Quick

The term “tifozi” is slang used to describe hardcore Italian soccer fans, and there is nothing more hardcore Italian than this aperitivo. The Tifozi (see photo) is an EO original based on the Americano cocktail (opposite), intended to be a humorous salute to its namesake. It is bitter, sweet, sour, and fizzy with the addition of San Pellegrino Aranciata, a natural orange-flavored soda. The lime wheels add freshness and life to the cocktail.

Whether or not this drink is truly an ancestor of today’s Dry Gin Martini (with which it has little in common), it is a great model in the cocktail fossil record because it showcases how certain ingredients were used before the twentieth century: back in the day, maraschino liqueur and orange Curaçao were two cordials used interchangeably (depending on availability) as sweeteners in cocktails. Vermouth was always sweet Italian red vermouth; French or dry vermouth were not popular in cocktail making until the end of the nineteenth century. Legend says this drink was named for the small Northern California town where a Gold Rush miner ordered “one for the road” before heading for the hills.

This EO original aperitif (see photo) was inspired by the Negroni cocktail (page 42). It is a great example of how elegant and complex three liquids blended in a cocktail can be. Its rich flavors come from amaro, which we use in place of Campari, and Punt e Mes, in place of traditional sweet vermouth. Amaro is a bitter Italian digestif made from herbs and plants; for the Nerina, we prefer Meletti amaro, which has a beautiful spice profile with lingering notes of cinnamon, but is light on caramel compared to other amaros. Punt e Mes is a highly bittersweet aromatized wine, considered by some to be the original of Italian vermouth. Combined and blended with gin, the ingredients create a cocktail of simple sophistication. The name is a nod to the classic Negroni cocktail. Being a dark-hued drink, Nerina comes from nera, the feminine Italian word for black.

In the mythology of classic mixology, the Martinez is purported to be the predecessor to the Dry Gin Martini. When we researched the original version of this cocktail, though, we saw very little resemblance to what people today refer to as a Martini. In an act of artistic interpretation, we devised a recipe to be the “missing link” to articulate the evolution of these two iconic cocktails. In doing so, we created a more dry—and more exciting—flavor profile than that of the original Martinez. Our missing link provides an experience with a beginning, middle, and finish that lingers, leaving you craving more. This is best achieved with the combination of Beefeater 24 gin, accents of maraschino liqueur, and the super velvetiness of Dolin Blanc vermouth. Finally, our own homemade Absinthe Bitters round it out and add incredible depth. This drink has been offered on our aperitif menu since we opened Employees Only. It goes great with raw oysters or raw bar of any kind and works well with summery salads and seared scallops.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I started shopping in supermarkets only after we got our country house and I needed to stock the kitchen there. When I went into the Whole Foods near my flagship restaurant, I was astounded by everything they sell. They have a machine that lets you make your own almond butter! I like to grind it so that it’s almost smooth but still a bit chunky. On grainy bakery bread with bananas, it’s heaven. This is what I eat for breakfast every morning. It’s best with a cup of hot coffee.

I roast my potatoes with garlic and herbs, so why not do the same when boiling them? I discovered that the aromatics really infuse the potatoes when you start them together in cold water and then heat them to boiling.

Too often, summer squash ends up watery and soft. By cooking the squash on a rack, I release the water and give the squash an almost fluffy texture. The cheese creates a crisp, savory crust that makes this dish irresistible.

In spring, garden peas and young carrots need little embellishment to taste amazing. It’s all about the execution. You want them just tender, but not crunchy. And you use only a little butter here—just enough to make the vegetables glisten.

People often ask me why the asparagus in my eponymous restaurant tastes so much better than similar-looking spears they’ve had elsewhere. The answer is simple: We cook each batch to order. Most kitchens blanch the asparagus early in the day and then reheat it just before serving; a lot of flavor is lost that way. This is one of the first lessons my chef de cuisine Mark Lapico teaches new cooks at my flagship. Once you try this recipe at home, you’ll never throw your asparagus in ice water again. Of course, you can make this dish with olive oil, but it’s especially good with butter.

This simple blend of high-quality butter and fresh fines herbes goes with everything. You can even use it to butter good bread. I especially like it on vegetables and fish.