Easy

Most people today understand a Manhattan to be bourbon whiskey with a dash of vermouth, shaken or stirred—little more than a nice way to order a big shot of whiskey. Only recently have people once again acknowledged the necessity of bitters in the recipe. What happened? Prohibition all but annihilated rye whiskey production in this country; by the end of World War II, America had embraced Canadian whiskies as rye, even though most are made of a blend of grains. When we first began bartending, it was common for Manhattans to be made with Seagram’s VO or Crown Royal. But in the early 1990s, bartenders making Manhattans gravitated toward newly released single-barrel and small-batch bourbons to meet the expectations of the luxury crowd. As with Martinis, these customers demanded only a whisper of vermouth so as not to destroy the precious whiskey. Our recipe is an excellent expression of a Manhattan made with soft-natured bourbon. Rye whiskey makes a sharp, racy alternative. As for cherries, keep clear of the big artificial ones floating in eerie red dye. Pit fresh cherries and soak them for a few days in amaretto or cherry liqueur instead.

The Manhattan cocktail we serve is not to be confused with the contemporary Manhattan. This recipe first appeared in the latter part of the nineteenth century and is referenced in later editions of How to Mix Drinks or the Bon Vivant’s Companion as well as Harry Johnson’s 1882 Bartenders’ Manual. This forgotten formula has a higher ratio of sweet vermouth to rye whiskey, with an accent of orange Curaçao and Boker’s bitters, served straight up with a lemon twist. Cherries in Manhattans came later as the mixture evolved into a different cocktail. The subtle mingling of flavors in this version illustrates an older style of drink making. Of course, as with any epic cocktail, there are several conflicting stories about its origins. Our favorite version has Winston Churchill’s mother, Jennie, ordering its creation for the celebration of Samuel Tilden’s election as governor of New York at the Manhattan Club. As exciting as this may sound, it seems that little Winston had more to do with disproving the theory. At the time of the election, Lady Churchill was in England giving birth to Winston, and the only noted celebration for Tilden actually coincided with the day of Winston Churchill’s christening.

This original EO aperitif pays tribute to Italian gastronomy. Its main ingredient, Fernet Branca—made of overly bitter barks, herbs, and spices—is traditionally served as a digestive, but it is rarely used in cocktails because it tends to overpower all other ingredients. Fernet is purported to be a cure-all for many ailments—upset stomachs, menstrual cramps, baby colic, even cholera. It is an acquired taste, which makes it the favorite shot of bartenders who gravitate toward flavors rejected by the general public. The Fernando is rich and chocolaty, slightly sweet, with a bitter finish. To complete the cocktail, the bartender smacks a fresh mint sprig in the palm of the hand to release the essential mint oils. This cocktail is ideal for Negroni drinkers and diehard fans of Fernet alike.

The Elderflower Spritz is EO’s version of the St-Germain cocktail invented by Robert Cooper, the creator of St-Germain liqueur. The difference is that we add lemon slices for citrus in the middle. Our recipe was developed as a French version of the Italian Spritz, to offer to guests who dislike the bitterness of Aperol. Its flowery essence is calming and soothing, with a welcome simplicity.

The Campari Spritz is the predecessor of the Aperol Spritz. Whereas the Aperol version is soft, the Campari version is bold and assertive, so it is served in a smaller rocks glass and garnished with one large green olive. With its robust nature, the Campari Spritz is a very popular aperitivo alongside various antipasti containing olive oil, spices, fresh mozzarella, and seafood such as octopus, calamari, and clams.

I love a good bread and butter pickle, so I decided to create my own version. While I don’t have the classic spices here, my blend of rice vinegar and yuzu juice approximates the same acidity of the original. These are terrific with (or on) sandwiches. Of course, I like to eat them straight, too.

Pickling chiles sounds so much more difficult than it really is. For homemade, all-natural pickled chiles, simply cover them with vinegar. They soften while retaining a little bite and get even hotter while developing a headier flavor. Their acidic pop and bright heat make these my go-to condiment.

