Vegetarian

This is our infamous rib sauce.

This is part of our mise en place at the restaurant. We mix it with mayonnaise (page 175), serve it straight up with potatoes or fish, or use it to punch up sauces, soups, stews, or anything raw like tartare. Do not use woodsy herbs like rosemary, thyme, or sage in this purée, and be sure to wash all of your herbs well.

This is a staple in pretty much every professional kitchen, and with this easy method, it could be in yours, too. We like to eat the crudités with our Zesty Italian Tartare (page 245).

We use this for our Scallops with Pulled Pork (page 30) recipe.

A classic mayo.

Pier Luc Dallaire has worked for us for five years (and counting) as a cook, busboy, bartender, oyster shucker, and now, a real French waiter! His dad, Bertrand, was a kindred soul gardener, and his mom, Huguette, made these killer doughnuts. They rise with baking powder, not yeast. And you will often find them at weekend country flea markets. The Isle-aux-Grues cheese (page 276) is a great Quebec product that we couldn’t resist smoking. Together they sing.

The spice and heat in this jam make it more at ease with meats and cheese than toast. As for the Babylon term, it’s simply in relation to the avid devotion that the world’s kitchen has for reggae music!

This is Fred’s mom, Suzanne’s, recipe. It is an old Belgian Walloon standard—a quick and tasty pickle that is good with pork roast and sausages. You can also mix the “brine” with nut oil as a dressing for beets. And use it to give a welcome buzz to a bland wine sauce: just a drop or two. This pickling solution works well with almost any stone fruit. The amount of liquid you need will vary according to the stone fruit(s) you use. Here, the amount has been geared to 1 pound (455 g) cherries and/or Italian plums. You may need to adjust it if you use other stone fruits. Because we are deathly afraid of preserves gone wrong (from watching an old episode of Quincy, M.E., where the culprit was botulism), we suggest using superclean plastic containers and always refrigerating the preserves.

The best fries are done with potatoes that have never seen the cold. It has something to do with starch converting to sugar at certain temperatures. If you’re interested in the specifics, check out Harold McGee’s On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen. At the restaurant, we use a russet potato from the Île d’Orléans in the Saint Lawrence River (which Cartier originally named the Isle of Bacchus because of the native vines that covered the landscape), but you can use anything similar. This recipe really is made to work with a deep fryer. If you don’t have a small one at home, a 5-quart (5-liter) thick-bottomed, highsided pot and a deep-frying thermometer will work. We use half canola oil and half beef fat, which always makes better fries the second day. If you can get your hands on rendered beef leaf fat (the fat from around the kidneys), definitely use that. If this is all too much, you can use peanut oil. We don’t, as we can’t piss off both the vegetarians and the allergics. A few years back we started tossing our fries in escargot butter (its name comes from its use, not its contents; it’s basically garlic butter) and now we can’t stop. We also like to add a little grated pecorino as we toss.

This great side dish has a bit of a Quebecois-lumberjack-in-Bollywood taste. It is red lentils cooked like dahl, seasoned like baked beans. It is a pork chop’s best friend, or will mate with a hefty breakfast.

This recipe is from a trip that Fred took with Allison and her parents to the Czech Republic: “I was thirty, traveling in the back of an Opel minivan loaded with adults. The bottles of beer were always too small and the stops never frequent enough. This was back when I was ignoring a little gluten issue and drinking vast quantities of Czechvar/Budvar. Basically, this trip was like the Griswolds in Prague. “While visiting an old brewery’s beer garden, I noticed a ‘little things to eat with beer’ section of the menu. It was full of pickled herring, utopenec (pickled sausage), and cheese. We ordered them all, and when the cheese arrived, it was like a gathering of all of the cheese leftovers blended with beer. It was unsightly and completely delicious.” You will need four (4-ounce) cheese molds with holes or four Styrofoam coffee cups with holes poked in the bottoms and sides, plus four paper coffee filters to make the cheese.

If Parmesan is the king of cheese, Époisses is the cultural attaché. It’s smelly in a way that makes you proud to like it. It’s also red-wine compatible and awesome on a piece of steak. A washed-rind cheese, Époisses is made from milk from Burgundian cows and washed with the local marc de Bourgogne. It is crucial that you buy a good Époisses, and, in fact, only one or two brands make it to the United States and Canada. Sniffit before buying, and avoid one with a horse urine–window cleaner smell. Remember, too, warming up the cheese only amplifies the aroma. Sometimes Gilles Jourdenais at Fromagerie Atwater gets in tiny individual Époisses, which we try to use whenever possible. This dish, which combines the cheese with shallots, used to be the classic Joe Beef drunk staff meal at 4 A.M. Eat it with toasted bread, a few rosettes of mâche, or on top of steak.

Nicolas Jongleux is a Montreal legend. Born and raised in Marsannay, in Burgundy, he grew up working in some of France’s most influential kitchens, including, at age twenty-six, under Alain Chapel at the Michelin-three-star La Mère Charles in Mionnay. He came to Montreal under the guise of partnering in Le Cintra, where he worked for three years. From there he ran the seminal Les Caprices de Nicolas. David says: “He had more talent than anyone I’ve ever seen. I once watched him make sixty identical croissants by hand, no recipe, no scale, and he hadn’t made croissants for more than five years. When he finished, there was not a drop of extra pastry, and each pastry was perfect.” He was also the kind of person who had such discipline all of his life, that he when he left France, he lived the experiences most of us had in our teens, in his thirties. He opened his last restaurant, Café Jongleux, in 1999, and committed suicide in the restaurant later that year. This recipe was a Nicolas classic.

Consider this recipe a double whammy. Not only do you end up with a dreamy, cheesy bread pudding, but you also get the recipe for an excellent loaf of Irish soda bread. The bread is so easy to make—there's no yeast involved—don't be surprised if you find yourself baking a loaf often. It makes excellent toast. Many Irish cheeses are now sold in our supermarkets, but you'll have good results with any sharp Cheddar. Buried in the recipe is a nifty trick: Adding a bit of Parmesan to the mixture helps amplify the flavor of the Cheddar.

Every Super Bowl spread needs a refreshing salad to counterbalance the array of must-have dips, cheesy snacks, and meaty mains. Because the elements of this are all chopped, it's a salad that's easy to toss, easy to serve, and best of all, easy to eat.

Orzo is the Italian word for barley, and the slender, grain-shape of orzo pasta makes for a no-fuss, neatly consumed salad, particularly if you are balancing a plate while perched on the edge of a sofa or standing around the TV watching the Super Bowl. Although the salad makes for a great accompaniment to the Stuffed Sliders Your Way, your vegetarian friends will thank you for providing them with an option they will really enjoy as their main dish.