Trempó, not trampó; Mahonesa, not mayonnaise. When words are also part of our gastronomic heritage

Bep Al·lès/Ciutadella - Gastronomy is not only about what we eat. It is also culture, history, territory, memory and language. The names of dishes tell us where we come from and, very often, give us clues about the way our ancestors cooked, seasoned or preserved food. That is why it is important to call things by their proper names. One of the clearest examples is the Mallorcan trempó, which all too often appears on restaurant menus, tourist menus and even in bakeries as “trampó”.

Trempó is one of the most representative salads of Mallorcan cuisine, traditionally prepared with tomato, green pepper and onion, while some also add capers and red pepper, all finely chopped and properly dressed with olive oil, a little vinegar and salt. This is precisely where its name comes from: trempó derives from the Catalan verb trempar, meaning to season or dress food, to bring the ingredients to the right point so that the whole dish achieves balance and flavour.

Therefore, writing “trampó” is not simply a charming or popular variation of the name. It disconnects the dish from the very word that explains its essence. If we trempam this kind of salad, what we eat is trempó. “Trampó” conveys no gastronomic meaning and is a distortion that has gradually spread, probably encouraged by the incorrect reproduction of the word on menus and food displays.

The same applies to another word that, from Menorca, we should defend with particular conviction: mahonesa. All too often we write “maionesa” or “mayonnaise”, forgetting the historical link between the sauce and Maó, and with the French conquest of Menorca in 1756. Tradition connects the popularisation of the sauce with the capture of the port of Maó by French troops commanded by the Duke of Richelieu, giving rise to the name mahonnaise, which later evolved into mayonnaise in French.

We may debate —and historians and researchers of gastronomy have done so at great length— the exact details surrounding the birth of the sauce, but what cannot be denied is the strength of its historical and etymological connection with Maó and Menorca. For that reason, using mahonesa is also a way of preserving and asserting this heritage.

Exactly the same is true of trempó. When a bakery advertises a coca de trempó, it is not simply selling a savoury flatbread. It is keeping alive a name, a recipe and a Mediterranean way of understanding food.

Words are also part of our culinary repertoire. Preserving them means preserving our gastronomic culture. So let us defend them without hesitation: trempó, not trampó; mahonesa, not mayonnaise. Because at the table, too, every word matters.