Leafy Greens

Because cool-season crops such as cabbage and cauliflower are difficult to grow in Vietnam, they enjoy a special status. In fact, my dad remembers how his mother carefully tended the cabbage heads in the family garden, covering each one with a cooking pot to encourage the leaves to curl. When we came to the States and found cabbage so readily available, my mother began fixing this easy stir-fry regularly for our weeknight suppers. I have since followed suit, and also sometimes serve it as a simple lunch with rice. The naturally sweet and spicy cabbage ribbons are enriched by a coating of egg, while a final splash of fish sauce adds a nutty, briny flavor.

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.

This is an egg sandwich I could eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Tangy sourdough bread is grilled to crusty perfection and topped with a meaty slice of griddled country ham, blistered sweet tomatoes, and a perfectly fried egg. A lightly dressed mound of slightly bitter, feathery frisée crowns this fork-and-knife sandwich.

This is a fantastic fall dish. The great thing about venison is that it has very little fat and is quite good for you. Red cabbage is a classic accompaniment to venison, especially in the Germany-influenced cuisine of France’s Alsace region. Baking the cabbage into a savory bread pudding Americanizes the traditional combination. The purple ribbons look beautiful running through the golden currant-studded, clove- and ginger-scented pudding. Baking the cabbage also mellows its somewhat astringent quality, making it accessible to those who may be less fond of its assertive flavor. Concord grapes are in season for a very short period of time, and their delicious, juicy, sweet-tart flavor is a highlight of the season. This sauce calls for Concord grape juice, which is always available, even when the grapes themselves are not.

Collard greens are a point of southern pride. Any barbecue or soul food restaurant worth its salt has a place for these mustardy-flavored greens. In the South, collard greens are typically cooked with a ham hock or smoked turkey wings to give a great smoky flavor to the greens and the broth—or pot liquor as it is referred to in local parlance. You can definitely add either to this recipe, but I like to use chipotle chiles to give not only smokiness but also a little heat to this dish. I prefer my collard greens to retain some bite and cook them until tender, not to melting. The greens have a natural sweetness that is both accentuated and balanced by the finishing splash of apple cider vinegar. Sweet, smoky, and slightly vinegary, these collard greens definitely deliver a touch of soul to the table.

This dish is Louisiana all the way. Crawfish are eaten in other states, to be sure, but no one is as passionate about these crustaceans as are Louisianans. And rightfully so; the state is responsible for producing more than 80 percent of the world’s crawfish! Crawfish look like tiny, clawless lobsters, and though they are not directly related, their taste is similar. The lobster stock in the rich, creamy sauce enhances that similarity. Sweet trout fillets get an old-fashioned cornmeal crust and are panfried to a light golden brown before being set down on a pool of the pink sauce.

Many people think the term porterhouse refers to the size of the steak, but that is not the case. Porterhouse is an on-the-bone cut with a portion of the flavorful strip on one side of the bone and the tender filet on the other. With its lacquering of barbecue sauce and side of a corn–collard green tart, this dish is an ode to the South. The Carolinas are fanatical about mustard-based barbecue sauces. Mustard lends a tangy heat that is offset by dark, sweet molasses, and both are mellowed by mild honey and light rice wine vinegar. This barbecue sauce is as at home with lamb as it is with the smoked pork of the Carolinas. The tart’s savory filling is basically a corn pudding run through with strips of collard greens.

The dominant component of any good crab cake should always be crab—not breading. An extra finely milled flour such as Wondra is the perfect binder; it helps hold the cake together without adding its own texture or flavor to the mix—this is all gorgeous crab. The spicy-sweet tang of roasted piquillo peppers gives these crab cakes a kick of rich flavor. This gorgeous purple slaw, with ribbons of bright green basil running throughout, is slightly sweet and totally fresh. More than a garnish, it delivers crunch and taste that complete the dish.

Here is that American favorite, Chicken Cordon Bleu, deconstructed. This gorgeous dish pulls the soggy ham and cheese out of the stuffing, layering them instead over a crisp, juicy chicken cutlet. The rich triple cream cheese begins to melt when it hits the panko-crusted chicken, which then anchors the paper-thin slices of cured ham to them both. Baby arugula is tossed in a bright, acidic vinaigrette of Dijon mustard and red wine vinegar before being placed atop the dish. The peppery arugula and mustardy vinaigrette cut through the richness of the cheese and complement the salty ham. I serve this at lunch, but it would be wonderful at dinner as well.

The joy of a chopped salad is that there is no need to compose each forkful to make sure you have the perfect bite—every uniformly sized morsel is already tossed and mixed together for a whole plate full of perfect bites. Green, almost grassy in flavor, asparagus is one of spring’s delights. Grilling enhances its flavor and imparts a pleasant bit of char to the salad. Briny olives, sharp cheddar cheese, and tender chickpeas add substance to the mix, while crispy bits of fried pita bread lend a salty crunch and additional texture. (We make our own pita chips at the restaurant, and the directions to do so are here, but you could certainly skip this step and use crumbles of your favorite bagged pita chips instead.) Slightly sweet, slightly tart, definitely delicious, this Meyer lemon dressing pops with whole grain mustard, lemon zest, and honey.

