Elk Loin, Carrots, and Celeriac with Pickled Blueberries
Grilled Quail with Vegetable Succotash
Roasted Piglet with Sauce Gribiche
Pork Ribs with Pig Skin XO Sauce
Terrine Board: Who Really Cares about Charcuterie Anymore and Here’s a Little Ditty about Kungfu
The P&L Pork Belly Pancake with Maple Trotter Sauce
The Super Festival County Doughnut (Not a Beaver Tail)
Opening night at Parts & Labour when I was twenty-seven; walking by the customers, stressed out and giving cut eye. Lisa Canamoto in the foreground, poorly taking a drink order.
The magic that many never understood or loved to hate
Parts & Labour came from Kei Ng and Brian Richer of Oddfellows teaming up with Jesse Girard and Richard Lambert from a nightclub called The Social to open up a restaurant in the neighborhood of Parkdale. Trust me: Opening a restaurant in Parkdale in 2010 was a crazy idea and still is to this day. I had been living in the neighborhood since 2004, and it had only two chef-driven restaurants, the Cowbell and Local Kitchen and Wine Bar. Everything else was a dive bar or diner. Brian and Kei were to design and execute the build-out, and Jesse and Richard were to be the operators, running the day-to-day business.
Oddfellows was still going strong two kilometers east of where Parts & Labour would open. The original idea for Parts & Labour was to scale up and try to do Oddfellows on acid. With twenty-six seats and a twenty-six-year-old cokehead chef, Oddfellows was doomed from the beginning. So naturally, we thought opening a bigger one would be a great idea.
At Parts & Labour, we wanted to have live punk music in the basement and contemporary French food with unpretentious service upstairs. We had a rooftop garden that we called Parks & Rec. Katie Mathieu was our permaculture designer and Victoria Taylor was our landscape architect. They created an amazing 1,800-square-foot organic garden, where we grew carrots, radishes, and many other things. It ended when our neighbor ratted us out to the building inspector and our garden was deemed an illegal structure. It was nice to get three summers out of it.
While working on this book, my friend and three-year-suffering cook at the restaurant Alex Goodall reminded me of the time I came back from cooking at a dinner with the Group of Seven Chefs at the James Beard house in New York. It was a big deal for me. We were the first Canadians ever to cook there. I came back with a newfound pride for my work as a chef. I was drinking my own Kool-Aid; the ego was really setting in at this moment.
The Group of Seven Chefs had a celebratory dinner at Per Se in New York City. We were all talking about how the restaurant has sense of urgency signs hanging in their kitchen under each clock as a mantra for the standards they want to maintain. I loved it, so I came up with my own for Parts & Labour. When I returned, I stuck a large piece of masking tape on the pass (where we would keep our food orders) and wrote a phrase on it. Full of pride, I showed my brigade the new sign:
N-O C-O-M-P-R-I-S-E
No Comprise. My misspelled version of No Compromises. Even though it was misspelled it hung in the kitchen for weeks. It was a perfect metaphor of what P&L was. A restaurant trying to be what it wasn’t. We just weren’t those kinds of chefs.
I fucked up by thinking we could serve that kind of food in that space. It didn’t work. Within a year and a half we had to change our menu format and way of service. Our food and staff costs were way too high for the kind of business that we were doing. In what world do you think we could be serving horse tenderloin and elk tartare to a large number of customers blasting music, trying to get them drunk on whiskey? Our original menu format was appetizer, main course, and dessert. We could not execute at the level we wanted with the staff we had. Because we had large communal tables, every single table turned into Chuck E. Cheese’s; every table was a birthday party of at least ten people. Cooking main courses for ten to twelve tables at one time meant being backed up so badly that some tables would have to wait almost two hours for a main course. We had to change. It was too intense for that style of cooking.
Parts & Labour was crazy during this time. Everyone on staff was partying till five in the morning, every night. Parts & Labour became more than Oddfellows on acid. It became a monster that we couldn’t control. Finally, everything caught up with me. I was exhausted from trying to make the restaurant the best I could and from partying harder than I ever had before, if you can believe that. And then it all came to a screeching halt after a three-day bender of no sleep, drinkin’, and druggin’. I had a heart attack. I was crushed. I thought the ride was over.
The doctor told me to take three months off. That did not happen. After being in the hospital for five days, I was back at work within ten. As a lot of people in the industry know, it is very difficult for chefs to take any time off, let alone three months. We had a lot of steam, and everything was going well. P&L Catering was about to launch, and the restaurant was as busy as ever. I did end up not drinking or doing drugs for three months. I had a lot of pressure to get back to work. Then one night I had a drink, and all of a sudden, I was back in the grips of partying for about two years. I manipulated, stole, lied. I was running the restaurant and doing what I had to do to survive: lying, hiding, and going places I’d never been before. My friends, my girlfriend, and everyone were worried about me. I didn’t care that I’d had a heart attack but everyone else did. I felt that I was invincible. My old drug dealers wouldn’t sell me drugs because they didn’t want me to die on their bag. I started going to different bars, and I started getting different drug dealers. I didn’t want the party to be over, but it was for everyone else. Richard, Kei, Brian, and Jesse were growing up and trying to make Parts & Labour a really good restaurant. And I kept on being the kid. I pushed their patience to its end and they were tired of Matty fucking everything up.
Juxtaposition of flowers and indulgences
There was an intervention. It was Richard, Hambone, Wade, and Benny, and they just said, “You’re done.” And I said, “Okay, I’m done.” We talked for hours. The next day I went to my first meeting. I haven’t had a drop in almost five years.
I was still working every day and going to a meeting every day. They were so understanding. If a meeting was at 8 p.m. during service, they would let me leave and come back. They always told me, Whatever you need to do to not die. It was life or death, it was friendship over business, as it always had been.
During this time I started doing stuff for Vice. At first, I taped a small series of shows for Munchies called Hangover Cures. After I got sober, I called Patrick McGuire to tell him I couldn’t tape a show where I drank anymore. Vice said, No problem, and we developed a how-to video for making a burger. I couldn’t believe it. I got paid $500 for taping that thing, which is the most money I ever made in one day up to that point. It now has over six million views on YouTube. That led to even more how-to videos on everything from pancakes to mac and cheese with Cheetos on top to the online show Keep It Canada, which combined touring Canada and hanging out with local chefs and purveyors. I couldn’t believe it—I was getting paid to travel across Canada and hang out with my chef buddies.
