Wine

My mother’s version of this juicy pan-fried steak came from her grease-marked kitchen bible, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, by Julia Child. The classic bistro sauce is made by sautéing minced shallots in the same pan as the steak, adding a generous amount of red wine, and finishing it with butter and parsley. Although I love the smoky flavor of the grill, nothing gives the meat a better crust than a very hot cast-iron pan. And if you’re planning on making a pan sauce, those crispy bits left behind by the steak will give it a deep, meaty flavor. But remember to get the pan super-hot and smoking before cooking the steaks. You might have to disconnect your smoke alarm temporarily, but it’s worth it.

This was one of our first Sunday suppers at Lucques. It’s a variation on the classic osso buco, which is traditionally made with veal shanks. I use the same technique, but for this lighter summer version I braise the lamb shanks in white wine and a combination of veal and chicken stock (as opposed to straight veal stock). The tender shanks are a rich counterpoint to the freshness of the shell beans and crunch of the haricots verts. Ask your butcher for lamb osso buco, but if you can’t find it you can use lamb shanks.

My very first chef position was at a twenty-eight-seat restaurant called Alloro, located in Boston’s very Italian North End. At that point in my career, my cooking experience was rooted mostly in French cuisine, but the owner didn’t seem to mind. When I asked him if I had to cook strictly Italian food, his answer was, “No, no, no! Cook whatever you want. We’ll just give it an Italian name.” The French bistro classic salmon with beluga lentils and red wine butter was abbreviated to “Salmone” on the menu, and other quasi-French dishes were likewise masked under short Italian names. The pasta dishes I made at Alloro also strayed from Italian tradition. For my version of the classic spaghetti alle vongole, I added generous amounts of onion, fennel, and olive oil, and sprinkled breadcrumbs toasted with thyme on top. I also finished the sauce with a spot of butter (the French influence again), which thickened and enriched it. In theory, I’m sure my version of spaghetti with clams would outrage purists in both the Italian and the French camps, but one bite ought to be enough to convince them they have lots to learn from each other. Though you might not think of it as such, the water in which you cook pasta is a valuable ingredient, in virtually any pasta recipe. Do your noodles seem a little dry once you’ve tossed them in the sauce? Rather than correcting the problem with stock (which can alter the flavor balance) or oil (which can add greasiness), add a little pasta water instead. Not only will it moisten the dish, but the starch in it (left from the cooking of the pasta) will also help bind the sauce to the noodles. Try it out; it works.

Call me boring, but I prefer my sweets on the simpler side, and I drive my pastry chefs crazy with my penchant for, well, plain vanilla. When it comes to custards, I’m a particularly staunch traditionalist. So, when pastry chef Roxana Jullapat told me about her coconut flan, I was skeptical. But its elegant and classic presentation charmed me instantly—a snow white cylindrical custard oozing with golden caramel syrup and surrounded by Elgin Marble apricots simmered in Beaumes de Venise, orange juice, and spices. Roxana’s coconut flan convinced me that there’s life beyond a vanilla pot de crème (which is also delicious! See page 235).

In Italy, there are many variations of semifreddo, which, literally translated, means “partially frozen.” Sometimes a semifreddo is made from sponge cake layered with slightly frozen cream; other times it’s cake-free, simply a lighter version of ice cream. At Lucques, we make this semifreddo from an uncooked “custard” base that has beaten egg whites (to make it buoyant and light) and whipped cream (to prevent it from freezing completely) folded into it. The result is a creamy frozen dessert that doesn’t require an ice cream maker or a true custard cooked at the stovetop. Strawberry and rhubarb are a classic combination, but though it’s tempting to temper the sourness of the rhubarb with sweet strawberries, I prefer the intense mouth-puckering quality of rhubarb on its own. This is a great party dessert since you can prepare all the components ahead of time.

