Gluten Free

This recipe is an homage. While aboard the Ocean, en route to Prince Edward Island, we had three choices for dinner: haddock Dugléré, chicken jalfrezi, or fish chowder and sandwich. Meredith went for the chicken, everyone else had haddock. Fred looked at Meredith’s, knew it was better, and talked the entire trip about ordering it on our return. As we made our way back to Quebec, all he wanted was a warm and true jalfrezi. So we’re back on the train, in our favorite booth, two bottles of wine down when the attendant comes to our table. Fred orders. “Sorry, sir, all we have left are ham sandwiches and Pringles.” Devastation in the form of a one-hour rant about the decline of the railroad ensues. The jalfrezi had such an impact that we wanted to get it into this chapter. So we asked ex–Joe Beefer and curry pro Kaunteya Nundy to come up with a classic jalfrezi. Not surprisingly, he came up with a recipe that put the VIA Rail version to shame. This is for Fred. And this is what Kaunteya had to say about the dish: “I asked my family what jalfrezi means, and I was told by my Bengali grandmother [Calcutta region] that jal means ‘hot’ and frezi means ‘fry.’ This is a very Anglo-Indian dish that was invented by the British. My mom, Shobhna Nundy, and I created this recipe. We made it three times to make sure that it was just right and would not blow away the ‘white folks’ from a spicy [heat] level.”

Even though peameal has nothing to do with the bacon we know and love, many still refer to it as “Canadian bacon.” They call it that in Canada, the place on both sides of Quebec—joking, joking. . . . Part of the history of Montreal is an overdramatized opposition to Toronto. Maybe it’s hockey, maybe it’s the separatist thing, or maybe it’s just a friendly rivalry. Regardless, we love Toronto. It’s where our favorite butcher, Stephen Alexander, has his shops (Cumbrae’s), and it’s the national capital of oyster bars (Rodney’s, Oyster Boy, Starfish). It’s also home to Kids in the Hall, John Candy, the Black Hoof, and, of course, the Saint Lawrence Market, where you can get a peameal bacon bun with maple mustard. Peameal is not made with peas anymore. Like most aspects of life, ranging from food to plastic, peameal is being taken over by corn. We make our peameal with dried yellow peas crushed in the processor. The purpose of peas or cornmeal is to wick and dry, thus preventing spoilage. You will let the meat brine for a minimum of four full days, ninety-six hours, in the fridge. It is necessary to have a brine injector; they sell them nowadays for under ten bucks in big stores.

This dish is not surprising in taste (it’s duck, sausage, and potato—what can go wrong?), nor very feminine (in other words, it’s not pretty). We like the look a lot, because the fingerlings, duck pieces, and links are all the same size and shape. This is the best way to enjoy duck in the middle of the winter.

We love Dover sole, or at least we used to. It’s not as sound a menu choice these days, so instead we go for local turbot from the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. The classic turbot au vin jaune is exceptional, but said vin jaune can be really difficult to locate. A crisp, dry vermouth such as Vermouth de Chambéry will do.

Some of our favorite customers—that is, Bobby Sontag—say that liver should always be served rare. This is (yet) another time where we disagree with him. Regarding Montreal smoked meat, we have one word: Schwartz’s. Not unlike bagels, smoked meat preferences fuel wars and countless throwdowns. In fact, the best smoked meat is the one you prefer. If you can’t get Montreal smoked beef brisket, you can substitute pastrami or even corned beef.

We came up with this alternative to braised rabbit as a way to eat rabbit in the summer. If possible, ask the butcher to bone a rabbit for you. Be sure to distinguish between the legs and the loins (or saddle). In Canada, asking for the kidneys is no problem. In the United States, it is hit or miss. Sometimes we like to serve the skewers with Gentleman Steak Sauce (page 251) for dipping, but they are good on their own, too. Another nice option is an easy pan jus, made by deglazing the pan with a shot of sherry, then adding 1/2 cup (125 ml) chicken stock and 2 tablespoons unsalted butter.

