Growing up, we buttered our bread.
Sometimes we'd put peanut butter and jelly on it.
Once in a while, for lunch, my mom would fix us bologna sandwiches--and if money were flowing freely--we'd get cheese and lettuce on them. The sandwich was made with white bread, a thin layer of mayonnaise, bologna, and the occasional luxuries. That was it.
Mayonnaise was always topped with other things, in my experience. I never ever thought of it as a stand-alone condiment, like butter.
My husband, however, grew up eating what they called "mayonnaise bread." It was simple: mayonnaise on bread. Nothing added--and not just because they were poor, but because they loved mayonnaise bread.
In fact, I didn't say "Ick!" right away, because I thought he was building his sandwich from the ground up, with a mayo foundation. To my horror, he lathered that bread up with white caps of mayo, put the knife in the sink, put the Hellman's away, and proceeded to chow down.
"What are you doing?" I asked, half shocked.
"I'm eating mayonnaise bread."
"You mean mayonnaise ON bread? Are you so hungry you can't add a slice of turkey and maybe some lettuce?"
He informed me that this was a family tradition he grew up with and that I should try it.
No, thank you! It's not complete and it looks gross. Besides, we're a new family. We can start our own traditions.
And we did. It's called he eats mayonnaise bread and I don't and whaddya know? It's been 26 years since we started that tradition and we're still together.
Lesson learned: What's good for the goose isn't necessarily good for the gander, at least as the goose defines "good."