It was obvious, within a year and a half of shooting Hangover Cures, How-tos, and Keep It Canada, Vice started pulling me away from the daily operations of the restaurant. And that was before Viceland offered me Dead Set on Life, where I traveled the world six months out of the year. Shooting that show was an incredible opportunity. All of a sudden, I became a celebrity chef guy. I was booking appearances and dinners. And P&L started to feel like a job I wasn’t doing properly. Brent Pierssens, who has been at P&L since day one, became chef de cuisine and started running the day-to-day, and I became the face for a year and a half. As Dead Set on Life and eventually It’s Suppertime! started to take up an even larger part of my time, I felt like it was disrespectful to take Kei, Brian, Jesse, and Richard’s money when I wasn’t there. It crushed me but we all knew it was time for me to move on from Parts & Labour. It was not the same restaurant we opened nine years before and I was not the same person. I owe them literally everything. I love you guys.
For some reason, I thought pickled blueberries were cool. If you ate at Parts & Labour during our first few months, it was a little rough. We were serving food that was maybe not the perfect fit for the room, but I loved these perfect little blueberries on anything, especially roasted elk loin.
This is one of those very straightforward dishes that we tried to make complex with the plating. We served it on a wooden cutting board because . . . why not? It’s funny to look back at trends from nine years ago. Back then, everyone was serving everything on wooden boards. We just drank the Kool-Aid and put pickled blueberries with elk on a wooden board. I was immature; I could have avoided being some trend-jumping punk chef and just served it on a plate like an adult.
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SERVES: 2
PREP TIME: 1 DAY, PLUS 30 MINUTES
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FOR THE PICKLED BLUEBERRIES:
½ cup (100 g) granulated sugar
1 cup (240 ml) white vinegar
1 cup (240 ml) dry white wine
3 pints (435 g) blueberries (preferably wild-picked)
FOR THE CELERIAC PUREE:
3 celery roots, peeled and quartered
½ cup (120 ml) heavy cream
¼ cup (60 ml) maple syrup
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) cold unsalted butter, cubed
Kosher salt
FOR THE CARROTS:
2 bunches nice baby carrots with tops
2 tablespoons canola oil
1 shallot, peeled and diced
¼ cup (60 ml) red wine vinegar
¼ cup (60 ml) maple syrup
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
FOR THE ELK:
2 (4-ounce/115 g) elk loins
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
¼ cup (60 ml) canola oil
FOR THE DEMI-GLACE:
1 cup (240 ml) demi-glace
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
Juice of 1 lemon
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
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Make the pickled blueberries: In a large pot, combine the sugar, vinegar, wine, and 2 cups (480 ml) water; bring to a boil. Let cool to room temperature and pour over the blueberries in a bowl; refrigerate 24 hours.
Make the celeriac puree: Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil; add the celery root and cook until fork-tender, about 15 minutes.
Transfer the celery root to a blender and pulse, then add some of the cream and maple syrup (to taste), then add the cubed butter. You will need to eye this because you want it to be a nice, smooth puree—stiff but still very smooth. Pass the puree through a fine chinois, then place in a saucepan over low heat until needed for plating. Season with salt to taste.
Make the carrots: Cut off the tops of the carrots, leaving ½ inch (12 mm) of greens. With the tip of a paring knife, scrape around the edges of the carrots to remove the dirt from around the greens, then scrub the carrots under cold water. You don’t have to peel the carrots.
Heat the oil in a medium pan over medium-high heat and drop in your carrots. Scorch them, then add the shallot. Add the vinegar to deglaze and reduce by half, then add the maple syrup and butter and season with salt and pepper to taste; swirl the pan and this will become agrodolce, so to speak—the sweet and the sour and the butter will make almost a caramel sauce that will surround the carrots and make them very desirable. We are cooking them for about 15 minutes total and leaving them in the pan to keep them warm.
Cook the elk: Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C). There is no fat on elk loin, so it’s difficult to cook it evenly and make sure that it’s not dry. When dealing with a lean meat, letting it temper is key—sear it quickly and place it in the oven for just a few minutes to heat through. (Also, letting lean meat rest is very important.) Set a cast-iron pan over medium-high heat (the pan should not be smoking, just hot). Season the elk with salt and pepper, then pour the oil in the pan and place in the elk. Sear until golden brown, 1 minute on each side.
Place the elk on a rack set on a baking sheet and cook in the oven 3 minutes. Remove and tent with aluminum foil; let rest 10 minutes.
Make the demi-glace: In a small pot over medium heat, heat the demiglace, butter, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Whisk to combine. Turn off the heat and keep ready to plate.
Spoon some celeriac puree and carrots on a plate. Slice the elk and fan. Cover with the demi-glace and decorate with the pickled blueberries.
This dish was served during the summer months at Parts & Labour. It was a beautiful dish. We had a rooftop garden at this point and were getting some amazing vegetables: radishes, carrots, lettuce, peppers, cucumbers. But don’t worry: You don’t need a rooftop garden. This recipe is very adaptable. In the winter you could use squash, beets, rutabaga, and turnips—it’s pretty much just a bunch of vegetables chopped and cooked down quickly with chicken jus and mustard seeds. It makes a great bed for a charred honey-basted bird to lay to rest. People always wanted a burger at Parts & Labour, but we had such great dishes like this one. I hope this recipe connects you with vegetables.
