Cookbooks

The first incarnation of this dish did not include rice. Tasting it over and over again, I knew it needed a final element that would bring its flavors into harmony: nutty farro, meaty bass, pungent green garlic, sweet pea shoots, tart tangerines. I racked my brain for just the right thing, then remembered a sample of black rice I had stashed in my desk drawer weeks before. I had little experience with black rice—varieties of rice whose kernels are covered by extremely dark bran. The black rice I found was grown in the salt marshes of the Veneto, so I cooked it in an Italian style. As I would for risotto, I sautéed the rice in olive oil to seal the outer layer and toast it slightly. Then I deglazed with white wine, added water, and let it simmer away. When the rice was done, I found it solved my problem perfectly. The rice’s marshy origins gave it a subtle oceany taste, complementing the fresh fish and giving the entire dish a springtime-by-the sea coherence. What’s more, there was a visual bonus: the black rice was gorgeous to behold, coated in its own deep purple sauce.

Part Indian, somewhat Moroccan, a little bit French, and vaguely Slavic, this dish is a true mutt. Arranged on a bed of vibrant herbed rice and topped with spiced cucumbers, this snapper takes you into a world where hot, sour, sweet, and salty exist harmoniously.

Dungeness crabs are caught off the Pacific coast, from the tip of Alaska to as far south as Baja California, during the cold-water months of November to early June. If you’re not on the West Coast or can’t find Dungeness crabs, look for stone, peekytoe, or blue crabs. And if you’re short on time, purchase the crabs already cooked, cracked, and cleaned from a good fishmonger. If you’re feeling less extravagant or can’t get to the fish market, a crabless version of this dish makes a pretty good salad, too.

One year while researching ideas for our St. Patrick’s Sunday supper, I discovered that the Irish obsession with potatoes is not a myth. Page after page of old Irish “cookery books” reveal numerous formulas for the tuber, with whimsical names for each. I fell for champ, an Irish version of mashed potatoes flavored with a handful of finely sliced scallions. Since it was spring, I skipped the scallions and used lots of sliced green garlic instead. But the Irish don’t live on potatoes alone; seafood is actually the backbone of their diet. So I decided to celebrate their patron saint with something from the sea. I found lots of recipes for fish as well as tiny clams known as cockles. Trying to bring these Irish specialties together, I steamed the cockles with white wine and butter and then spooned them over the creamy green garlic champ. And what more Irish way to sop up those briny juices than with a savory brown scone?

Super-green watercress makes the perfect starter to a St. Patrick’s Day dinner. One St. Patrick’s Day at Lucques, in order not to lose the bright, vivid green color and fresh lively taste of the watercress, I decided to make the soup to order. Rather than cooking the watercress, I planned to wilt it with hot vegetable stock and then purée it with tarragon, parsley, chives, and a touch of cream. As that night approached, the restaurant was booked solid, and I began to worry about my made-to-order soup scheme, but Daniel Mattern, my equally obsessive sous-chef, insisted we go for it in spite of the anticipated 180 reservations. He recruited the waitstaff to bring their blenders from home, and organized his new found equipment into a lean, mean soup station as if it were business as usual. That night, all 180 bowls of soup were made to order and managed to arrive at the tables pipinghot. Dan must have had the luck of the Irish because he pulled it off without a hitch. Served with an anchovy toast, this “à la minute” soup is great any day of the year.

Look in any Sicilian cookbook and you’ll find a recipe for the popular side dish, or contorno, of cooked greens with currants and pine nuts. I make Swiss chard the main attraction of this dish, layering it onto a savory tart with rich and tangy goat cheese, then topping it with sweet currants and toasted pine nuts. Use a crumbly, slightly aged goat cheese, such as Bûcheron, Rodin Affiné, or the domestically produced Laura chanel aged chèvre. Feel free to substitute any other tender greens, such as the tops of beets or turnips, or a bunch of young mustard greens for the Swiss chard.

Fava beans have a cult status in my kitchen, and during their short spring season, I use them as much as possible in salads, ragoûts, and salsas. Here, they are gently stewed in olive oil with garlic and chile and puréed until creamy. This fava bean “hummus” is on my list of perfect foods. Though the classic cheese served with favas in Italy is pecorino, I break with tradition and crumble feta over the purée instead. If you have any leftover purée, make an open-faced sandwich topped with arugula, shallots, a drizzling of olive oil, a squeeze of lemon, and a few shavings of pecorino (or feta). It’s the ultimate snack or light lunch.

Certain foods taste better when you eat them with your hands, like barbecued ribs and corn on the cob. This salad is the perfect way to indulge that primal urge. Use the endive leaves as scoops to gather up some olive shards, a fava bean or two, and a slice of lemon. The crisp spears explode with flavor, and before you’ve finished the first your hand will be reaching for another. Hand out forks if you must, and make sure to tell your friends that the Meyer lemon slices are for eating. They’re sweet and delicious, peel and all. Slice the olives thinly, so their intense taste doesn’t overwhelm the other ingredients. As for the dressing, gently stir (don’t whisk) in the cream to incorporate it without whipping it.

Every night around 4 a.m. at Employees Only, we offer up a hot cup of chunky chicken soup to the survivors of the long, cruel night. It is a tradition came by way of Greek night clubs. It is how we say “thank you” and “good night” to all the people who might expect one more drink.

