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There is one sandwich in the Vietnamese repertoire and it is a tour de force. Garlicky meats, marinated daikon and carrot, chiles, cucumber, and cilantro tucked into a baguette moistened with mayonnaise and Maggi Seasoning sauce, bánh mì merges European and Asian food traditions. Each mouthful reflects how Vietnamese cooks co-opted French ideas to create new foods. All bánh mì use the same basic framework of ingredients, though a minority of makers use margarine or butter instead of mayonnaise. At Vietnamese delis, you make the call on the main protein element. The dac biet (special) is basically “the works,” a smear of liver pâté and slices of various cold cuts that show off the art of Vietnamese charcuterie (pages 156 to 171). Follow the custom of Viet deli owners and use your imagination to fill the sandwich. Just make sure it is boldly flavored. Pieces of grilled lemongrass beef (page 28), oven-roasted chicken (page 80), five-spice pork steaks (page 143), or char siu pork (page 142; pictured here) are excellent. Seared or grilled firm tofu or left over roasted lamb or beef will work, too. The bread doesn’t have to be one of the airy Vietnamese baguettes made with wheat and rice flours. (In the past, the best baguettes in Vietnam were made from wheat flour only and displayed an amazing crumb and crust.) You can use a regular baguette (though neither sourdough nor too crusty) or a Mexican bolillo (torpedo-shaped roll).

Loaded with beef, crunchy texture, and heady sweet flavors, this specialty of southern Vietnam echoes Chinese mu shu pork and Malaysian and Singaporean poh piah. But instead of rolling the filling in a wheat flour–based wrapper, rice paper is used. Bò bía are traditionally made by street vendors in a to-go format that recalls a Mexican burrito. When we lived in Saigon, my sister Ha and her best friend, Loan, were addicted to the rolls. On the way home from school, my parents or our driver would take them by one of the hawkers strategically positioned on a street corner, hot wok at the ready. Hand rolls and money were exchanged through the car window, with the girls giggling as they dove into their favorite snack. Because we don’t have those wonderful street vendors here, our family makes bò bía at home as a prelude to a big meal or the focus of a light lunch. We set things up at the table for everyone to assemble his or her own rolls. Th is do-it-yourself approach is ideal because these rolls, unlike salad rolls (page 32), can be messy and should be eaten as soon as they are made.

Years ago, I tasted these grilled beef skewers at a restaurant in Orange County’s Little Saigon, where they were served with a hoisin-based peanut sauce. When I got home, I researched the recipe in cookbooks published in Vietnam decades ago and developed this recipe, which includes shrimp sauce (mam tôm) to give the beef a distinctive savory depth. Typical of food from Vietnam’s central region, these skewers are rich and a bit salty. Dipped in the earthy sauce, they are addictively good—the perfect match for a cold beer, margarita, or gimlet. Tri-tip steak (from the bottom loin), a flavorful cut that California cooks like to grill, is ideal for these skewers. A thick piece of flap steak (from the short loin), which is oft en used for carne asada, also works well. For the true flavors of the Southeast Asian table, grill the beef over charcoal or a gas grill. In the absence of a grill, use the broiler.

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.

It used to be that flapjacks were made from a cornbased batter, this being the major distinction between them and their close cousin pancakes, which were made from a wheat flour–based batter. Today the two terms are roughly synonymous, though I love the heartiness that the term flapjacks implies, and the three that we stack up per serving are more than enough to satisfy even the hungriest Bar Americain bruncher. That said, the buttermilk in the batter makes the flapjacks light and fluffy, as does taking care not to overmix the batter and giving it ample resting time before you start cooking. Instead of folding the tasty extras into the flapjack batter, I load warm maple syrup with the good stuff—crunchy pecans and sweet apricots. Apricot season is short, and finding really flavorful ones is not always easy, so I use dried apricots in the syrup, rehydrating them in simple syrup and then roasting them. The sugars are slightly caramelized in the process, and the fruit’s sweet, slightly tart flavor is magnified.