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SERVES: 2
PREP TIME: 1 DAY PLUS 30 MINUTES
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FOR THE QUAIL:
2 quails
½ cup (120 g) kosher salt
2 tablespoons sugar
4 sprigs thyme
2 bay leaves
2 cloves garlic, peeled
Zest of 1 orange
FOR THE HONEY BUTTER:
¼ cup (60 ml) good honey
¼ cup (½ stick/55 g) cold unsalted butter, cubed
2 sprigs thyme, leaves picked
½ clove garlic
Zest of ½ lemon
FOR THE VEGETABLE SUCCOTASH:
4 quarts (3.8 L) chicken stock
4 pearl onions, peeled and chopped
3 pattypan squash, chopped
2 baby zucchini, chopped
1 long garlic scape, chopped
2 baby leeks, cleaned and cut lengthwise
½ cup (60 g) diced butternut squash
3 cremini mushrooms, chopped
3 sunchokes, chopped
1 tablespoon mustard seeds
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
Freshly ground black pepper
1 bunch chervil, chopped
1 bunch parsley, chopped
1 bunch tarragon, chopped
1 bunch chives, chopped
FOR SERVING:
1 mandarin orange, lemon, or lime (optional)
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Make the quail: When you get the whole quails, hopefully they have their feet and heads attached. You can cut off the heads and discard, or you could cut them in half and simmer them in the chicken jus for the vegetable succotash. Cut the spine from the birds with good kitchen scissors so you can grill them flat.
In a food processor, make the salt cure: Combine the salt, sugar, thyme, bay leaves, garlic, and orange zest; process until fully incorporated.
In a baking dish, make a little salt-cure bed about ¼ inch (6 mm) thick for your quails to lie on, meat side down. Push the quails onto the cure and sprinkle a little of the cure on the skin side as well. Massage the cure into the skin, then cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate 3 hours. Remove the quails and brush off the cure. Tie the feet of the quails and hang them upside down in the refrigerator 24 hours with a baking sheet or plate underneath to catch any blood or drips.
Make the honey butter: In a medium pot, place the honey, butter, thyme leaves, garlic, and lemon zest and bring to a boil; turn the heat down to low until needed. It should be golden brown and frothy. It’s very easy to burn, so keep an eye on this.
Make the vegetable succotash: In a large pot, bring the chicken stock to a boil; reduce to 1 cup (240 ml), about 30 minutes.
In another large pot, place the onions, pattypan squash, zucchini, scape, leeks, butternut squash, mushrooms, and sunchokes. Add the mustard seeds and the reduced chicken stock; bring to a boil. Don’t cook for more than 5 minutes—you want the vegetables to still have a crunch. Once it turns to sauce consistency, add the mustard and butter; remove from the heat and stir.
Add the lemon zest and juice, pepper, and a handful of chervil, parsley, tarragon, and chives.
Grill the quail: Heat a grill to high. Remove the quails from the refrigerator and grill flat, skin side down; leave the feet near the edge of the grill so they don’t burn, 2 to 3 minutes. Once you get a little color on the skin, flip the quails and start basting with the honey butter. Flip and baste, cooking until the quails are sticky and charred, 6 to 8 minutes total.
Spoon some of the vegetable succotash on a plate, then place 1 quail on top. Squeeze some citrus on top if desired.
There’s more meat on a pig’s head than you would think—you can get about five to seven pounds of meat, fat, and skin from one. It has the most delicious melt-in-your-mouth texture. The jowl, the cheek, the fat, and the skin combine together for something special. This meat can be used in soups, terrines, stews, scrapple, sausage, testina, and so many other amazing dishes.
When we opened Parts & Labour, I decided to serve fried pig face. It was on my first menu draft, it made its way to opening day, and we sold it for two years. This was the only dish that never changed at Parts & Labour. If you want to sell headcheese or fromage de tête in your restaurant, it is very difficult. Now, we called it fried pig face, and for some reason everyone wanted it, everyone talked about it, and we sold a lot of it. Little golden nuggets of fried pig face, served with my grandfather’s mustard pickles and a mustard-seed demi-glace that just made the dish a home run. If you ever sold headcheese in your restaurant, you also know that it’s very good for food cost (not that I knew anything about food cost really at that moment).
I also remember almost every review questioned why we called it pig face. To be honest, I just thought it sounded cool and was a little more original than headcheese. Try to find a butcher who can sell you a pig’s head, or even just buy headcheese and you can do everything else. Making headcheese takes five days, so strap yourself in because I’m going to show you how to make this Parts & Labour classic dish. But not really classic because I don’t think anything I’ve ever done is classic. Pretty much everything I’ve ever cooked has just been pretty much okay.
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SERVES: 4
PREP TIME: 5 DAYS
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FOR THE HEADCHEESE:
1 pig head
10% brine (this page)
3 onions, peeled
4 carrots, peeled
4 stalks celery
1 leek, cleaned
1 bunch thyme
1 bunch parsley, chopped
1 bunch tarragon, chopped
4 bay leaves
2 tablespoons coriander seeds
2 tablespoons white pepper-corns
Gelatin sheets, if needed
FOR THE BREADING STATION:
2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
4 eggs, whisked
3 cups (240 g) panko bread crumbs
3 cups (720 ml) canola oil
FOR THE MUSTARD-SEED DEMI-GLACE:
3 tablespoons mustard seeds
1 cup (240 ml) demi-glace
Zest and juice of ½ lemon
¼ cup (½ stick/55 g) cold unsalted butter, cubed
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper (optional)
Mustard Pickles (this page), for serving
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When you buy the pig’s head, ask your butcher to shave any extra hairs, and if you get a little scruff, take a disposable razor and shave that piggy for its last time. If the head is not already split, place it on a heavy cutting board facing away from you and, with a heavy weighted cleaver, cut into the top like you’re splitting wood. After 4 to 6 whacks, the head should be split. Be mindful of splinters of bone.
Brine the pig’s head halves (see this page); put a plate on top to make sure the head stays in the brine and refrigerate 3 days.
Place the head in another large pot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil, then pour off the water and scum. Rinse the head quickly with cold water again, then return to the same pot, cover in cold water, and bring to a boil; skim any remaining scum and turn the heat to low and simmer.
Add the onions, carrots, celery, and leek to the pot. Add half the thyme, parsley, and tarragon, the bay leaves, coriander, and peppercorns. Simmer 2½ to 3 hours, until you can puncture all the way through the jowl with a wooden skewer with little resistance. You don’t want the meat to fall off the bone, and you don’t want it cooked too much: You want the jowls to be soft yet firm, the ears just crunchy. This takes time and a very steady simmer.
