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Roasted Garlic Aioli -- The Condiment That Belongs Next to Every Piece of Grilled Fish

Two months old. The pediatrician is satisfied with everything—weight, reflexes, the small fierce way he grabs her finger. He got his two-month vaccines and screamed with a betrayed fury I found both distressing and extremely impressive in terms of lung capacity. Sean held him after and he calmed in about ninety seconds, which is Sean's particular gift—the ability to make people feel safer by just being still with them. I've known this about him for twelve years and it still undoes me sometimes.

Memorial Day weekend. We drove out to the Cape with Liam for a night, staying with Sean's cousin Fionnuala in Falmouth. I had not been in a car for more than twenty minutes with the baby and this trip taught me several things about Liam's relationship with car travel (he liked it, fell asleep at the Sagamore Bridge, woke up at the Falmouth exit, perfect) and about my own relationship with leaving Boston with a two-month-old (manageable, barely, with the amount of luggage we packed for one night that would embarrass me to disclose).

Fionnuala has two kids, six and nine, who treated Liam like a live interactive toy and circled him constantly with the energy of small dogs investigating something new. He seemed unbothered. Fionnuala grilled fish on Saturday evening—striped bass she'd bought from a guy on the dock that morning—and we ate on the porch with the salt air coming in and Liam asleep on a folded blanket between us and it was one of those evenings that'll be a story someday. First night away from home. He did great. We did fine.

Fionnuala’s striped bass was the kind of meal that doesn’t need much — salt air, a good porch, a sleeping baby — but what she set out alongside it, a simple roasted garlic aioli, was the thing I kept coming back to all night. I’ve made it twice since we got home, once with salmon and once just as a reason to buy a good baguette, and it’s become one of those things I want in my refrigerator at all times now that we’re the kind of people who drive to the Cape for the weekend.

Roasted Garlic Aioli

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 50 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

  • 1 whole head of garlic
  • 1 teaspoon olive oil (for roasting)
  • 3/4 cup mayonnaise
  • 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
  • 1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
  • 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus more to taste
  • 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
  • 1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
  • 1 teaspoon fresh flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped (optional, for serving)

Instructions

  1. Roast the garlic. Preheat your oven to 400°F. Slice the top 1/4 inch off the head of garlic to expose the cloves. Place it on a small square of foil, drizzle with 1 teaspoon olive oil, and wrap it up loosely. Roast for 35–40 minutes, until the cloves are deeply golden and completely soft. Let cool for 10 minutes.
  2. Squeeze out the cloves. Unwrap the garlic and squeeze the roasted cloves directly into a small bowl. They should slide out easily. Mash them with a fork into a smooth paste — a few small lumps are fine.
  3. Mix the aioli. Add the mayonnaise, lemon juice, Dijon mustard, salt, pepper, and extra-virgin olive oil to the bowl with the garlic paste. Stir everything together until fully combined and creamy.
  4. Taste and adjust. Taste the aioli and add more salt, lemon juice, or pepper as needed. The garlic flavor will be sweet and mellow rather than sharp — if you want more punch, add a small raw clove, pressed or grated in.
  5. Chill and serve. Transfer to a small jar or serving bowl and refrigerate for at least 20 minutes before serving to let the flavors come together. Serve alongside grilled fish, roasted vegetables, crusty bread, or as a sandwich spread. Garnish with parsley if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 145 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 16g | Carbs: 2g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 175mg

Kate Donovan
About the cook who shared this
Kate Donovan
Week 114 of Kate’s 30-year story · Boston, Massachusetts
Kate is a thirty-five-year-old nurse practitioner in Boston and a widowed mother of two whose husband Sean died of brain cancer at thirty-three. She makes Irish soda bread and beef stew and shepherd's pie because the recipes are all she has left of a man who was supposed to grow old with her. She writes about cooking through grief and finding out you can still feed your children on the worst day of your life.

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