Red Wine

Save this recipe for late February, when spring garlic first appears in markets. For this dish, it’s best to use larger heads, planning on one large or two small heads per serving. Piecing out the squab makes for much easier eating and allows you to cook the different parts perfectly, with the added bonus that the wings and body add incredible depth and flavor to the sauce. If you think your knife skills aren’t up to par, you can ask your butcher to do it for you, but be sure to reserve all the pieces. If your guests are big eaters, you might want to double the recipe to allow for one squab per person and serve as an entrée. Lentils would make a nice side.

After a rugged weekend of deer hunting, this is the dish I celebrate with . . . okay, not really. I buy farmed venison, just as you will. The nice thing, other than not having to don your camo and risk getting ticks, is that farmed venison is less intense than wild deer meat, with a rich, sophisticated flavor that is perfectly accented with a simple agrodolce. Forget about beef tenderloin and serve this instead—I promise the luscious texture and wild essence will win you over. As with tenderloin, though, make sure you serve the venison rare.

I grew up on this everyday pot roast, which each member of my family makes with his or her own special twist. My mom swears simple is best, with nothing more than meat and vegetables to flavor the dish. I, on the other hand, add wine, broth, and herbs to maximize the flavor of the meat, and I roast most of the vegetables separately so they get nice and caramelized on the outside and soft and sweet in the center.

I often serve this dish when I have guests because it makes for such easy entertaining—something you’d never know from the complex combination of flavors that emerges as the red wine and orange-spiked pepper jelly melt into a sweet and spicy glaze over the heat of the grill. Don’t forget to budget at least two hours of marinating time before firing up the grill.

The wonderful contrast between buttery, almost confited duck legs and crispy, skillet-fried breast is worth the little bit of extra effort this dish requires. Add a bottle of Syrah or Pinot Noir and a few easy sides, like a simple green salad and Buttermilk Mashed Creamers (page 238), and you’ve got the makings of an elegant dinner party.

This sumptuous steak dish makes for a spectacular celebration meal. Beef tenderloin steaks are stuffed with a garlicky cream cheese mixture, seared in a hot skillet, and served with a warm, fragrant red wine sauce. The trick is chilling the stuffed steaks to firm up the cream cheese so it stays put while the steaks are cooking. All this meal needs is your favorite potato dish (simple roasted new potatoes with herbs would be my choice), a simple salad, and a lusty bottle of red wine. I suggest drinking the same style of wine that you use to make the sauce. If you are short on time, these steaks are great without the sauce too.

I love the rich and “wild” taste of quail. I’m not alone: because the flavor is appealingly gamey (but not as liver-y as squab), it’s one of the most popular and accessible game birds on the menu. At Bayona, I use Mississippi bobwhite quail, which is particularly plump and tender, but any variety will work in this recipe. When marinated and grilled, quail makes for the ultimate finger food. But the birds become sexy and sophisticated when paired with a lovely red wine sauce, plumped tart cherries, and sautéed spinach. Add a wedge of crispy polenta or some herb-roasted potatoes and you have a sweet and savory main course.

I always tell people that I want Bar Americain to feel French but taste American. This is a classic bistro or brasserie dish that you would find in Europe, and by making it my own, perhaps with a California Zinfandel wine and vinegar, I think we manage to do just that—feel French, taste American. This is an incredibly comforting dish capable of warming your whole being on a cold fall or winter’s day. I like the spicy heat of merguez sausage in this dish, but you could certainly use another variety of lamb or even pork sausage if you so choose.

Tender veal is most commonly served in lighter preparations because of its delicate nature, but the porterhouse cut is substantial enough to allow for a truly rich and deeply flavorful sauce such as this one. Intensely sweet dried figs steeped in wine join a reduction of wine and veal stock to form a syrupy glaze that coats the veal in flavor. Cabernet vinegar (though another red wine vinegar will do) balances the figs’ inherent sweetness with its bright acidity. Uncommon as they are, veal porterhouse chops make this a memorable, special-occasion dish, but you could certainly substitute thick-cut pork chops with excellent results.

This dish is a celebration of the Pacific Northwest’s Native American heritage. Native Americans were the first to cook salmon in this way, slowly roasting the dense flesh on cedar planks arranged around an open fire. (You can get the planks at a hardware store.) A light smoky essence permeates the fish as it cooks, boosting the flavor quotient of rich salmon. In addition to the salmon that run though its waters, the Pacific Northwest is known for its lush and balanced Pinot Noir wine. A reduction of the wine is the basis of a darkly fruity, savory sauce that finishes the dish.