Remove the head and place in a large container. Carefully remove all the vegetables; place the onions, carrots, and leek on a baking sheet and discard the celery. Through a fine strainer, pour just enough of the cooking liquid to cover the head; cover and refrigerate 24 hours. Pour the remaining liquid into another pot and reduce by half over medium heat. Strain again and let cool, then refrigerate 24 hours (that liquid will become the jelly that holds the headcheese together). If your reduced pig head liquid isn’t a thick and tight jelly after 24 hours in the fridge, bring to a boil and add some gelatin sheets—I would add 4 sheets per 1 cup (240 ml) liquid.
Remove the head from the liquid-turned-jelly. Wipe the jelly off the meat with your hands and place the head on a baking sheet skin side down. Using your hands, pull all the meat from the bone, making sure to keep the meat in big pieces. Cut off the ears and julienne; cube the meat, fat, and skin into thumb-size pieces and add to a large baking dish. Dice the carrots, onions, and leek. Add just enough diced vegetables to the baking dish. You want about 4 cups (195 g) chopped pig and 1½ cups (190 g) diced vegetables. Add the remaining parsley and tarragon.
Bring the pot of reduced braising liquid to a boil, then let cool to room temperature. Add just enough liquid to cover the meat. (The meat should almost be floating.) Stir the mixture and wrap the dish with plastic wrap; refrigerate 24 hours to set.
Invert the baking dish onto a baking sheet. With a blow torch, run the flame over the bottom of the dish to release the mixture. Cut into 1-inch (2.5 cm) cubes. Place on a tray and put in the freezer 15 minutes.
Pour the oil into a large pot over medium heat. While the oil is heating, set up a breading station: Place the flour and some salt in a bowl, the eggs in another bowl, and the panko bread crumbs in another bowl. Remove the cubes from the freezer and bread them: First dust in the flour, then dip in the eggs, then coat in the panko, and place on a rack over a baking sheet.
Once the oil has reached a temperature of 320°F (160°C), use a spider to carefully lower a handful of breaded cubes into the hot oil. Cook until golden brown on the outside and molten on the inside, about 5 minutes.
Make the mustard-seed demi-glace: In a small pot over medium heat, place the mustard seeds and demi-glace; melt. Remove from the heat. Add the lemon zest and juice, butter, and salt and pepper, if needed; stir until emulsified.
Open a jar of mustard pickles and strain all the liquid and reserve. Place the pickled veggies in a food processor and blitz once on pulse—you don’t want a puree. Transfer to a bowl and add just enough mustard pickle liquid back to the relish.
Spoon some mustard pickle relish and some mustard-seed demi-glace onto a plate and place the crispy hot fried pig face on top.
Roasted pork is one of the best things in the world: the cracklings, the fat, the meat. Please find a trusted butcher—he or she has put the time in and gained farmers’ trust so that we can enjoy beautifully raised animals. Once you’ve had a few amazing roasted pork loins, pork ribs, or pork bellies, it’s time to talk to your butcher and get some piglet. We would get piglets from Société-Orignal, which was an amazing supplier from Quebec that would sell only the best products. These beautiful pigs would come whole to our restaurant, and we would butcher them into sausage, chops, and roasts, and one lucky table could order the whole roasted head. But my favorite part is roasting a whole front leg and serving it on a large plate lined with a chunky sauce gribiche. I don’t like when it is emulsified. I find it’s pretty much tartare sauce, which is not great for this dish at all. Maybe if we’re making fish and chips. Roasting a piglet’s leg is easy and very rewarding. The skin gets so crispy—like glass—the fat is so sweet, and the meat is beyond juicy; it’s fucking mental. The trick is to dry out the leg for two days in the fridge, uncovered. This will ensure you get a super-crispy roasted pork leg.
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SERVES: 6
PREP TIME: 3½ HOURS PLUS AN OVERNIGHT BRINE
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1 leg of a piglet
10% brine (this page)
4 hard-boiled eggs, separated and diced
2 shallots, peeled and diced
8 cornichons, diced
1 stalk celery, diced
¼ cup (35 g) capers, minced
3 tablespoons Dijon mustard
½ cup (120 ml) champagne vinegar
2 cups (480 ml) canola oil
1 small handful tarragon, chopped
1 small handful Thai basil, chopped
1 small handful Italian basil, chopped
1 small handful cilantro, chopped
1 handful chopped flat-leaf parsley
1 small handful mint, chopped
1 small handful green onions, chopped
Zest and juice of 2 mandarin oranges
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
Freshly ground black pepper
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Brine the piglet leg (see this page) for 24 hours.
Place the pig leg on a wire rack on top of a baking sheet lined with paper towels and air-dry for 24 hours. Change the paper towels if any blood drips down. This will dry out the skin, which will make it amazingly crispy.
Preheat the oven to 325°F (165°C). Remove the paper towels from the baking sheet and place the pig leg (with the wire rack and baking sheet) in the oven. Roast 2½ to 3 hours. You’ll know it’s cooked when you can poke a sharp wooden skewer into the fattest part of the leg and the skewer goes all the way through, like butter. Nothing should stop it; all the connective tissue will be broken down. If you want more color, turn up the heat at the end to 400°F (205°C) until the desired color, about 10 minutes. Blast it, and the skin will get even crispier. Keep an eye on it.
While the pig leg is roasting, make the sauce gribiche: Place the diced egg whites, shallots, cornichons, celery, and capers in a bowl. Place the egg yolks in another large bowl. Add the mustard and vinegar to the egg yolks and whisk until smooth. Then drizzle in the oil and whisk the mixture like your life depends on it. After you’ve emulsified about 1 cup (240 ml) oil, just pour in the remaining oil and make the sauce split but keep whisking. You now have this really weird separated sauce; add the egg white mixture, the tarragon, Thai basil, Italian basil, cilantro, parsley, mint, and green onions to the mixture. Whisk until smooth. Add the zest and juice of the oranges and lemon. Finish with a bunch of salt and pepper.
Remove pig leg from oven and let rest for 20 minutes. If you want to serve this family style, place the roasted leg of piglet on a wooden cutting board with the bowl of sauce gribiche. With the fruity, salty, herby, acidic gribiche, it’s a match made in pig heaven. Slice at the table to impress your family and friends.
