Alcohol

This unexpected salmon preparation borrows flavors from Alsace. The usual partner for choucroute is a medley of pork meat sausages, but the oceany flavor of the best wild salmon works surprisingly well. The tart sauerkraut and spicy Gewürztraminer balance the richness of the fish. Juniper berries lend a distinct perfume. Needless to say, the perfect wine for this dish is the one that you used to make the sauce.

This rich and smoky salad has become, hands down, the most popular dish on the menu at Bayona. I think it’s owing to the combination of textures and flavors, and the way they all mingle together and complement one another. There are several components to this salad, and that’s why it’s so satisfying. The good news is that many of these steps can be done in advance. The trickiest technique is cold-smoking the quail, which infuses it with natural smoky flavor without cooking it. That means when we fry the batter-dipped bird at the last minute, the result is both crispy and juicy. At the restaurant we make a stock with the smoked quail wings and use it to enrich the dressing, but this is not necessary. If pears are not in season, apples make a good substitute.

I have always loved leeks, but now they have a particularly romantic context in my life. The first time I met my (then future) husband, Chip, he cooked chicken with leeks, a dish that knocked me out. (I guess I should mention that he worked as a professional chef in New Orleans for ten years.) He blanched the leeks, so they were bright green and pliable, then wrapped them around a stuffed chicken breast. It was the most beautiful, seductive presentation. Since then, every time I cook with leeks I think of that dish—and him. Leeks have an interesting, subtle flavor that suggests asparagus or salsify (a root vegetable). A lot of Americans don’t know how to use them, and they tend to be pricey. But this simple bistro presentation shows that they are worth the splurge. This is the most basic French preparation for leeks, and one of the most delicious. It’s also the recipe that sold me on them forever.

This irresistible combination of pungent and sweet flavors—figs, blue cheese, walnuts, and deeply flavored sherry vinaigrette—explains why this house salad flies out the door at Herbsaint.

This dish was an accidental smash hit. Like many of our best sellers, it began as a special and was created in a moment of resourcefulness when we had an overabundance of mushrooms. It quickly became a signature, and it remains one of our most popular items. To achieve the best flavor and texture, it’s essential to sauté the mushrooms in a very hot pan, so they will be nicely browned and crispy.

Here’s one I stole from my friend, mentor, and sometimes tormentor from Louis XVI Restaurant, Daniel Bonnot. He taught me how to make these about twenty-five years ago. Beignet is essentially just a fancy French word for a fritter. In New Orleans, people have been known to subsist on beignets and coffee alone. This is not advisable. Feel free to substitute chopped crayfish tails for the smoked salmon—both versions are dangerously addictive.

Filled with Caribbean flavors, this dinner is made to be enjoyed outdoors. You will need twelve metal or wooden skewers. To keep them from scorching on the grill, soak wooden skewers in water while preparing the ingredients.

This is the best cheese fondue I’ve ever had—Megan got the recipe when she was in France. You can use most kinds of hard white French or Swiss cheese, but be sure not to use store-bought grated cheese. Those cheeses are tossed in cornstarch so the pieces don’t stick together. If you use them in cheese fondue, the cornstarch forms a hard lump in the pan. Note that this recipe uses a cup of wine—it’s very French to cook with wine—which is one of the things that makes this fondue classic.

In my mom’s saigon kitchen, the food processor, a modern luxury appliance, was reserved for making giò, while the old-fashioned hand-crank meat grinder was used for delicious liver pâtés like this one. We regularly enjoyed it, tucked into bánh mì or simply smeared on a baguette slice. In the traditional Viet interpretation of French paté, pork or beef liver, pork meat, and fatback are seasoned with lots of garlic and sometimes Cognac and Chinese five-spice powder (a substitute for French quatre épices). Some cooks add tapioca starch or flour as a binder, and, when available, they line the mold with caul fat for encasing the meat mixture. The paté is then steamed, steamed and baked, or baked in a water bath, the method usually depending on whether or not the cook has an oven. When my mother came to the States and switched from pork to chicken for making giò, she began saving the left over livers for this light, elegant pâté. She also started making the pâté in a food processor. If you want a more intense liver flavor, use half pork and half chicken liver, or make an all-pork version, cutting the liver into 1-inch cubes before processing. Don’t skimp on fat, or the results will be dry and tough. Meat today tends to be lean, and this recipe needs the fat to achieve the right taste and texture. You will end up with a large pâté—the better to impress others with your efforts.

Making homemade lobster stock is relatively easy. If you don’t steam a lot of lobsters at home or have access to lobster shells in your area—or making seafood or fish stocks simply isn’t your thing—you can buy good-quality prepared fish/seafood stocks from your local fishmonger or online (see Sources).

OK, in my wildest dreams I couldn’t come up with a more perfect dessert for myself. Bourbon, ice cream, buttermilk, pecans, and light, buttery-crispy profiteroles; it doesn’t get any better for me (except for maybe the Blueberry Lemon Crêpes, page 198 . . . oh, and the Blackberry Soufflé, page 196). For some reason my sweet tooth always leans toward anything southern, and anything with bourbon in it is all right by me.

This make-ahead dessert is a great choice for dinner parties—the individual servings take very little time to plate and garnish, so you can enjoy yourself while still wowing your dinner guests with an elegant, delicious finale. The recipe’s first step calls for infusing its liquid ingredients with chopped pistachios; though the nuts themselves are later strained and removed, their fresh, delicate sweetness flavors every creamy spoonful of the rich custard. Prepared pistachio paste (available online; see Sources) adds more nuttiness and body.

Though French by definition, these delicate and lemony crêpes are an American tribute, boasting a sweet filling of tart, silky lemon curd and a juicy blueberry compote. The black currant–flavored crème de cassis contributes a sophisticated undercurrent of berry flavor to the compote and enhances its deep purple-blue color. Just as a stack of blueberry pancakes is made that much better by a melting pat of butter, a drizzle of browned butter enhances this dish with its nutty richness.

The classic dessert bananas Foster was created in 1951 by Paul Blangé in New Orleans, Louisiana. It was named for Richard Foster, a friend of Owen Brennan’s who was then the city’s Crime Commission chairman. If you have been fortunate enough to visit New Orleans and eat at Brennan’s, then you know what an incredible dessert bananas Foster is. Sautéed in a buttery, cinnamony caramel sauce and flambéed with dark rum and banana liqueur, bananas are then poured over creamy, rich vanilla ice cream. On the brunch menu at Bar Americain, I take all those yummy components, replacing the ice cream with a slightly tangy crème fraîche whipped cream, and pair them with delicate crêpes. These crêpes are served as an entrée and not a dessert. I can’t think of a better way to start off my weekend.