Herbs & Spices

Just like the name says, this is a big chicken dish. Grilled whole boneless chicken breasts are layered with eggplant, prosciutto, basil, provolone, and BBQ sauce for a heaping meal-size portion. For those with dainty appetites, the same approach can be applied to half chicken breasts. You might even want to come up with your own grandiose combinations, like grilled zucchini, oregano, and feta; grilled portabella mushrooms, bacon, sautéed onions, and Cheddar; or grilled tomatoes, sliced sausage, chopped cilantro, and pepper-jack cheese. Remember, just think big.

I’m a big fan of horseradish. When it’s stirred into BBQ sauce it takes beef to the next dimension. If you take a few minutes to start this dish in the morning before work, you’ll be eating about an hour after getting home at night.

My first encounter with this dish was in a Nicaraguan steak house in Miami. The citrus-marinated steak with its beautiful green sauce just blew me away. Making the Chimichurri Sauce—a Latin version of pesto—takes no time, so you could easily fit this into your after-work grilling repertoire.

Back in the mid ‘80s I worked a semester as a cook for 38 college girls at a sorority at Syracuse University. A great gig if there ever was one. The Japanese housemother, Mrs. M., opened my mind to the freshness of ginger and other Asian flavors. You can find five-spice powder and hot chili sauce in the Asian section of your supermarket.

These delectable shrimp boiled in beer and rolled in lots of spice and garlic are our most popular appetizer. Their “a-peel” has always been in the roll-up-your-sleeves sloppy nature of eating ‘em. There’s nothin’ polite about ‘em, and that’s the way we like it.

Boiled custard is a southern tradition that has been used for centuries in recipes like banana pudding, pies, and homemade ice cream. It adds the richness and flavor of a pastry cream to every recipe it’s used in, but it’s not as thick.

The original recipe for these cinnamon cookies is written on an index card in my sister Beth’s earliest cursive handwriting, and it is probably the first recipe I remember her making when we were girls. She still makes them every Halloween.

One of our girls doesn’t like chocolate! Hard to believe if you’re a chocolate lover like me, but I’m always looking for a chocolate alternative for dessert around my house. Fortunately, this was Beth’s specialty growing up, and I’ve stolen her recipe for my own.

This recipe is basically the same as the White Cream Decorator Frosting (page 168) except that, because you’re not worried about the icing staying white, you can use milk and regular vanilla extract.

Beth makes this cake every time it’s her turn to take refreshments for her Sunday School class. It’s made in a bundt pan, so it looks beautiful, and the sour cream gives it great flavor and a moist texture. Those little tunnels of brown sugar and nuts are a nice surprise. People always ask her for the recipe.

I am a big fan of Greek salads, but at restaurants I seem to find myself always picking the vegetables and cheese out of the lettuce. One day I thought, why make it with lettuce at all? This recipe is just veggies and feta. I love it!

If you’re not a sweet pickle fan, you should try these wonderful dill pickles that my friend Lisa’s grandmother makes. Sweet pickles are generally sliced, but these are served whole. They are deliciously dilled and better than any store-bought pickle, I guarantee it!

I think making someone else’s recipes is a wonderful way to remember them when they’re no longer with us. Garth’s brother Jerry loved my cooking, and he was a good cook himself. He always made me feel he truly appreciated the meals I made for him, and I loved him for it. He had a wonderful smile and a great spirit. Jerry brought these pecans out to the house one day, and I only stopped eating them when they were gone! The butter and sugar make them crunchy, sweet, and rich.

In Quebec, only two real game meats can be legally sold, caribou from the great north and hare snared in the winter. The taste of these meats is surprising at first, the incarnation of the word “gamey,” but like truffles or blue cheese, it becomes what you crave. Many little classic Parisian restaurants offer this dish in season, and there are as many ways to cook it as there are chefs. The basics are wild hare (lièvre), red wine, shallots, thyme, and garlic. The rest can vary. At Joe Beef, we use both hare and rabbit. D’Artagnan (www.dartagnan.com) ships in-season Scottish game hare that we have tried. It’s gamey all right, but it’s the real McCoy. If you can’t find a hare, you can use all rabbit. Count on two days to prepare this recipe. It should yield six to eight portions, and it freezes well.