Everyone loves ribs! When I was dreaming up this dish, I wondered, what if you ground boiled pig skin and combined it with XO sauce? Boiled skin is very similar to dried seafood once it has been reconstituted. When we first made this at Parts & Labour, my sous chef Geoff was given the task of working on this, and he killed it. The first time we made it, we nailed it. And that doesn’t happen often, let me tell you. It was a huge success in our minds. Now, did the dish sell? Hell, no! Why would anyone buy pig skin XO sauce pork ribs? Even though I was known for selling odd meats, this dish just didn’t work, so it didn’t last long on the menu. But for some reason, I really loved it. We served it with lightly cured cucumbers and some crème fraîche with a little dusting of homemade chili powder. This XO sauce is great for chicken, fish, roasted squash or pumpkin, dumplings, soup, or even just on some steamed rice.
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SERVES: 4
PREP TIME: 3 HOURS, PLUS 24 HOURS
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FOR THE XO SAUCE:
1 cup (200 g) dried shrimp
1 cup (200 g) dried scallops
2 pounds (910 g) fresh pig skin with fat attached, sliced into 3-inch (7.5 cm) strips
¾ cup (100 g) peeled and minced garlic
¾ cup (75 g) minced fresh ginger
¾ cup (25 g) diced lemongrass
¾ cup (65 g) cleaned and diced leeks
1 cup (200 g) diced fermented Chinese sausage
2 cups (480 ml) rendered pork fat
6 tablespoons (90 ml) cognac
½ cup (120 ml) malt vinegar
¼ cup (60 ml) fermented chili paste
1 cup (240 ml) canola oil
2 quarts (2 L) pork stock
½ cup (30 g) thinly sliced scallions (white parts only)
Fish sauce
FOR THE PORK RIBS:
1 full rack pork spare ribs
1 cup (240 ml) hot Chinese mustard
½ cup (50 g) Chinese five-spice powder
FOR THE CUCUMBER SALAD:
1 English cucumber, skin on and chopped
Juice of 2 limes
3 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
Kosher salt
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
2 bird’s eye chile peppers, thinly sliced
Roots of 1 bunch cilantro, sliced like chives
FOR SERVING:
2 limes, quartered
Crushed peanuts (optional)
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Make the XO sauce: Place the shrimp and scallops in a container and cover with warm tap water; refrigerate 24 hours.
In a large pot, place the pig skin and cold water to cover; bring to a boil, then simmer until tender, 2 hours. Let the skin rest on a baking sheet until it comes to room temperature. Use a large metal spoon to scrape all the fat off the skin (you do not have to be meticulous). Separate the fat and reserve. Slice the skin and cut into a small dice; place in a bowl and reserve.
In a blender, place the garlic, ginger, lemongrass, leeks, and sausage; blend. Transfer the blended mixture to a medium pot; add the rendered pork fat and the scraped pig fat. Cook over medium-low heat until lightly browned, about 10 minutes.
Drain the shrimp and scallops and pulse in a food processor 3 or 4 times. Do not puree. Add to the cooked vegetables and sausage.
Deglaze the pot with the cognac and vinegar; add the chili paste and the oil. Add 1 quart (960 ml) pork stock and reduce by half; cook until the sauce is thick and rich, about 10 minutes. In a bowl, combine the mixture with the pig skin; mix well. While this sauce sits overnight, the skin just absorbs all the flavor. Add the scallions; add fish sauce and oil to taste.
Cover and refrigerate overnight. It will fully set like a brick of butter because of the pork fat. When you want to use some, just spoon a bit out and warm it in a pan until it melts.
Make the pork ribs: Preheat the oven to 250°F (120°C). With your fingers and a paper towel, clean the ribs by taking the silverskin off the back. Rub the mustard into the ribs, then season heavily with the five-spice powder.
Place the ribs on a rack in a baking sheet and cook in the oven 3 hours, until they are fork-tender but not falling off the bone. Heavily wrap in plastic wrap, then wrap in a dish towel and rest, 1 hour.
Make the cucumber salad: In a bowl, season the cucumber with the lime juice, vinegar, salt, and sugar. Add the chile peppers and cilantro roots; let marinate at least 1 hour in the fridge.
Unwrap the ribs and place on a clean baking sheet. Turn the oven to broil. Spoon the XO sauce over the entire rack of ribs and place under the broiler. Keep your eye on them. Once the ribs start getting sticky, after 1 minute, remove them from the broiler and add another coating of XO sauce. Return to the broiler and cook until crispy. Place on a cutting board.
To serve: Slice the ribs and put on your favorite plate. Add the limes and cucumber salad. Add some crushed peanuts, if desired. Help yourself.
Minced spicy lamb, fermented mustard greens, crushed peanuts, fermented chili paste, and spicy broth combined for a classic dish at Parts & Labour. I haven’t had it in months, and I’m literally trying to figure out how to get some delivered to my desk while I’m writing this. Parts & Labour is closed right now, and I’m fucking starving.
The inspiration for this dish happened on a rainy night in Vancouver, which has amazing Asian restaurants. I was with some friends, and we were eating the best dumplings and noodles I’d ever had. The dandan was so spicy, and the funky mustard greens, the spicy oil, and the noodles were so incredibly good. I immediately wondered how I could make it at Parts & Labour. Make it spicier? Use lamb? I really hope you make this dish.
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SERVES: 6
PREP TIME: 3 DAYS
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FOR THE FERMENTED MUSTARD GREENS:
1 bunch mustard greens, cut into 2-inch (5 cm) pieces
2 tablespoons kosher salt
4 tablespoons (60 g) ground turmeric
FOR THE DANDAN BROTH:
3 pounds (1.4 kg) pork bones
3 pounds (1.4 kg) lamb bones
4 onions, quartered (unpeeled)
2 carrots, peeled and cut lengthwise
1 bulb fennel, quartered
2 jalapeño peppers, halved (keep seeds in)
Canola oil
1 knob ginger, peeled and sliced
1 bunch parsley
3 bay leaves
1 bunch cilantro
2 tablespoons coriander seeds
2 tablespoons star anise
3 tablespoons black peppercorns
1 cinnamon stick
2 tablespoons allspice
5 cloves garlic, peeled
Kosher salt, if needed
FOR THE DANDAN NOODLES:
4 cups (500 g) all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 teaspoon baking soda
About 1 cup (240 ml) room-temperature water
FOR THE DANDAN MEAT:
½ cup (120 ml) canola oil
2 tablespoons minced fresh ginger
2 tablespoons peeled and minced garlic
2 tablespoons minced red chiles
½ cup (55 g) diced Spanish onion
2½ pounds (1.2 kg) ground lamb leg or shoulder
1½ tablespoons tomato paste
2 tablespoons Chinese five-spice powder
¼ cup (60 ml) creamy peanut butter
¼ cup (60 ml) hoisin sauce
2 tablespoons malt vinegar
Kosher salt
FOR SERVING:
Crushed peanuts, chopped cilantro, sliced cucumber, bird’s eye chile peppers or sambal
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Make the fermented mustard greens: Place the mustard greens in a colander over a bowl and toss with 1½ tablespoons of the salt. Massage with your hands and let the water release. You want the greens to look withered. Give them a squeeze and really work them.
