Dairy Free

Mama Colaruotolo traces this dish back to her ancestral home in Italy. While it originally called for Italian white wine, she substitutes her family’s Finger Lakes Chardonnay to create a New World masterpiece. The Finger Lakes wine adds distinctive fruitiness to the dish, even better the next day, allowing the flavors to integrate even more.

This tangy herring pickle somehow made its way from northern Europe to Nova Scotia, where you can find it in every grocery store. It’s like roll mops but less sweet. Here the classic preparation is done not with salted herring but with fresh salmon, which we salt the living daylights out of, then desalt and pickle in jars. It screams saltines and mustard. The Nova Scotians will tell you that the name Gundy is Nova Scotian, but the Brits, the French, and the Jamaicans all claim it for their own, too.

Here is a recipe for a brine that is sufficient to pickle up to 10 normal-size eggs. If you are using quail eggs, you can obviously pickle a lot more. The day we took this picture we had quail eggs, but truly, our favorite eggs are the smallest hen eggs available: the peewees. We even love the name, and their size is perfect because you can gobble up two or three. Remember to leave your eggs at room temperature for an hour before cooking them.

You will need a smoker that can be controlled or a grill and a chip box for this recipe and a supply of maple wood or maple wood chips.

My mom use to take me and my brother to a pastry shop in a weird apartment building in Ottawa, and it had the best pastries. She would always choose the merveilleux. A meringue dessert is the best thing to make when you want to use up egg whites, after, say, an eggnog party! We make it every few weeks at the restaurant and pour hot chocolate sauce over the top at tableside. Everyone digs it.

We champion this generalization: gentlemen eat their beef with steak sauce—the brown type, thick and sharp. Although we support Heinz ketchup and we think it calls for respect and pride, we don’t use bottled steak sauce. Here is an easy and tasty alternative. It is delicious with Filet de Boeuf (page 248).

A great way to maintain matrimonial bliss is not to make classic stock in your house. Do this one instead. It’s another one-Creuset wonder where everything goes in the oven. It’s enough for a few recipes, plus you can eat the meat with pickles and mustard for a classic French snack. You can use a bit more meat if you have it. This is more of a guideline than a recipe. Remember that when you make a stock, it has to look like you would want to eat the meat at any stage—that is, don’t use old meat or lean cuts. You want that marrow taste and that thick jelly feel.

Montreal institutions like Gibbys and Moishes have been selling their own classic steak spice for decades. Here’s our take on the Montreal steak spice. This is an all-purpose seasoning used in many Montreal-style beef, pork, and steaky fish dishes.

Hot, it’s beef stew. Cold, it’s jellied beef stew.

Every year we buy a large jar of herbes salées in Kamouraska. It’s a typical Bas Du Fleuve product that lets you enjoy the taste of garden fresh herbs when the temperature is –4°F (–20°C) and your backyard is under a blanket of snow. It is essentially a big spoonful of herbs with carrots and onions that stay fresh because of the brine. You can use this traditional northern condiment with anything: potatoes, soups, seafood, lamb, gravies, terrines, and meat pies.

This is a great dressing. We use it on our Parc Vinet Salad (page 190), and it’s also the best with Belgian endive and blue cheese (page 191). Plus, it works to pimp any sauce that needs a sugarvinegar hit, it’s great on top of cold crab or lobster, and it doubles as a verjuice when you need to acidify a jus. If you have easy access to great apples (that is, you live somewhat close to an “apple belt,” as we do), this dressing will become a staple. Just mix it up and pour it into a plastic squirt bottle.

Fred’s mom is from Belgium, and like most Europeans who lived through the war, she can’t bear the smell of Jerusalem artichokes, which, along with rutabagas, were the readily available vegetables in those years. Supposedly, they are a miraculous food, with some claiming they cure diabetes, and pet-food makers thinking about putting them in cat food so used kitty litter would remain odorless. Says Fred: “I still couldn’t stomach them, until I tried a batch at Toqué! during a staff meal. They were killed in coarse pretzel salt and dunked in ketchup. Another case of the sum being light-years from the parts!”

If you want long sticks of rhubarb, peel the rhubarb first. If you want 1/2-inch (12-mm) chunks, don’t bother peeling it. This is pickle in a small amount, so don’t bother canning it, either. But do keep it in a proper (sparkling clean, tight cap) container in the fridge, where it will keep for up to a month. We serve this pickle with charcuterie and cheeses.

This is only a Parc Vinet salad when the garden is lit with the floodlights of the Parc Vinet ballpark directly behind all three restaurants and we’re harvesting enough greens to fill a bowl. Although this light salad seems a bit un–Joe Beef, it is in fact the best partner to a browned-out meal of wine reductions, marrow, and other consorts. We use whatever herbs and greens we have to make it, and this is what you should do, too. Let’s say 40 percent bitter greens, 40 percent sweet greens, and the rest in fines herbes. Just don’t go and put in rosemary. If it’s got woodsy stems, keep it out of the bowl. And do not use commercial salad mix. That’s not the point of this salad.