American

For those of you who are not from the South, spoonbread is best described as a cross between a soufflé and corn bread. Light and creamy like a soufflé, this elegant side dish delivers the essence of corn bread without any of its density. Parmesan cheese gives the spoonbread a rich, savory note, while sweet roasted garlic and roasted green chiles provide the force of its flavor profile. Chopped chives and oregano fleck each bite with fresh color and flavor. At Bar Americain we serve Green Chile Spoonbread alongside the Smoked Chicken with Black Pepper Vinegar Sauce (page 126), but I would be hard-pressed to think of a meal that wouldn’t be complemented by this dish.

What could be more American than a pot of baked beans? From “Beantown’s” own Boston baked beans to one of the South’s favorite sides for a plate of barbecue, baked beans are an integral part of our culinary heritage. Molasses is a traditional ingredient here; its dark, rich flavor and thick texture give the dish its characteristic sweetness and consistency. I use a little less than most folks and supplement it with a generous dose of honey to mellow it out and allow the rest of the flavorings—dark rum and barbecue sauce among them—to shine. My southwestern culinary leanings are what prompt me to use black beans. I like their somewhat firm texture, but you could certainly use traditional navy beans if you’d prefer. The fat and smoky flavor of bacon is essential. Double-smoked bacon gives you even more of that amazing taste.

At first glance this appears to be a steak tartare presented just as you would find it in any French bistro. Small mounds of finely chopped egg whites, their creamy yellow yolks, sharp red onion, and salty capers surround a carefully shaped ring of chopped red meat, all ready to be mixed and scooped up with crisp rounds of toast. But instead of minced steak, the star of this tartare is fresh tuna. Smoky chipotle puree and pungent Dijon mustard are blended with smooth olive oil so that they can coat each dice of tuna with flavor. Fresh green onions and delicate shallots contribute a soft onion flavor to the tartare, while the briny capers and fresh parsley add brightness. Delicious as is, the deceptive garnishes are what make this a playful American dish.

Warm and bubbly with a golden brown crust, this easy-to-prepare side dish is one of my favorite cold-weather indulgences. I am a big fan of cauliflower’s soft, slightly nutty flavor and don’t think it gets the attention it deserves. It has a remarkable ability to absorb the flavors of whatever it is being cooked with, such as the rich creamy sauce of smooth Monterey Jack, salty Parmesan, and tangy goat cheeses in this gratin.

I first brought this steak out at Bobby Flay Steak in Atlantic City. It caused enough of a stir to prompt me to serve it at Bar Americain, where, to the delight of our patrons, it is Saturday’s plate of the day. Flavorful, juicy strip steaks are massaged with a chile-laden spice rub and topped with sweet golden caramelized onions—because I definitely order my Philly cheese steak “wit” onions! The cheese choice has always been more of a dilemma for me—the flavor of provolone is far superior to that of classic Cheez Whiz, but I love the smooth, melted texture of the Whiz. I created my own answer to that age-old dilemma for this steak: the provolone sauce is creamy, luscious, and full of sharp cheese flavor. Seriously, this steak is drool-worthy good.

Look no further for your next special-occasion meal, because this is it. Also known as a standing rib roast, this cut—tender, juicy, and loaded with flavor—is the king of beef. And as long as we’re celebrating, this dish is pushed to its over-the-top status by the accompanying béarnaise butter. This deceptively simple compound butter with shallots, tarragon, and a bit of tangy vinegar delivers the delicately herbal, luscious taste of a rich béarnaise sauce without the hassle and heaviness of its hollandaise base. The only thing I find lacking in most prime rib dishes is that crusty exterior I love, but I’ve taken care of that by borrowing a technique from my friends in Louisiana—blackening. It encrusts the luscious meat in an extra layer of flavor and texture.

Collard greens are a point of southern pride. Any barbecue or soul food restaurant worth its salt has a place for these mustardy-flavored greens. In the South, collard greens are typically cooked with a ham hock or smoked turkey wings to give a great smoky flavor to the greens and the broth—or pot liquor as it is referred to in local parlance. You can definitely add either to this recipe, but I like to use chipotle chiles to give not only smokiness but also a little heat to this dish. I prefer my collard greens to retain some bite and cook them until tender, not to melting. The greens have a natural sweetness that is both accentuated and balanced by the finishing splash of apple cider vinegar. Sweet, smoky, and slightly vinegary, these collard greens definitely deliver a touch of soul to the table.

Native Americans showed the Pilgrims how to cook with maize (corn) and probably taught them to make johnny cake, a dense cornmeal bread whose thick batter is shaped into a flat cake and baked or fried on a griddle. These cakes (basically just fried corn bread) are the perfect vehicle for many toppings. One of my favorites is barbecued duck and cranberry butter. Feel free to make your own cranberry relish, use what’s left over from your holiday meal, or purchase a good-quality prepared one.