Bring 2 quarts (2 L) water to a boil. Add the remaining 2½ tablespoons salt and the turmeric. Stir to dissolve, then let cool completely.
Give the salted greens a quick rinse and use a salad spinner to dry them as much as you can. Place the mustard greens in a container with a lid. Pour the turmeric brine over them. Let sit 48 hours at room temperature, then refrigerate 24 hours.
Make the dandan broth: Preheat the oven to 400°F (205°C). Roast the pork and lamb bones until deep golden brown, 45 minutes.
Place the onions, carrots, fennel, and jalapeños on a baking sheet. Add a drizzle of oil and toss to evenly coat the vegetables. Place in the oven and roast alongside the bones until caramelized. Stir every 15 minutes so they char evenly, until golden brown, about 1 hour.
Place the bones and vegetables in a large stockpot and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil and skim the scum; turn the heat down to low and add the ginger, parsley, bay leaves, cilantro, coriander seeds, star anise, peppercorns, cinnamon stick, allspice, and garlic; simmer 4 hours.
Using a fine chinois, strain the stock into another pot. Bring to a boil and reduce by half, about 10 minutes. Season with salt, if necessary.
Make the dandan noodles: Using a fork, combine the flour and baking soda in a bowl until thoroughly mixed.
Slowly add the water and knead the dough with your hands until it starts to come together. Place the dough on a work surface and knead until homogenous and slightly tacky.
Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate at least 40 minutes.
Let the dough come back to room temperature, about 30 minutes.
Cut the dough into quarters and roll out each quarter into a thin sheet about ¼ inch (6 mm) thick. Cut each sheet into a square, roll into a tube, then slice into thin strips, running the knife across the rolled tube of dough. Toss the strips in flour so they don’t stick, then gently dust them off and divide into 6 equal piles.
Make the dandan meat: In a large heavy-bottomed pot set over medium heat, heat half the oil. Add the ginger, garlic, red chiles, and onion (making a mirepoix); cook until golden and caramelized, 5 to 7 minutes.
Set a large cast-iron pan over high heat. Add the remaining oil, or just enough oil to cover the bottom of the pan. Place some of the lamb in the pan and sear it. Don’t disturb the lamb until browned and caramelized, then flip it like a pancake, using a metal spatula. It will break apart, but that’s okay. Sear the opposite side. Once you sear both sides, add to the pot with the mirepoix. Repeat with the rest of the lamb.
Add the tomato paste to the large pot of mirepoix and ground lamb. Cook 3 minutes, then add the five-spice powder and stir to incorporate.
Add 1 quart (960 ml) dandan broth and cook over medium heat about 10 minutes. Add the peanut butter, hoisin sauce, and vinegar. Stir and turn the heat down to low; leave until needed.
Put it all together: Reheat the remaining broth. Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Place a portion of the noodles in the water 1 minute, then remove and place in a bowl. Scoop some dandan meat on top, then ladle some soup broth down the side of the bowl and fill only halfway up the noodles. Add crushed peanuts, fermented mustard greens, chopped cilantro, sliced cucumber, and some sliced bird’s eye chile peppers or sambal, if you want it spicy.
I love everything about this dish. I love buffalo wings and I love sweetbreads, so why not deep-fry beautifully poached sweetbreads and coat them in buttery hot sauce on a fresh Parker House roll? Once again, this is a dish that really shows how we cooked whatever we wanted at Parts & Labour. This dish is eight years old. Wow . . .
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SERVES: 4
PREP TIME: 4 HOURS
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FOR THE PARKER HOUSE ROLLS:
¼ cup (60 ml) warm water
2 teaspoons active dry yeast
¼ cup (50 g) granulated sugar, plus a few pinches
1 cup (240 ml) room-temperature milk
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter, melted
3 whole eggs
1 tablespoon kosher salt
4 cups (500 g) all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting
1 egg yolk
2 teaspoons Maldon salt
FOR THE PICKLED RED ONION:
1 red onion, peeled and sliced into thin rounds
Juice of 1 lemon
2 tablespoons white vinegar
Sugar
Kosher salt
FOR THE BLUE CHEESE DRESSING:
1 cup (135 g) crumbled blue cheese
½ cup (120 ml) sour cream
1 cup (240 ml) mayonnaise
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 tablespoon white vinegar
10 cracks fresh black pepper
1 teaspoon kosher salt
FOR THE SWEETBREADS:
1 cup (240 ml) Frank’s RedHot original sauce
½ cup (1 stick/115 g) unsalted butter
1 tablespoon garlic powder
1 tablespoon cayenne powder
Sea salt
2 pounds (910 g) sweetbreads
2 cups (250 g) all-purpose flour
3 eggs, whisked
1 cup (80 g) panko bread crumbs
4 cups (960 ml) canola oil
FOR SERVING:
1 head iceberg lettuce, sliced into chiffonade
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Make the Parker House rolls: In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the dough hook attachment, combine the water, yeast, and a few pinches sugar. Let the mixture stand until foamy, about 10 minutes.
Add the remaining sugar, the milk, half the melted butter, the whole eggs, and the kosher salt to the foamy yeast and mix on low until combined. Increase the speed to medium. Slowly incorporate the flour into the mixture and knead until a soft, sticky dough forms, about 5 minutes.