Fish tacos originated in Mexico’s Baja California and spread up the coast to southern California. Versions featuring deep-fried fish are the most common, but I prefer to grill light, flaky red snapper for these tacos. The grill gives the fish a touch of smoky, charred flavor, which balances the fresh garnishes of tart tomatillo-avocado relish and crunchy red cabbage slaw. Cabbage is a traditional garnish for fish tacos and keeps its crunch factor long past the point when lettuce would have wilted. I make my slaw from a mix of delicate, pale green napa and deep purple red cabbages. Sweet basil may seem an unexpected choice, but its flavor complements the citrus juice in the slaw’s vinaigrette and offsets the assertive cilantro in the charred tomato salsa.

A trip to New York City wouldn’t be complete without stopping in a Jewish-style deli, and you can’t go to a New York deli without trying a Reuben sandwich piled sky-high with corned beef brisket, sauerkraut, Swiss cheese, and Russian or Thousand Island dressing. This is my southern take on that great sandwich. Lean bison is naturally lower in fat than beef, but its flavor is quite similar and you should feel free to use beef brisket if you can’t find or don’t care for bison. I often dress red cabbage as coleslaw for sandwiches, but cooking it first mellows its bitter note. Hundred Island Dressing is revamped from the original with a substitution of pickled okra for pickle relish. Okra reinforces the southern touch that’s also present in the barbecue sauce.

Horseradish is the common link between the ketchup-based cocktail sauce you are used to and this, its Bar Americain reincarnation. Tart tomatillos are roasted and blended with garlic, red onion, jalapeños, and cilantro for a sauce indebted to the flavors of the American Southwest. The secret to its bright green hue is the addition of blanched and chopped spinach—the flavor isn’t noticeable, but the color certainly is.

This is a sophisticated take on an American classic, the Waldorf salad. Tart crisp apples, piquant blue cheese, and rich, crunchy walnuts combine to create a salad with layers of flavor and texture. Slightly sweet, deliciously tangy pomegranate molasses is the key ingredient in the vinaigrette, binding all of the elements in place of the traditional mayonnaise-based dressing. Tender baby spinach and crisp endive amp up the fresh factor of this hearty salad.

This is an obvious play on the southern pulled pork sandwich, which is typically made with braised pork shoulder. Duck legs are an interesting upgrade. While duck breasts are best cooked quickly and served rare, the legs need to be slow-cooked to make them tender. I believe in employing strong flavors such as fresh ginger, star anise, fennel, and cinnamon to cut through the richness of duck. The pickles and coleslaw are optional, but I can’t imagine having a pulled pork—or, in this case, pulled duck—sandwich without them. That crunchy, vinegary bit of freshness truly rounds out the sandwich.

Once you taste this dressing, you’ll be reluctant to use a bottled variety again. Given how extremely simple— and quick—it is to prepare, you won’t need to. Crisped cubes of bacon, eggs, and blue cheese often come together over a bed of bitter frisée, but I think that tender Boston lettuce makes a superb substitution. Its sweet leaves get some punch from peppery radishes and the tangy buttermilk-based dressing.

Bob and Nancy Green live on the land Bob’s pioneer father settled in 1881 and Bob has been a rancher for most of his life. Now in her eighties, Nancy continues to indulge her lifelong passion for entertaining. She favors groups up to sixteen, because she can seat them all “gracefully” at her table without having to round up chairs from other parts of the house. Nancy keeps her guests happy with a good supply of cornbread, baked in a Texas-shaped skillet.

For Southerners like me, there’s not a better meal on the planet than cornbread, beans, and greens cooked with lots of bacon. I know a lot of good old ranch cooks who feel the same. There wasn’t much green to eat for cowboys on the range, but beans cooked with salt pork were common. So common, in fact, that cowboy nicknames for beans were many: Mexican strawberries, prairie strawberries, and whistle berries. But the funniest of all, recorded in Ramon F. Adams’s book Come an’ Get It, was “deceitful beans ’cause they talk behind yore back.”

Lou Lambert, another one of my chef friends who grew up on a ranch, now owns two Texas restaurants—Lamberts Downtown Barbecue in Austin, and Lambert’s steak house in Fort Worth. Lou got the idea for his seared chickpeas when he was a kid growing up on the family ranch near Odessa. “We had a camp cook who would make hominy loaded with chili powder and garlic. I adapted his dish with chickpeas. I originally put this on the menu at the first Lambert’s on South Congress, and it has been a mainstay at all the restaurants since.” I’ve been coveting this recipe ever since I first tasted it at Lou’s first restaurant. Now that I have it, I know it will become a mainstay for me, too, especially when I have some entertaining to do.