Cooking over cedar planks creates amazing flavor, infusing every bite with smoky complexity. And so I decided it was time for salmon to share the cedar love and give burgers some of that star treatment. It works. Since this is, after all, a method born in the Pacific Northwest, it only seems right to outfit the burger with toppings inspired by the region. A barbecue sauce made with Pinot Noir—the grape that put Oregon’s wine on the map—and an earthy sauté of wild mushrooms flavorfully fit the bill.

I’m betting it took a strong stomach to handle what cowboys called son-of-a-bitch stew, a concoction that included cow innards, even, and especially, the guts. “A son-of-a-bitch might not have any brains and no heart, but if he ain’t got guts he ain’t a son-of-a bitch” is the old cowboy saying. Known as son-of-a-gun stew in polite company, the dish was standard chuck wagon fare and said to include everything from a young calf but “the hair, horns, and holler.” According to Come an’ Get It: The Story of the Old Cowboy Cook by the late western folklorist Ramon F. Adams, the real thing did not include any vegetables save perhaps a “skunk egg,” cowboy slang for onion. I guess the only thing that my stew has in common with the cowboy favorite—and I know I am stretching things here—is my use of venison, just about as accessible to many of us Texans as the calves were to cowboys on the range. Everyone around here shoots deer, and many of my friends have freezers full of venison to prove it. If you don’t, feel free to substitute beef stewing meat. You can make this stew up to 3 days in advance, or freeze it for up to 3 weeks.

Before I give you this recipe, I must tell you a story. It is about a tall, handsome, talented young man who walked into our restaurant one hot Saturday afternoon. This beautiful young man had an equally beautiful and charming young woman on his arm. I could hear the wait staff just a’buzzing. Being ever watchful, I came out into the dining room to make sure all was well. I saw that our hostess had seated the couple, so I walked over and introduced myself and welcomed them to our home. That hot afternoon I had the pleasure of getting to know Harry Connick, Jr., and his lovely wife, Jill. I have Harry and Jill to thank for one of the most memorable nights of my life. Harry was performing that night at the Johnny Mercer Theater, but much to my dismay I had been too busy to get tickets. I laughingly told Harry that with the exception of him, just about everyone I cared to see in concert was dead, and because of my lack of organization I was going to miss this opportunity. With a sweet smile and a twinkle in his eye he said, “Well, I’m just not going on tonight if you’re not going to be there.” I repeated that I didn’t have a ticket. Harry and Jill just smiled and said, “Yes you do. We’ll have five tickets waiting at the box office for you and your two sons and their dates. Be there at 7:30.” Shortly before show time Harry called the restaurant to see what was cooking. Well, every Saturday night we serve our wonderful Southern Pot Roast and Mashed Potatoes on the buffet. Harry’s instructions were to put as much pot roast and mashed potatoes on one plate as we could, and to fill another plate with Jill’s favorite, the collard greens. I was home getting ready to attend the concert when our manager, Renee, called to ask if I could pick the plates up on my way to the concert. I agreed, and said, “While you’re fixing Harry’s and Jill’s plates, how about a platter of fried chicken and biscuits for the band members?” So my sons, their dates, and I, loaded down with food, took off for the concert. We had the pleasure of feeding the Connicks for a second time on that steaming hot day of August 21, 1999. The concert was wonderful! Harry left me speechless in the middle of his performance by recounting our meeting and describing the meals that he and Jill had enjoyed that day. Just when I thought he couldn’t be sweeter, Harry dedicated his next song to me. The song was “Sensational.” Needless to say, I was a puddle in my chair! Thank you, Harry and Jill, for a wonderful night. How proud your parents must be to have raised such gracious, thoughtful, considerate people. This one’s for you, Harry!

To “mull” wine simply means to flavor it with anything from spices to fruits as it heats. A warming brunch drink on chilly days, this one relies on the best-quality brandy you can find. It’s a matter of personal preference as to what kind of wine to use. I like a nice Cabernet or Merlot.

This is good for a lunchier-leaning brunch with steak and potatoes. I like to use Tempranillo or Rioja wine in this festive drink, which looks beautiful on the table. Start the sangría a day ahead of time so that the fruit can marinate. Once it’s made, sangría will keep for two days in the refrigerator.

Onions make an important contribution to the filling of pies, providing a sweet balance for the savoriness of the meat and a necessary change of texture, too. A meat pie with no onions would be hard going. I rarely make a meat pie. It is one of those recipes I reserve for a cold autumn day, when it’s too wet to go out.