Turn the dough out onto a flour-dusted work surface. Knead the dough into a smooth, soft ball, using more flour as needed.
Grease a large bowl with some of the melted butter. Place the dough in the bowl and brush the surface with melted butter. Cover with plastic wrap and let sit until the dough has doubled in size, about 2 hours.
Place the dough on a flour-dusted surface. Using a rolling pin, roll the dough into a 10 by 12-inch (25 by 30.5 cm) rectangle.
Cut the dough into 12 equal rectangles. Brush melted butter over half of each rectangle, widthwise. Grease a 9-inch (23 cm) square baking pan with melted butter.
Fold the dough rectangles in half. Place them in the greased pan 3 across and 4 down. Cover tightly with greased plastic wrap and let rise in a warm place 30 minutes.
Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).
In a small bowl, mix the egg yolk with 1 tablespoon water. Brush the egg wash over the dough and sprinkle with Maldon salt. Bake in the oven until golden brown, about 45 minutes. Let stand 5 minutes before removing from baking pan.
Make the pickled red onion: Place the red onion in a bowl. Add the lemon juice, vinegar, 3 pinches sugar, and 2 pinches salt; mix with your fingers. Let sit at room temperature until the onions turn bright pink, about 30 minutes, then place in the fridge until needed.
Make the blue cheese dressing: Add all the ingredients to a food processor and blitz 1 minute.
Make the sweetbreads: In a cold pan, pour the hot sauce and add the butter, garlic powder, and cayenne. Warm gently, whisking; do not boil. Keep warm until needed.
Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Rinse the sweetbreads under cold water 15 minutes. Blanch the sweetbreads 5 minutes, then transfer to an ice bath 10 minutes until chilled. Slice the sweetbreads into 2-ounce (55 g) portions, and peel off any extra membrane.
Set up a breading station: Place the flour in a bowl, the eggs in another bowl, and the panko bread crumbs in another bowl. First dust the sweetbreads in the flour, then dip in the eggs, then coat in the panko, and place on a rack set on a baking sheet.
In a deep pot, heat the canola oil. Once the oil has reached a temperature of 325°F (165°C), carefully fry the sweetbreads until golden and crisp on the outside and warm in the center, 3 to 5 minutes. Place on a baking sheet.
Gently toss the sweetbreads with the hot sauce.
Put it all together: Slice the Parker House rolls in half; in a nonstick pan, toast them. Place a little blue cheese dressing on the bottom buns. Top with lettuce, the buffalo sweetbreads, a few pickled red onions, and some more blue cheese dressing to ooze all over everything. Close with the top of the rolls.
How do you make pigtails desirable in Toronto? Put them in a taco that’s made out of a scallion pancake, that’s how! The pigtail is a perfect ratio of meat, fat, and skin. Now, what if you took that tail, braised it, picked all those tiny bones out of it, pressed it, fried it, and served it on a fluffy made-to-order scallion pancake with a burnt red cabbage kimchi? You’ve got yourself a home run. I like the cabbage more than the tail, but together it’s an unstoppable force that sold well. This was on the menu for a few months, and we took it off the menu because we wanted to, not because we needed to. I love when that happens—choosing to take a beloved dish off the menu always feels great. It feels like you won a little league baseball tournament. It’s over, but it’s on your own terms.
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SERVES: 6
PREP TIME: 4 DAYS
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FOR THE PIGTAILS:
3 large pigtails
4 onions, peeled and halved
1 carrot, peeled and halved lengthwise
2 Roma tomatoes, halved
2 stalks celery, halved
FOR THE BURNT CABBAGE “KIMCHI”:
2 heads red cabbage, halved, cored, and leaves separated
½ cup (120 ml) ketchup
½ cup (120 ml) hoisin sauce
½ cup (120 ml) soy sauce
½ cup (120 ml) fish sauce
½ cup (120 ml) malt vinegar
1 cup (240 ml) sambal
1 cup (240 ml) yuzu juice
½ cup (120 ml) lime juice (about 6 limes)
1 cup (240 ml) canola oil
1 cup (240 ml) rice wine vinegar
5 cloves garlic, peeled
1 knob ginger, peeled
1 bunch cilantro, chopped
¼ cup (24 g) Korean chile powder
FOR THE SCALLION PANCAKES:
1 cup (125 g) all-purpose flour
2 eggs
2 cups (480 ml) whole milk
1 cup (240 ml) heavy cream
1 bunch green onions
1 tablespoon canola oil
Kosher salt
Cooking spray
FOR SERVING:
1 bunch radishes, sliced
Jalapeño chiles, sliced
1 bunch cilantro, chopped
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Make the pigtails: Place the pigtails in a pot with cold water; bring to a boil. Once it boils, drain and rinse the pigtails quickly under running hot water. Return the pigtails to the pot and add cold water; bring to a boil again. Skim any scum that rises, then add the onions, carrot, tomatoes, and celery; simmer 2½ hours. Turn off the heat and let steep 30 minutes.
Remove the pigtails and let cool until you can handle them. Then, using a sharp boning or paring knife, cut out the bones (it should be easy now that they are braised) and, with gloved hands, pick them out. Cut the tails into bite-size pieces and mix up so that there’s meat, fat, and skin all intertwined, and place in a parchment-lined loaf pan. Cut a piece of cardboard that can fit over top of the loaf pan to act as a lid and wrap in plastic, then press and refrigerate overnight.
Make the burnt cabbage “kimchi”: Preheat the broiler; place a baking sheet on the highest oven rack to get hot. Pull out the baking sheet and place one layer of cabbage leaves on it (do not add any oil or seasoning). Return to the oven and broil until the leaves are burnt. You don’t want to turn them to dust, but you do want them to actually burn. When the cabbage is burnt on one side, flip the leaves and burn the other side. Repeat with all the cabbage leaves, then place in a bowl.
In a large stainless-steel bowl, combine the ketchup, hoisin sauce, soy sauce, fish sauce, malt vinegar, sambal, yuzu, lime juice, oil, and rice wine vinegar; stir with a whisk. In a blender, blitz the garlic, ginger, cilantro, and Korean chile powder until it’s pulp, then add to the bowl. If the sauce is too thick, add some water. This is a really intense sauce so it should be loose, like a nice watery mega-punch flavor bomb to the face. Add the cabbage to the sauce and stir to coat; wrap the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate 24 hours.
