Craving an anarchic salad this summer? Look no further than America’s Midwest, where anything goes. In lovingly lumpy—and often gelatinous—brouhahas of aspics, gelatin puddings, and canned fruits, Midwestern salads are as iconic as they are controversial. Rather than defining them by what they are, it is much easier to explain what they are not. Midwestern salads are not your typical leafy ensemble of green mixes, nor do they possess any crunchy wedges. Really, they’re pretty much anything outside the pedantic boundaries of what non-Midwesterners might define as a “salad.”
For me, Midwestern salads were a staple long before I understood their regional quirks. My mother used to pebble-chop apples, carrots, celery, cucumbers, and hard-boiled eggs—folding them into a mayonnaise-y mash that defied categorization but always showed up at potlucks and family dinners.
It should come as no surprise, then, that within the vast world of Midwestern salads, the more savory ones remain a core part of my own dinner-party zeitgeist. In fact, I love bringing some mid-century pea salads and potato-bowl numbers to impress skeptics at the barbecue. But somewhere along the way, I discovered a new ingredient that makes every one of these traditional recipes something new—and it revolves around the very component that unites every bound salad: mayonnaise. For your next bowl of heartland hospitality: swap your Hellman’s and Miracle Whip for some Kewpie.
Still, within the vast world of Midwestern salads, the more savory ones have broken into my personal dinner-party zeitgeist. There’s nothing like polishing off some mid-century pea salad or serving a potato-bowl number at the family barbecue.
So here’s a tip for serving your next bowl of heartland hospitality: swap your Hellman’s and Miracle Whip for some Kewpie.
Sara Haas
What Is Kewpie Mayonnaise?
Similar to midwestern salads, mayonnaise can be a bit polarizing. Personally, I’ve never understood the hate. What’s not to love about a textural sensation of eggy, buttery, goodness? I’d grown up in a Hellman’s family myself, slathering sandwiches and swathing salads with the stuff. It wasn’t until later in life, however, that I discovered Hellman’s turbo-charged counterpart.
Kewpie mayonnaise, the denser, tangier offshoot of its American predecessor, has now been around for exactly a century. Founded by Toichiro Nakashima, who had developed a fascination with Western potato salads while working in America and Britain, Kewpie was created as a nutritious and tasty way to improve Japanese pantries. Unlike the original mayonnaise recipe, which uses both egg whites and yolks, Kewpie uses just the latter, making it thick, custard-like, and an absolute delight. It has ascended to star status in recent years, appearing in recipes across home cooking and restaurant menus alike. And within the world of Japanese mayonnaise that Kewpie has created, there are even more variants. The American version of Kewpie, for one, does not contain MSG (which could stand for either monosodium glutamate or, as one of my friends says, the “make-stuff-good” powder). Korean Ottogi Gold mayonnaise is also MSG free and has a simpler, thinner flavor profile with fewer ingredients. For me, though, Kewpie—and MSG—remain king.
Japanese mayonnaise will, indeed, elevate all your favorite salads. So the next time you head to the supermarket, consider a new culinary faction—and reach for the Kewpie instead of the Hellman’s. And expect your next Midwestern moment to be a wholly new, delightfully different dish.
Recipes to Try with Kewpie
For each and every bound salad you know how to make, there’s an even better Kewpie version. And with plenty of summer still left, it’s as good a time as ever to impress your potluck crowd with a fresh, new offering—say, a Japanese Potato Salad that’s creamy, tangy, and unexpectedly craveable. If you find the umami too overwhelmingly delicious (it happens), try cutting it with a few slivers of apple or celery—à la Waldorf Salad. Want a little more body? Ironically, the answer is eggs. You could fold them into a Kewpie-rich riff on a Classic Macaroni Salad, or go full sandwich mode with a Japanese Egg Salad Sandwich. Of course, there’s no shame in leaning into retro comfort either—a chilled scoop of Old Fashioned Pea Salad still hits the spot.
Bound by Mayo, Not by Rules
Maybe the real treasure was the salads we made along the way. I’ve entirely insinuated that Midwestern salads are not to be dissociated from chaos—a truth by which I still stand. But as turbulent as these dishes may seem, they’re vibrant, richly American parts of our cultural appetite. For all their randomness, they endure: a mix of diasporic flavors, new ingredients, and old traditions. Today, I still make my mom’s version—just with Kewpie.