The first incarnation of this dish did not include rice. Tasting it over and over again, I knew it needed a final element that would bring its flavors into harmony: nutty farro, meaty bass, pungent green garlic, sweet pea shoots, tart tangerines. I racked my brain for just the right thing, then remembered a sample of black rice I had stashed in my desk drawer weeks before. I had little experience with black rice—varieties of rice whose kernels are covered by extremely dark bran. The black rice I found was grown in the salt marshes of the Veneto, so I cooked it in an Italian style. As I would for risotto, I sautéed the rice in olive oil to seal the outer layer and toast it slightly. Then I deglazed with white wine, added water, and let it simmer away. When the rice was done, I found it solved my problem perfectly. The rice’s marshy origins gave it a subtle oceany taste, complementing the fresh fish and giving the entire dish a springtime-by-the sea coherence. What’s more, there was a visual bonus: the black rice was gorgeous to behold, coated in its own deep purple sauce.

This is our favorite sangria recipe—it involves a little more effort than the usual sangria, but its flavor is far more complex than just wine mixed with orange juice. It really should be enjoyed with food, preferably tapas and small plates. It is an excellent companion to cheese and fish as well.

White Sangria is something you really want in the summertime when nothing is going on and it’s hot and very humid outside. We developed this recipe about six years ago and have loved it ever since. Highly suggested for afternoon gatherings and finger foods.

We found this recipe in Jerry Thomas’s 1862 How to Mix Drinks or the Bon Vivant’s Companion, in a recipe for a single serving. It called for Holland gin—or genever, as we know it today—and was probably a very popular drink. The back story is that when planning our first End of Prohibition party we were searching for punch recipes that could be served in teacups. So we started going through books and shot a few ideas back and forth until we found papa Jerry’s recipe. We replaced the genever with Plymouth gin, and with a few more tweaks we got it perfect. The decorative ice block adds a great visual effect.

Blood peaches are large, with dark red skin surrounding a rich, crimson, juicy flesh that is quite tart. They bruise easily, so they are frequently broken down for use in chutneys, jams, pastries, ice creams, and sorbets. We figured this would also mean that they were ideal for making cocktails. The Bellini was the obvious choice as our first guinea pig. We accentuated the bitterness of the fruit with a little Campari while also increasing the intensity of the color. The result is a refreshing eye-opener with slight bitterness and charm. Blood peaches are very rare, fresh or frozen, so if you can get your hands on them, grab them. You can also make this cocktail by blending white peach purée with EO homemade Grenadine for color.

The story of the Bellini begins during Prohibition with American playboy Harry Pickering, who drank at the Europa Hotel in Venice with bartender Giuseppe Cipriani. Pickering’s family had cut off his funds in a last-ditch effort to get him back home and quit drinking. Pickering asked Cipriani for a loan of 10,000 lire—the equivalent of $61,000 today—to get his affairs in order. Cipriani lent him his life savings, only to not hear a word from Pickering for over a year. Legend has it that when Pickering returned to the bar, he ordered a drink and paid Cipriani 50,000 lire as a show of gratitude so he could open his own bar. In 1931, Harry’s Bar in Venice opened and the Bellini cocktail was created there shortly afterward.

Robert Krueger, our bar manager, discovered the New Yorker in a vintage copy of Booth’s cocktail book from the late 1930s. It is an offshoot of the New York Sour, with the addition of club soda. Think of it as a rye Collins with a float of red wine. The New Yorker is tall and fizzy, great for a hot day, and certainly stunning to look at. This cocktail is also a great culinary example of how substituting or adding one ingredient can drastically change the style and feel of a cocktail. The club soda changes the character from a simple sour into a long drink, which changes the perception of consumption by reducing the acidity and intensity in each sip. Whereas a Whiskey Sour is more a late-evening and cold-weather drink, the New Yorker tends to be more of a lazy-afternoon and summertime treat.

We discovered the New York Sour in the summer of 2003 while we were researching cocktails to put on the opening drink list for Keith McNally’s Schiller’s Liquor Bar on the Lower East Side. Visually inviting, this sour is deep yellow with a crimson band of red wine floating on top. The origin of the cocktail is shrouded in mystery, but it is certain that it was served at several New York City speakeasies in the late 1920s. It was no surprise to discover that this cocktail was New York’s Prohibition-era favorite, probably because the lemon juice, sugar, and wine camouflaged and successfully balanced the bad watered-down whiskey common in those days. It was the cool drink to have, and people who ordered it were “in the know.” Think of it as the Prohibition-era Cosmo—or any other status-symbol cocktail that clearly advertises itself in appearance. Made with better ingredients, the cocktail became a masterpiece of complex flavors and mouthfeel. A chef friend of ours once remarked that this drink is like sangria à la minute—and one of the few cocktails that can be successfully paired with a main course.

