This salad is a visceral experience, like you ran through the garden with a weed whacker. Made up of pieces of fresh herbs that are just shy of being too big to eat, it’s a wild and reckless bowl of green with a sexy crunch. At Dad’s, it stands up to the wrath of a greasy diner burger and a yolk-exploding mushroom sandwich. The ingredients list is anarchic; you can decide for yourself what your handfuls are, changing up the herbs and sprouts as others come into season. You can use a salad spinner to wash it all, but I like to get my hands in it, mix it up well, and let it drip dry. Then you’ll dress it with Hippie Vinaigrette (page 53), and your folks will chomp on it like they’re herbivores.
This dish is the ultimate mash-up between two gold-standard sal- ads: the classic steakhouse wedge (think iceberg lettuce and way too much creamy dressing) and the feta-flecked, veggie-stuffed chopped salad I grew up eating. I definitely surprised myself a lit- tle bit when I reached for iceberg lettuce as the base, but once I loaded it up with cherry tomatoes and cukes, fresh mint, and garlicky bread crumbs that work their way into every crevice and cranny, I realized it was the only choice. But the real star is the rich, creamy feta and yogurt dressing. I highly recommend serving some on the side for extra dunking, in addition to keeping a batch in your fridge for an impromptu salad or dip moment.
Triple onion power here, with caramelized onions, spring onions and onion powder for maximum flavour. Get your favourite crunchy crisps out and enjoy.
Vegan | Gluten-Free | Dairy-Free
This recipe comes from my mother-in-law, Mary. She’s taught me a lot of great cooking tricks and is an absolute force in the kitchen. You know Mary is cooking when you walk into the house and the music is pumping at full volume. I’ve changed some of the seasonings and herbs, but the timing and technique here are all hers. This is an easy, totally hands-off method of cooking fish, which makes it an ideal recipe for new or nervous cooks—for all cooks, really!
Salmon rillettes have been welcoming guests to Le Bernardin for many years. More than a canapé, they’re a convivial offering that invites guests to share and enjoy – something I hope sets the tone for their dining experience.
It’s important that the salmon is cold when you mix it with the mayonnaise; otherwise, the sauce will break. You want the mayonnaise to be creamy, not oily. If you are making it from scratch, I recommend grapeseed oil, as it stays emulsified and doesn’t congeal when chilled. Add the chives at the last minute so as not to overpower the salmon with a heavy onion taste. You can refrigerate the rillettes (without chives) for up to 2 days, but once the chives are added, the rillettes last only a few hours before they develop an overwhelming onion flavor.
When we decided to write this book, our first thought was, “You know what the world needs right now? Another take on vitello tonnato!” Just kidding—nobody needs another version of this classic Piedmontese dish. But because tomato season is so special and because Ryan’s and Steph’s moms really loved this version, in which savory beefsteak tomatoes play the part of thinly sliced veal, we just had to include it in here.
I’ll never get tired of eating this salad for lunch— lemony lentils and crisp veggies doused in a creamy green dressing. But I don’t make it the exact same way every time. Instead, I play around with the herbs in the dressing. I might use parsley instead of cilantro or experiment with adding tarragon, dill, or chives. I love that it’s a little bit different each time I eat it!
Indonesians eat a little sambal (a fiery chili condiment) with every bite of food. You’ll find it served with noodles and fried rice, plonked into soups and curries, dolloped over fritters, even eaten on its own with just a plain bowl of rice. When the idea struck to pair crisp, golden chunks of potatoes with sambal – a nod to the iconic Spanish dish patatas bravas, in which fried potatoes are served with spicy tomato sauce, sometimes topped with mayonnaise – I ran to the kitchen.
While traditional patatas bravas, and most Indonesian potato recipes, use a deep fryer, I’ve opted for roasting them in the oven until golden for ease. This simple sambal begins with a paste of red chiles, garlic, shallots and ginger, a quintessential base for many Indonesian meals. The sauce, once reduced, reaches a peak of tomatoey-umaminess hot enough to tingle your mouth.
Combined with the crispy, golden potatoes and a liberal coating of Kewpie mayonnaise (use vegan mayo if you prefer), it will keep you diving back in for more. Is this dish an appetizer, an entrée or a side? It could be any of these, but whatever you serve it with, it will be certain to steal the show.