The Duke of mayo

Some foods are more regal than others, so much so that they've been given royal titles. Thus, there is Chicken ala King, Duchess Potatoes, and anything labelled "a la reine," meaning in the style of the queen.

But as noble as any preparation is the iconic mayonnaise of the South — the aptly named Duke's mayonnaise, a product that enjoys the status of royalty below the Mason-Dixon Line.

With Americans annually eating a couple of billion dollars worth of what the British food writer Elizabeth David called a "beautiful shining golden ointment," mayonnaise has now surpassed ketchup in sales in the United States. (No wonder Amazon now sells a mayo knife shaped to the contour of a typical mayonnaise jar.)

So even though Duke's is only the third best selling mayonnaise in the country, the South Carolina company which produces it is nonetheless selling lots of jars, mainly because in the South, Duke's is the runaway best seller. There most folks would just as soon forego mayo altogether as settle for another brand.

Some suggest that Duke's has obtained cult status in the South, and, indeed, there are any number of Southerners who regard the stuff with religious fervor. For example, there was the man who on his deathbed requested a tomato sandwich, but insisted it had to be made with Duke's mayonnaise. Another went even further, asking that when he died he be cremated and his ashes placed in a Duke's jar. And more than one southern wedding reception has featured table centerpieces of flowers in empty Duke's jars.

Duke's mayonnaise has achieved almost cult status in the South, where it is often regarded with religious fervor.Tom Harte

Even celebrated chefs, such as Sean Brock, whose Charleston restaurant Husk was named by Bon Appetit magazine the best new restaurant in America a few years ago, admit to using Duke's at their restaurants. It's the one store-bought ingredient you might very well spot on the shelf of a walk-in cooler in the back of many other upscale restaurant kitchens in the South.

Clearly, Duke's is enjoying a distinguished reign as the mayonnaise monarch of the South, yet the person responsible for putting it on the throne was what royalists would call a commoner. She was an unassuming woman with an entrepreneurial streak, Eugenia Duke. She married her husband at the age of 18 and moved with him to Greenville, South Carolina, in 1900. To help with the war effort after America's entry into World War I, she began making egg salad and other sandwiches laced with her homemade mayonnaise and sold them for a dime each to soldiers at nearby Camp Sevier. They were a huge success, with sales numbering in the thousands. Before long it dawned on Eugenia that the secret to their success was her tangy mayonnaise. So she began selling it in jars and ended up with a business so booming she eventually was able to sell out to a large manufacturer. But even after a hundred years they still use her egg yolk enriched recipe.

That recipe has made Duke's more than a sandwich spread. (Don't even call it that. That's what Miracle Whip is.) It's a defining element of southern cuisine because it can be used not just to slather on sandwiches but in biscuits, chocolate cake, eggs, sauces, on broiled fish, as a browning agent, not to mention in chicken and egg salad and pimento cheese.

Duke's used to be hard to find outside the South, but happily is now available around the country, allowing more people to discover why in the kitchen Eugenia Duke always deserves a bow.

Southern Tomato Pie

A dish as iconic as Duke's mayonnaise itself. If you wish, roast the tomatoes first as a hedge against a watery pie. At the risk of giving the pie too northern a feel (northern Italian, that is) you can sprinkle Parmesan cheese on top before baking. The recipe is adapted from dukesmayo.com.

• 1 deep dish pie shell
• 4 to 6 fresh tomatoes
• 1 cup shredded cheddar cheese
• 1 cup Duke's mayonnaise
• garlic to taste
• basil to taste
• chopped onion to taste

Prebake pie shell and cool. Thickly slice tomatoes and arrange in pie shell to fill. Blend cheese, mayonnaise, garlic, basil, and onions. Spread over tomatoes. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 to 45 minutes until browned.