Stunning to look at, the Greenwich Sour is rich and frothy, with a band of red wine floating on top. It is a variation of a Prohibition classic, the New York Sour. The key difference between the two is that we have add an egg white in our take, a practice common throughout the history of making sours. Many people today are wary about consuming raw eggs for fear of salmonella. The risk of contamination is actually quite low and ca be reduced even more by using eggs from free-range chickens; add high-proof spirit to that, and the chances of getting sick are reduced to almost nothing. The egg white adds texture to the cocktail by trapping air and requires a very long hard shake to create the necessary consistency. Many bartenders will shake the egg white on its own first to begin this process. To give the Greenwich Sour its necessary backbone, it is important to use high-proof whiskey to cut through the sour body. The wine’s tannins add depth to the cocktail and complete its finish.

The name “French 75” refers to the most deadly and accurate artillery piece of World War I: the 75-mm field gun. Some credit WWI French-American flying ace Raoul Lufbery as the creator, who poured a little cognac into his beloved champagne for added kick. Other recipes list gin as the main ingredient in what is basically a Tom Collins with champagne instead of club soda. This recipe is first seen in The Savoy Cocktail Book; author Harry Craddock notes that it “hits with remarkable precision.” Across the pond, the French 75 was made popular at New York’s infamous Stork Club, which opened during Prohibition and survived into the 1960s. Looking back at the historical cocktail record, it seems most likely that this cocktail began as the gin version, then makers shifted to cognac in order to make the drink a bit more French.

The Fraise Sauvage was inspired by the famous pre-Prohibition classic, the French 75 (page 70). The name itself is a play on words in French, meaning “wild strawberry.” This cocktail uses our EO homemade Wild Strawberry Cordial to create a cocktail in the classic style. We shake together Plymouth gin with fresh lemon juice, simple syrup, and strawberry cordial, then top it off with demi-sec champagne. For our first summer menu at Employees Only, we wanted to put on the list a cocktail that would be a crowd-pleaser. Fraise Sauvage is the EO equivalent of the ubiquitous Caprese salad. The flavors of gin, strawberry, and champagne are a timeless combination and showcase how simple flavors can become complex when combined. To make this cocktail without the strawberry cordial, simply muddle a whole fresh strawberry, then follow the rest of the directions.

The original Champagne cocktail recipe illustrates the simplest incarnation of the cocktail in general: spirits or wines mixed with sugar, bitters, and water. Over the years, some recipes for the Champagne Cocktail called for the addition of brandy or cognac for a stronger kick and bigger body. But no matter what goes into it, the drink has always been the choice of prominent and well-heeled U.S. citizens because champagne commands a lofty price and is a status symbol in America. We at Employees Only choose to make this cocktail with Curaçao, specifically Grand Marnier. We find that it adds more flavor notes and blends more effortlessly than does cognac. It’s a misconception that one must use the finest Champagne in this cocktail. Please do not destroy a masterful tête de cuvee with bitters and sugar. Use a well-rounded nonvintage brut, which has the bones for such a cocktail.

This cocktail is an Employees Only variation on the Champagne Cocktail (page 56). In champagne production, when the pinot noir skins are left to touch the juice, they add color and a soft touch of tannins. The result is some of the best aperitif wine available: rosé champagne. Other sparkling wine producers emulate this with rosé varietals, most notably the Spanish with Cava. These wines are truly magnificent, and their affordability makes them very suitable for mixed drinks. Cava rosé has a body and level of dryness ideal for adding sugar, bitters, and Campari to create a sultry variation on the classic Champagne Cocktail. This cocktail is very sexy and inviting and makes a superb aperitif, as well as a great choice for pairing with antipasti, mezes, tapas, or seafood appetizers.