance. If the emulsion separates, ça se rattrape: begin again with that clean yolk and feed the broken sauce back into it slowly. The first two tablespoons of oil are the moment that matters, so add them in literal drops and don't move to a thread until the sauce grips the pestle.