The Duke’s War: A Mayonnaise Tale

Am I the only Southerner who has long questioned the undying brand commitment of Duke’s mayonnaise? 

As a woman who grew up in the mayonnaise-loving South, I never heard of the brand until my mid-20s. By the time I did, it was made clear it was the only brand any chef and/or food lover could use.

So I, too, committed to the brand, until last week -- when I noticed a new bottle in the mayo aisle: Sauer’s mayonnaise 1887 Richmond, Virginia. 

Certainly not iconic-looking, this new bottle was modern and had all the “cheap” marketing notes of a fighter label -- including a lower price than Duke’s. It has as many facings in our local store as Duke’s does; very unusual, considering Duke’s has top-tier placement in the competitive shelf landscape. If you are not familiar with the term "facings" it's the number of individual Skus of the identical product facing the aisle.

Strangest of all, I thought, it was merchandised next to Duke’s in a very prime location. Knowing what I know of retail, this is not an easy location to win and likely cost this new brand a fortune. I suspected a good story here, and I purchased a bottle. I love it when the food I buy or grow gives me a chance to dig deep into books, or down the rabbit hole of the internet. As it turns out, it all began with a Duke. Duke de Richelieu.

Before the Seven Years’ war was known as the Seven Years’ war, it was a battle on the island of Minorca in 1756. Trade was more important than ever, and Minorca was a very desirable port. The French wanted the valuable Spanish island, which had been occupied by the Brits since the early 1700s, so naturally they went to war over it. Enter Duke de Richelieu. He was a big deal back in the day, and became more so after he beat the British at Port Mahon in that very first battle of the Seven Years’ war. 

We all know the French love to eat, and to keep the troops happy the Duke brought a French chef who was single-handedly responsible for preparing the victory feast. Not finding any cream on the island for his popular eggs and cream dish, he substituted local Mahon olive oil and whisked with salt, egg yolk and lemon juice and voila! A new culinary creation was born. The chef named the new sauce "Mahonnaise" after the port where the battle was won, in honor of the Duke’s victory against the British. And there you have it.

So how did the small hand-made sauce become “Big Mayo?” 

Fast-forward the industrial revolution: factories learned to develop all kinds of short shelf-life goods, like house-made mayo, and bottle them for distribution around the country. Many brands we see on the shelf today are nearly a century old: Hellman’s from New York in 1913, Blue Plate from New Orleans in 1927, Duke’s in Charlotte in 1923 and Sauer’s in Richmond in 1929. I’ll bet you thought I wasn’t going to get back to Sauers. That bottle of mayonnaise so well placed on the shelf is the original owner, after Mrs. Duke of the Duke’s brand since 1929. 

In 1887, on his 21st birthday, C. F. Sauer founded the company that still bears his name. He had worked in a pharmacy in his youth and noticed a market need: ready-made extracts for the home cook.

He was ambitious and successful, and by the time he was in his 40s, Sauer owned the largest extract company in the country -- and was looking to expand. As luck would have it, Eugenia Duke was ready to sell her Greenville, South Carolina mayonnaise operation. Mrs. Duke was looking to get back to what she was passionate about, making sandwiches to sell, and spending more time with her daughter.  

Fast forward again to 2019: the Falfurrias Capital Partners of Charlotte, North Carolina purchased both the Duke’s and Sauer’s brands. They saw an opportunity to introduce Sauers into the marketplace as a new “Southern mayo” to compete against Duke’s at a competitive price point. If you try them both together side-by-side, you’ll agree they taste very similar. So what do the pros think?

I went to work to interview chefs I know in Atlanta -- the real deal, real craftsmen, whose talent is second to none. First, I asked my Southern chef husband, who hails from Virginia about his childhood and mayonnaise. “We didn’t really eat mayo as a kid, and if we did, it was Miracle Whip.” Cameron never heard of the brand as a child.

His best friend Andy, chef and restaurateur of Steinbeck’s and The Companion, shared similar memories: “I grew up using Miracle Whip, which is what my family called “mayonnaise.” It’s sort of like mayo but much sweeter and contains high-fructose corn syrup. It’s pretty gross in retrospect, but you grow up eating certain things and you get used to it. 

“I didn’t really discover mayo until I started cooking in my 20’s. Dean Dupuis, my Executive Chef at South City, was the one who showed me the magic of Duke’s. I now consider it a transformative kind of food lube. Can you imagine a BLT without mayo? It’s blasphemy.”

How popular is mayo in restaurants? According to Andy, “Most of our guests like mayo or at least like what it does for our food. The Steinbeck Burger is Pimiento Cheese, Applewood Smoked Bacon & Pickled Jalape?o. You can’t make Pimiento Cheese without mayo. The Tower of Power that was on the cover of Atlanta Magazine has “Million Island” which is a blend of capers, onions, garlic, Worcestershire, hot sauce, Duke’s and ketchup. Both are dependent on Duke’s. Our Lobster Roll at The Companion is laced with Duke’s. I’m certainly brand loyal.”

Speaking of Pimento cheese, Duke’s partnered The Southern Foodways Alliance to produce a documentary on the South’s love of Pimento cheese, and its binding staple, Duke’s mayo. If you like cheesy documentaries about food, click here Pimento Cheese Movie https://vimeo.com/31515064. 

According to Grubhub, mayonnaise is the add-on most GrubHub users request alongside their burger delivery orders. And after a steady mayo decline in the decade between 2011 and 2019, blamed on millennials searching for new flavors (how many things can you put sriracha on?), the “Big Mayo” brands once again are a household super star, Unilever, parent company of Hellman’s has declared a 17 percent sales growth in 2019 of their creamy condiment. Mayo is definitely back.

Duke’s continues to be a brand that has mass appeal, and a Southern staple. And speaking of Hellman’s, how do the two compare? According to North Carolina author Susan Stafford Kelly, 

“Duke’s is definitely creamier. It doesn’t perch on the knife blade, like Hellmann’s does … Duke’s is definitely yellower, a more suspect color than Hellmann’s vanilla-white. A minus … the main difference, very simply, lies in the aroma. Duke’s is tarter, with a more distinctive, almost vinegary, smell. Hellmann’s is more neutral … Someone will immediately claim to prefer the “saltier, more citric” taste of Hellmann’s. Or point out that Duke’s contains no sugar.”

Now fully engulfed in the question of mayo, I am ever so curious what position Sauer’s will take as a less expensive fighter brand made by the same company as Duke’s. I will keep you posted; as of now, on the question of mayonnaise brand-where will these sister brands Duke's and Sauer's mayonnaise go in this new competitive field?

My name is Hannah Thompson. I live in Jackson, Georgia with my husband, 3 chickens, 3 cats and 2 adorable dogs. I garden our acre "hobby farm" and intend to enjoy this precious gift called life. Currently the garden has more bounty than I could have ever dreamed. If you are into gardening, I am always up for a chat!

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