Vegetarian

This emerald-hued oil—along with the Parsley Oil variation—is used to put the finishing touch on many plates that leave Bar Americain’s kitchen. Though admittedly I love it mostly for esthetic purposes, it does add a hint of fresh, herbal flavor too. You can make either of these in advance and refrigerate for up to 2 days; bring to room temperature before serving.

The counterpart to Green Chile Sauce (opposite) and a darn good sauce on its own served with meat and fish. Brick red New Mexico chiles give this sauce great color and a deep roasted earthy flavor.

This sauce is wonderful served on its own, but paired with Red Chile Sauce (opposite) and served with eggs (Blue Corn Fried Eggs, page 219) or fish or pork or chicken, it becomes known as Christmas. Why? Christmas is known for its red and green colors! In New Mexico restaurant lingo (Sante Fe to be exact), Christmas means a plate of half-red and half-green chile sauces. The New Mexico terminology has spread to some other states in the Southwest, such as Arizona and Texas.

I sometimes use this full-flavored hot sauce to spice up my Crab-Coconut Cocktail (page 79). It is also wonderful drizzled over raw oysters and clams and is one of the sauces served with the raw bar selections at Bar Americain. You must use really ripe mangoes for the best possible flavor. Also, it is extremely important to be very careful when handling the habanero. We use plastic gloves when working with these super-hot chiles, but whatever you do, make sure to keep your hands away from your face (especially your eyes!) until they are absolutely clean.

Once the Deep South’s secret, red velvet cake definitely has the nation’s attention. The cake’s distinctive color, the result of a chemical reaction between acidic vinegar and buttermilk and Dutch-processed cocoa, was originally much more subdued than that of its present incarnation. A dose of food coloring is called for to pump that reddish brown into the true red that distinguishes this cake from all the rest. The sweet and lightly chocolaty cake is layered and frosted with an indulgently rich vanilla buttercream. Made with vanilla bean seeds instead of extract, the creamy frosting sports the telltale brown flecks that signal the pure vanilla flavor to come. Some red velvet cakes I’ve tried have been a bit on the dry side, but not this one. It’s incredibly moist thanks to the buttermilk and a measure of canola oil.

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.

German’s Chocolate Cake is every bit as American as apple pie. German refers not to the country but rather to the last name of the originator of the type of chocolate used in the original recipe—Baker’s German’s Sweet Chocolate. I’ve kept the essentials of the classic recipe in place—chocolate cake layered with caramel, coconut, and pecans—but tweaked them just enough to proudly call this version my own. The cake itself is dark, moist, and truly chocolaty, and a glaze of chocolate ganache heightens the chocolate flavor without the overpowering sweetness of a traditional buttercream frosting. The real twist is found in the cake’s inner layers: my caramel of choice is cajeta, a liquid dulce de leche Mexican treat of sweetened goat’s milk cooked into a rich, syrupy caramel with smooth coconut milk. And forget a scoop of vanilla ice cream; fluffy coconut whipped cream is the last touch in this to-die-for dessert.

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.

Nothing says “ta-da!” quite like a soufflé, making it a fitting finale for the most special of meals. With its dramatic presentation (the soufflé is delivered intact, then broken into and sauced tableside), this deep violet soufflé is one of the restaurant’s most popular desserts. Colored and flavored with the essence of sweet and juicy blackberries, the texture of the delicate soufflé is light, airy—practically ethereal. The thick blackberry sauce, much like a crème anglaise, heightens the berry flavor and adds a wealth of richness to the dessert. Lemony whipped cream is the finishing touch.

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.