If you’re French or a Francophile, you know what these are supposed to be: sheep tripe and pig’s trotters cooked together. We didn’t know that, but we knew the name. We just made what we thought it ought to be and it turned out well, if completely unlike the original (we think). This is braised lamb and pig’s trotter with greens and herbs, wrapped in caul fat. The sauce—a French classic with gherkins, mustard, and shallots—is also perfect with chops and liver.

Here in Canada, horse is the great divide between Anglophone and Francophone—more than politics, more than Celine Dion. Horse equals Napoleon versus Nelson, or Wolfe versus Montcalm on the Plains of Abraham. The French do two things that Anglophones find disgusting: eat frogs and eat horse. To Anglophones, horses are royalty. And it’s understandable, as they’re truly majestic. They’re also really tasty. We don’t know anyone who raises horses for meat, yet the meat exists. So, if you don’t want to eat horse that has been on growth hormones and clenbuterol, buy it from a trusted butcher. It has a high iron content and makes a delicious tenderloin or tartare.

This is the one stew you can get away with in the summer, yet crave in the winter. Veal chunks from the hind shank is the best meat for this; cheeks or shoulder is another option. All but the rear leg muscle will work. Of course, mashed potatoes or a marrow pilaf (rice baked with bone marrow instead of butter) is the perfect buddy. As a finishing touch, we like to pimp our blanquette de veau with truffles, cock’s combs, foie gras, or small slices of lobster. It lends regality to an otherwise hearty and simple stew.

This is the kind of dish that used to be prepared tableside in Montreal chophouses. A few restaurants still do tableside crêpes Suzette, steak tartare, and specialty coffees. We get excited like kids on Halloween when we see that cart rolling toward us. It’s tough to do ourselves because of the size of Joe Beef, but we hope it comes back in a big way (and not in the “lavender and tomato essential oils being pumped over my table from a Provençal print balloon as we eat lamb and the waiter tickles our nose and ears with said lamb’s tail” way).

Mint is a classic accompaniment for lamb. And it wasn’t until Jennifer May shot this classic braised lamb recipe with its mint condiment that we really appreciated its beauty. It’s something we imagine on the Sunday table of Mayor Drapeau, who brought Expo 67 and the ’76 Olympics to Montreal (and chased away the hookers and the gangsters—albeit temporarily).

Occasionally we refer to Le Repertoire de la Cuisine, the little brown book of classic French recipes, to find inspiration for the Joe Beef menu. It’s a gold mine of forgotten culinary knowledge, including the sauce paloise, a classic variation on sauce béarnaise that uses mint instead of tarragon. You decide on the meat. If you freak on kidneys, use kidneys. We like it on a mutton chop, one chop per person.

At Joe Beef, we serve this dish with East Coast scallops, about 5 or 6 per person, with a few tablespoons of hollandaise and a nice spoonful of pulled pork on top. Such a portion is a food-cost disaster and intimidating to some*, but the scallops go down easily and they’re better topped with pork than some foamy composition. To make this dish, you are going to work on the pulled pork first, then the hollandaise, and lastly the scallops, as they take only minutes. You will end up with an excessive amount of meat, which you can use to make some pulled pork sandwiches (page 151).

Quick: Fire up your slow cooker for a filling and healthy winter feast. "The low heat preserves more nutrients than grilling, frying or boiling, and helps prevent the formation of carcinogens," says Jonny Bowden, Ph.D., nutritionist and coauthor of the 150 Healthiest Slow Cooker Recipes on Earth. We're loco for this Crock-Pot treat.

No offense to salsa, but come on, who doesn't love a gooey, cheesy bean dip, bubbling hot like lava from the broiler? If you're a chile head, you'll probably want to up the number of chiles and leave the seeds in. If your friends are more, ahem, delicate, then stick with one chile and remove the seeds and ribs.

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.

Colcannon, a classic Irish combination of mashed potatoes with cabbage or kale, is standard winter fare. If that sounds, well, boring, trust us, this version is anything but that. We freshen it up by cooking the potatoes and cabbage separately, then we make it easy to serve for a party by adding an egg and baking it in a pie pan, so that you can cut it into wedges.