Poring through old cocktail books, we noted that every reputable bar had a house recipe for bitters. Originally we played with infusing bitter herbs and spices in absinthe but found the task too time-consuming and the results too inconsistent. We settled instead on a blend of different absinthes, Green Chartreuse, and bitters to create just the right balance of anise and bitterness.

This tea-infused vermouth was developed by EO bartender Milos Zica for the Quiet Storm cocktail (page 118). Also known as rooibos, South African red bush tea is a robust herbal tea with a rich mahogany color. We recommend the Silence rooibos tea blend from T Salon, which is where the cocktail’s name partially derives from. Like the Vermouth de Provence (opposite), this vermouth is created with the hot infusion method that requires steeping the tea and other ingredients in a small amount of vermouth to make a concentrate. The color of this infused vermouth is a rich pumpkin orange.

Peaches and bourbon is about as Southern as you can get. Drying the fruit before steeping is key—the flavors are concentrated and yield a strong, clean peach essence; fresh fruit, on the other hand, releases its water into the liquid and dilutes the infusion. The only problem with dried peaches is that they will soak up some of the bourbon, resulting in some loss, but it is worth it. Today, high-quality dried peaches are available in most supermarkets, which greatly simplifies the process. When the infused bourbon is tasted straight, the fruit flavor may seem subdued, but mixing it with sugar or sweetened ingredients awakens the peachiness. We created this infusion for our Pêche Bourbon cocktail (page 46).

Our wild strawberry cordial is actually somewhere between a fruit purée and a syrup. The idea was to create a high-octane strawberry flavor to blend in a French 75 cocktail (page 69). Much of the flavor comes from the wild strawberries we have imported frozen from France—they are tiny in size but big in flavor and vary from light yellow to deep red. You can use regular fresh strawberries, but make absolutely certain that they are ripe and fragrant.

Whereas dry vermouths are herbal, sweet vermouths are spice driven. When we decided to formulate our own sweet vermouth infusion with a deep, accentuated spiciness, we found the perfect warmth and fragrance in chai—the much-loved blend of black tea, cardamom, clove, cinnamon, and ginger. The resulting flavor is so sexy that you will feel like you have been kissed by a Bollywood beauty. This intoxicating concoction is the defining ingredient in our Mata Hari cocktail (page 102).

Plymouth gin has a slightly floral nature. We accentuated it with dried lavender, creating a fast and versatile infusion with many possibilities. This infusion is visually stunning—the herb colors the gin with a slight hue of dark lavender. We use it as the base for our Provençal cocktail (page 49) and recommend it for making a lavender fizz or even an Aviation cocktail (page 63) made with lemon juice, maraschino liqueur, and infused gin.

Hibiscus is used throughout the Middle East and Latin America to make a ruby-red herbal tea. You can find the flowers at a tea or herb retailer. This hibiscus cordial is the brainchild of our bar manager and long-time friend Robert Krueger. This cleverly designed cordial brings out a rich color, beautiful floral notes, and a nice citrus flavor from the dried hibiscus flowers. It’s the main ingredient in Rob’s Roselle cocktail (page 71). Vodka and brandy serve to fortify the cordial for longer use.

How to Mix Drinks or the Bon Vivant’s Companion offers a recipe for English Bishop that involves sketchy directions and an open fire. It took some trial and error, but we adapted it to a standard oven. The infusion can be a cocktail sipped on its own, or an ingredient that can be mixed into other cocktails; we use it in our Jersey Devil cocktail (page 99).

When first conceiving Employees Only, we knew we wanted to create our own house vermouths. We abandoned the idea of making our vermouth from raw wine and decided instead to use dry vermouth as a base for an infusion of additional herbs. The primary flavors in dry vermouth are rosemary, thyme, lavender, and anise—the same botanicals that make up the herbes de Provence blend used in cooking. To extract and transfuse flavors, we use a hot infusion method to create just a small amount of highly concentrated liquid that can be blended with the rest of a bottle of vermouth without cooking out all the alcohol. This controlled method of infusing reduces the amount of contact between alcohol and herbs—if left to steep too long, the finish is bitter. EO Vermouth de Provence is one of the key ingredients in the Provençal cocktail (page 49).

Simple syrup is the most basic sweetener used in cocktails, and as the name states, it’s simple—made of just sugar and water. Like salt, sugar is a flavor enhancer, and simple syrup is used to bring out the character of other cocktail ingredients. Its sweetness also balances acidic elements like citrus juices. Superfine sugar (also called bar sugar, a nod to its use by bartenders) is best for making simple syrup because the fine granules dissolve easily without heating. There are two methods for making simple syrup: hot and cold. Most people are familiar with the hot method and do not realize that you can get the same result by simply stirring or shaking it. The cold method works only with superfine sugar. Standard granulated sugar requires heat to thoroughly dissolve all the granules. Either way, the sugar and water proportions are the same—one to one by volume; because there is a lot of air trapped between granules of sugar, we recommend measuring by weight. For those who don’t own a kitchen scale, we offer a volume measurement as well.

Pineapple syrup is a very simple affair and a tasty sweetener made for use in the Pisco Punch (page 116). The flavor experience is different from using juice or fruit, because although it is clean, it picks up much of the vegetal characteristics of the pineapple. This syrup has many applications and can substitute for simple syrup to add more depth in tropical cocktails.