Here is a recipe for a brine that is sufficient to pickle up to 10 normal-size eggs. If you are using quail eggs, you can obviously pickle a lot more. The day we took this picture we had quail eggs, but truly, our favorite eggs are the smallest hen eggs available: the peewees. We even love the name, and their size is perfect because you can gobble up two or three. Remember to leave your eggs at room temperature for an hour before cooking them.

We never went hungry as kids. And we have no inherent fear of the next Great Depression or anxiety about canned food. Still, we always want more. Wanting and eating four of the Swedish shrimp-egg things you can buy in the restaurant at IKEA is a good example of that. Another good example is how we would have piled more stuff on this modest toast if we could have fit it: a can of sardines from Bretagne, maybe, or quails stuffed with crab hiding in the corner. Our first reaction on seeing this photo was, “Shit, we forgot clams.” There are thirty items here, and if we do another book, we will put in sixty, we promise (just so we don’t run out of food). Disclaimer: In no way do we aspire or pretend to serve authentic Scandinavian food. This is just our view projected onto a classic. The closest we have been to Scandinavia is Fred Heimlich-maneuvering a Dane who choked on the biggest oyster ever eaten raw. And it was a weird experience because it was like they kissed; they were shy around each other for the rest of the evening. In the list that follows, an asterisk means a recipe is included. If there’s no *, it means the item is straightforward and you can figure it out. We suggest serving the items on rye bread or a baguette sliced lengthwise and buttered. You then eat your open-faced sandwich with a fork and knife. Or, you can do as we do: add condiments and eat it like a military strategist, portioning, placing, moving, and rationing. Regarding yields: the smorgasbord is more of a concept than a straightforward recipe. The smorgasbord shown here serves 4 to 6, and includes every single thing listed. You don’t have to follow our lead (though we would be pleased). Typically we put 4 or 5 proteins and 4 or 5 condiments on the average smorgasbord. Following this rule, each of the small recipes serves four.

Here is another great dish from the repertoire of Nicolas Jongleux. We used to scoff at people who said they knew how to make a great dessert that wasn’t too sweet. But as you get older and the espresso and the social cigarillos have started to erode your taste buds, you find yourself liking bourbon, lemon, and dandelion. This is a perfect little dessert in that fashion. It’s zingy and alive. We burn it with a blowtorch. If you don’t have one, just use your broiler. Heat it to the max and put whatever is holding the grapefruit right under it. Don’t forget dry rags or oven mitts and an ovenproof vessel.

Our good friends Dyan Solomon and Éric Girard own Olive + Gourmando, a perfect luncheonette on Saint Paul West in Montreal’s Old Port. Their little shop is what we expect the coffee shop in the afterlife to be like: they’re detail fanatics and it’s no contest the best place for lunch in the city. When they first opened, they were bakers, and the place was a bakery with a few seats. They still make bread, but mostly to use in delicious sandwiches. The front counter is displayed with brioches, croissants, brownies, and fruit pastries, and they’re all killer. We thought they were insane when they decided to open in Old Port a decade ago. It was a barren ghost town of bombed-out buildings, seedy bars, and grow-ops. There were no people, much less hotels and tourist shops selling maple-sugar products and “raccoon” Daniel Boone hats actually made from Chinese skunks. Like us, Éric and Dyan don’t take anything too seriously (Dyan can tell you many stories of Fred’s practical jokes when they used to work together: her showing up at 6:00 A.M. to a fake “dead man” at the bottom of the stairs; Fred putting a scraped lamb shank in his shirt, saying he may have hurt his hand. . . .) They’re Montreal classics and were kind enough to hand over one of their most beloved recipes.