One of the first images that comes to mind when I think of the Midwest is that of endless green corn fields; this comforting side dish was born in the home kitchens of that region. If your memory of creamed corn has been tainted by a run-in with a bland, mushy, straight-from-the can version, you owe it to yourself take a fresh look at the real deal. Sweet corn kernels are mixed into a creamy béchamel sauce flavored with onions and garlic and cooked until just tender. The sauce is absorbed by the corn and plumps the kernels (even frozen ones) so that they practically pop in every mouthful. Roasted red peppers and green poblanos add both color and a savory counterpoint to the naturally sweet corn.

A favorite cut of butchers, hanger steak is also the steak of choice for the quintessential French bistro dish steak frites. It may not have the cachet of a hulking porterhouse or a pricey filet, but what it lacks in name it more than makes up for in taste. Hanger steak has a rich, beefy flavor that is enhanced here by a savory rub. Bar Americain’s steak sauce is a balanced blend of the sweet and sharp notes of molasses, honey, Dijon mustard, and horseradish. You could serve this steak with Fries Americain (page 164) for your own steak frites, or you could make it the centerpiece of an American steakhouse meal by pairing it with Brooklyn Hash Browns (page 163) and Creamed Kale (page 169). (Both the rub and the steak sauce are available for purchase at bobbyflay.com.)

This is barbecue belt cooking all the way. I don’t care if you’re in Austin, Texas, or Manhattan, New York—if ribs are on the menu, you’ve got to roll up your shirt sleeves and have a big stack of napkins ready. This dish has New Yorkers doing just that when it makes its weekly appearance at Bar Americain. Racks of meaty ribs are dressed up with a smoky spice rub for extra flavor. The rich barbecue sauce, spiked with the molasseslike flavor of bourbon, will leave even the most refined diners licking their fingers. It wouldn’t be proper barbecue without some corn bread to mop up every last delicious bit of flavor from the plate, and I like to serve this dish with a savory tomato one.

Ray Charles must have been in my head when I designed this dish, because it’s all about Georgia. The green tomato–peach relish is a natural, and not only because both ingredients are beloved by Georgians. The tartness of the green tomatoes is evenly matched by the honey sweetness of the peaches, and the resulting relish is fresh, incredibly flavorful, and totally balanced. Pork tenderloin is lean, has very little fat, and cooks quickly, so your kitchen stays cool while you eat well. This really is a wonderful summer dish.

I don’t know why people seem surprised by this one; it makes perfect sense to me! Lobster and potatoes have each been the starring ingredient in their own salads for ages—in this recipe, they share double billing, resulting in a dish that is infinitely better than either of the individual salads that inspired it. Besides the lobster, thin-skinned and buttery fingerling potatoes give the potato salad a major upgrade. The mayonnaise-based dressing features a blend of pungent horseradish, Dijon mustard, and bright lemon juice. I love anise-flavored tarragon with lobster; its delicate leaves are folded in along with lemony parsley right before serving.

This is a total throwback to a classic dish from my childhood, pork chops and applesauce. I bet I’m not the only one who enjoyed this weeknight staple both growing up and today. But there’s far more to this dish than nostalgia; pork and fruit, especially apples, make a fantastic combination. Soaking the rack of pork in a savory apple juice brine delivers great results—the naturally mild, lean meat is thoroughly infused with flavor and moisture that won’t cook out in the oven. Brining is a vital step in producing this juicy, flavorful pork. The deep molasses-mustard glaze and pan sauce finished with sour mash whiskey are Tennessee touches that I never had growing up, but I think the next generation will appreciate this new spin on an American classic.

We serve these chips, an all-American classic, with our Lobster Club (page 50) for lunch at Bar Americain, but you could serve them with any sandwich—or just sit in front of the TV and eat a big bowl of them on their own. Making your own potato chips and seasoning does require a little work, but the end result is definitely worth it. That said, if you don’t want to make homemade potato chips, you can substitute your favorite brand of plain potato chips, spread them in an even layer on a baking sheet, and heat in a 325°F oven for 5 minutes before tossing them in the barbecue seasoning.

Dipping French fries in mayonnaise is a European conceit. The French and Belgians wouldn’t serve their pommes frites with anything else! If you haven’t given it a try, you should—the combination of hot, crisp, salty fries and smooth, rich mayonnaise is dangerously addictive. I dust these fries with a healthy dose of spicy black pepper before sending them out of Bar Americain’s kitchen. The familiar spice has quite a kick, the level of which you can adjust to suit your taste. The smoked red pepper mayonnaise is richly flavored with smoky chipotle in adobo and sweet roasted red pepper. The mayonnaise comes together in an instant in the food processor. Try it on your favorite sandwich, as a dip for veggies, with fish . . . all it takes is one dip and you’ll find yourself whipping it up time and time again.

I always tell people that I want Bar Americain to feel French but taste American. This is a classic bistro or brasserie dish that you would find in Europe, and by making it my own, perhaps with a California Zinfandel wine and vinegar, I think we manage to do just that—feel French, taste American. This is an incredibly comforting dish capable of warming your whole being on a cold fall or winter’s day. I like the spicy heat of merguez sausage in this dish, but you could certainly use another variety of lamb or even pork sausage if you so choose.