Nutty cracked wheat (okay, it’s technically bulgur) adds a welcome touch of texture to these waffles. Made with whole wheat flour, the waffles are a bit healthier and heartier than standard ones without being the least bit leaden. Spicy cinnamon and complex allspice lend their flavors to the creamy butter. A sweet blueberry syrup drizzled—or ladled—over the waffles makes the whole dish special. I wouldn’t recommend making the syrup with frozen berries as they are too wet to burst as the fresh berries do. If you have extra berries left over, sprinkle them on top before serving.

Bland and mushy are forever banished; this is oatmeal for grown-ups. Steel-cut oatmeal (also referred to as Irish oatmeal) has a wonderfully nutty taste and a texture that is at once creamy and chewy. As a kid I always loaded my oatmeal with raisins and brown sugar; now I cook tart apple slices with the same ingredients for an unexpected yet familiar treat to layer with the oatmeal. A sprinkling of turbinado sugar and a quick hit from the broiler create a sweet brûléed crust and an extra touch of decadence. Crack the crust with your spoon and pour in the cinnamon-scented cream . . . oh yeah, you’ll be in love with oatmeal after this.

This is an egg sandwich I could eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Tangy sourdough bread is grilled to crusty perfection and topped with a meaty slice of griddled country ham, blistered sweet tomatoes, and a perfectly fried egg. A lightly dressed mound of slightly bitter, feathery frisée crowns this fork-and-knife sandwich.

My beautiful wife, Stephanie, may live in New York, but when it comes time for breakfast, she is still a Texas girl through and through. She can put away a plate of biscuits, sausage, and cream gravy like nobody’s business. This dish was created in her honor. I highly recommend making your own sausage patties; it’s so easy to do, and it puts you in total control of what you are eating. Think fresh herbs and garlic as opposed to the nitrates and excessive sodium you’ll find in many supermarket sausages. A healthy dose of black pepper punches up the flavor of the silky cream gravy.

Eggs Benedict is the quintessential dish of the New York Sunday brunch. I like to put a southern spin on the classic, starting with a fluffy buttermilk biscuit. A Cajun blend of seasonings gives a kick to the luscious hollandaise sauce, which is right at home with New Orleans’ beloved tasso ham. Tasso is cured and hotsmoked pork shoulder crusted with a spicy blend of flavorings such as garlic and cayenne pepper. (If you can’t find tasso, you can try substituting slices of Italian capicola, which is prepared similarly.) Griddled tomatoes are an addition to, not a substitution in, the original Benedict, but I like the slightly sweet, fresh balance they bring to the richness of the other components.

Both venison and blackberries are farmed these days, but they were once procured in the wild, by early American hunters and foragers. I like to think that this dish is one that would have been at home—in essence if not preparation—on the table of pioneers first settling the woods of northern Wisconsin and Michigan. Blackberries have a tart edge to their fruity flavor, which enlivens the richness of nutty brown butter. The sauce is hit with just a hint of sage, and its slightly woodsy flavor brings out the still-wild-at-heart nature of the berries. Sage is a potent herb, and you need to employ it in small doses. If you can’t find or aren’t a fan of venison, lamb or even pork chops would work in its place.

A Mexican-inspired brunch is my favorite way to recover from a long night out, and this spin on huevos rancheros is how we serve it up at Bar Americain. This plate is layered with taste and texture, from the crisp, salty tortillas up to the cool and chunky guacamole on top. Savory black beans make this dish extra satisfying, while the chile sauces pump up the color—and heat. I like the slightly sweet, nutty flavor of blue corn tortillas, but if you can’t find them, yellow ones are an easy substitute.

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.

This is a fantastic fall dish. The great thing about venison is that it has very little fat and is quite good for you. Red cabbage is a classic accompaniment to venison, especially in the Germany-influenced cuisine of France’s Alsace region. Baking the cabbage into a savory bread pudding Americanizes the traditional combination. The purple ribbons look beautiful running through the golden currant-studded, clove- and ginger-scented pudding. Baking the cabbage also mellows its somewhat astringent quality, making it accessible to those who may be less fond of its assertive flavor. Concord grapes are in season for a very short period of time, and their delicious, juicy, sweet-tart flavor is a highlight of the season. This sauce calls for Concord grape juice, which is always available, even when the grapes themselves are not.

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.

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.

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.

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.