I’ve dubbed this my “special sauce.” I use it on every single thing—no joke. I’ve eaten it with savory dishes from artichokes and asparagus to grilled steak and roasted chicken. I’ve even had it with pineapple and mango. If you have a siphon at home, try it with this. It turns a luscious mayo into an ethereal, creamy foam.

Homemade mayonnaise is one of life’s perfect foods. With a hint of garlic, it’s even better. Obviously, this is great on any sandwich, especially a steak or grilled fish sandwich. But it also makes a wonderful dipping sauce. I love it with shellfish, like steamers and grilled lobster. I’ve lived in this country for a long time now, but I still dunk my French fries in mayonnaise. That’s arguably the best use for this simple sauce.

When I decided to open my first steakhouse, I knew I needed to have this sauce. Not for a burger, but for a sliced tomato salad. I wanted to riff on the classic by incorporating French cornichons for pickles and Asian ingredients, like miso and sriracha. The result is intensely flavorful. I love this over slow-baked salmon, but also enjoy it on sandwiches. I’ve even used it in place of mayo in chicken salad and as a dip for crisp, thin onion rings.

This is more than just hot sauce. The funky, fruity blend can sear your tongue, but in a pleasant tingling way that allows you to still taste the layers of flavors. You can use this the way you use bottled hot sauce—for buttery sauces, soups, eggs—you’ll find that it just makes everything taste so much better.

This is possibly one of the most versatile building blocks I’ve ever made. This syrup has found itself into hundreds of my recipes because of its balance of sweetness, heat, and acid. Over the years, I’ve tweaked the mix, changing the acid, adding aromatics. For now, the formula below is what I’m sticking with. Originally conceived as the base for homemade Ginger Lemon Soda (page 25), it quickly became my go-to syrup for spritzers.

While I use this to dress my chicken salad (page 130), I also like it on soft bitter lettuces. Too often, we relegate vinaigrettes to greens, but they’re also good with proteins. This one, in particular, pairs well with salmon, either poached or slow-baked.

Yes, This is good for you. But that’s not the reason I eat it. By whipping the egg whites just until foamy, the resulting omelet is light and delicious. (Unwhisked egg whites get rubbery.) Unlike regular omelets, which shouldn’t color, this one gets cooked in a blazing hot pan until crisped and brown and the fresh herbs get sealed right into the whites. While lemon may seem an unlikely pairing for eggs, the bit of zest at the end adds a brightness perfect for the clean flavors here.

This dish is more or less fried eggs with crunchy, savory bits cooked into them. It’s like a cross between a frittata and an omelet, but a whole lot better. This is Marja’s favorite weekend breakfast, so I usually just make two servings for us to share, but you can easily double the recipe below if you cook it in a large skillet.

One of my first lessons as an apprentice, both in my mom’s kitchen and in my first restaurant position, was how to perfect an omelet. It should be fluffy, with runny eggs, and never browned. Back then, we used steel pans. We now have the advantage of nonstick pans, which make the technique more foolproof and the omelet every bit as delicious. Although the chiles are optional, they’re my favorite part of this dish. They add a bright note to accent the wilted spinach and creamy goat cheese melted into the eggs.

I consider myself a pretty high-energy guy, but some mornings, even I need something that will really wake me up. The fresh ginger and pinch of salt brighten the fresh fruit and vegetable juices here, making this an ideal breakfast drink. It also cures a hangover like nothing else. Or so I’m told . . .

When we have a lot of people over for brunch, I love serving my version of a New York classic. Each person can easily pick up a stack—only half a bagel—from a tower and not get full on too much bread. You can even cut each tower into quarters so your guests can pick up a bite. I like using H&H poppy seed bagels, but feel free to substitute your favorite bagel.

One saturday, Greg Brainin, my director of creative development, threw this together for his daughters. When he made it for me the following Monday, I knew it would become a regular weekend treat for my family, too. It’s as comforting as a classic buttery coffee cake, but the crunch of raw sugar and sea salt in the topping makes it taste refreshingly new.

One summer morning, I decided to make good use of the ripe stone fruit I had picked up at the farmer’s market. I didn’t have any brioche at home, but I did have a loaf of sourdough. It turned out that the tanginess of the bread was delicious with the sweet fruit. And amaretto adds just the right hint of almond.