Make the scallion pancakes: Place the flour, eggs, milk, cream, green onions, oil, and 1 teaspoon salt in a high-power blender and blend on high for 1½ minutes. The mixture will turn completely green. Pour into a pitcher, wrap with plastic wrap, and refrigerate until needed.
Coat a nonstick pan with cooking spray and set over medium heat, then using a 2-ounce (60 ml) ladle, pour 1 pancake in the pan. Wait until the sides bubble and you can lift the edge of the pancake, then flip. Continue to make the scallion pancakes until the batter is finished; you should have about 20 pancakes.
Put it all together: Slice the pigtails into ½-inch- (12 mm) thick portions. In a nonstick pan, place 2 portions of the pigtails and cook over medium-high heat until golden brown, 3 to 4 minutes. Flip with a spatula. (It will get pretty spitty with the skin and fat, so be careful.) Place the crispy fried pigtails on a paper towel–lined plate.
Prepare a plate of the pancakes, a plate of the fried pigtails, a bowl of the burnt cabbage, and bowls of sliced radishes, sliced jalapeños, and chopped cilantro.
Let your guests make their own crispy, fatty tacos wrapped in warm little fluffy pancakes.
There have always been a lot of chefs in the culinary world serving whole roasted cauliflower. I feel brining the cauliflower is very important to the integrity of the end product. If you season just the outside, nothing on the inside will have flavor. Brining vegetables is something as old as time, but very few people do it now. The celeriac broth is so easy to make and, once again, reaps big rewards on this dish. The deep, slow-roasted celeriac flavor steeped for a few hours is amazing on its own, but with fried cauliflower; bright salsa verde; creamy, acidic ricotta; and crunchy Jerusalem artichoke chips, it may be one of the best vegetarian dishes I’ve ever made.
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SERVES: 4
PREP TIME: 6 HOURS PLUS AN OVERNIGHT BRINE
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FOR THE CAULIFLOWER:
1 large cauliflower, quartered
10% brine (this page)
FOR THE CELERIAC BROTH:
4 celery roots
4 yellow onions (unpeeled)
Kosher salt
FOR THE ARTICHOKE CHIPS:
6 Jerusalem artichokes
1 tablespoon white vinegar
3 cups (720 ml) canola oil
Kosher salt
FOR THE SALSA VERDE:
1 cup (240 ml) olive oil
½ bunch parsley
½ bunch cilantro
½ bunch basil
½ bunch tarragon
½ bunch mint
1 jalapeño, chopped
1 shallot, peeled and chopped
1 clove garlic, peeled and chopped
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
FOR SERVING:
¼ cup (60 g) ricotta cheese
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Brine the cauliflower (see this page) for 24 hours. Let air-dry on a baking sheet 2 to 3 hours.
Make the celeriac broth: Preheat the oven to 300°F (150°C). Place the celery roots and onions on a baking sheet and roast in the oven 4 hours.
Place the caramelized celery roots and onions in a large pot and cover with water; bring to a boil and simmer 1 hour. Turn off the heat and let steep 30 minutes, then strain through a fine chinois into another pot. Season with salt to taste.
Make the cauliflower: Preheat the oven to 450°F (230°C). Roast the cauliflower 10 minutes, until the outside is soft but the core is slightly firm.
Make the artichoke chips: Using a mandoline, shave the Jerusalem artichokes into a bowl of 3 cups (720 ml) cold water and the vinegar. Place the Jerusalem artichokes into a paper towel–lined bowl.
In a large pot, pour the canola oil. When the temperature of the oil reaches 350°F (175°C), fry the Jerusalem artichokes until golden brown. (Stand back from the pot to avoid spitting oil.) Place in another paper towel–lined bowl and season with salt. Now, fry the whole cauliflower in the same pot until golden brown.
Make the salsa verde: In a bowl, combine all the ingredients and mix. Consistency should be mulchy.
To serve, pour 6 tablespoons (90 ml) broth in the bottom of each bowl. Place a piece of cauliflower in the middle of each bowl, spoon some ricotta on top, then spoon on some salsa verde. Top with a handful of the crispy Jerusalem artichoke chips.
We served a terrine board at Parts & Labour for three years. We offered half and full portions. Kungfu was the man behind our charcuterie program. It got out of control sometimes. Some weeks we would make so many different terrines, pâtés, and sausages that we would literally put like eight slices of whatever we were making on the board. Neglecting food cost at every corner. Kungfu called them his projects. Instead of doing regular prep for his station, he often would be working away on one of his projects—elbow-deep in sausage farce or stuffing a bladder for nduja.
I love that guy so much. I first met him at La Palette, where he was a young and eager culinary school kid learning to cook. We clicked immediately. We were both small-town boys who loved to party—like really party. We were inseparable for years. It was awesome. At P&L we were able to go wild with food, making whatever we wanted. It was the best—until it wasn’t. I’ll say this: If you have ever shared time with Kungfu at a show, a bar, or rolling around on a beach in some part of the world, you know that you are really living in the moment. He is truly one of a kind. I am lucky to call him a brother after all these years.
When he and I parted ways at Parts & Labour, it wasn’t the best time in our relationship. We were both drunk every day and slowly started resenting each other. We worked for a lot of years together. I was always his chef, but we were equal in his eyes. I agree with that now but definitely did not then. The egos of young chefs are pretty blinding and deafening at times. We were both good cooks; but that could not keep us together.
My friend Giuseppe and I were having an espresso at Parts & Labour one day. He was talking about how he needed a chef for a new diner he was opening and asked if I knew anyone for the job. Right at that moment Kungfu walked through the dining room. I laughed and asked, “Hey, Kungfu, you want to be a chef at a new diner?” He said, “Yup!” And that was it.
Kungfu and I parted ways. He opened an amazing diner called Wallace & Co. Kungfu absolutely killed it. The food was amazing and the setting was so perfect. He really makes some of my favorite food. I love his corned beef hash. After about a year, the restaurant suffered a bad fire and Kungfu was out of a job. So he finally got back to what he loved: making charcuterie—hot dogs, specifically, and that’s how his awesome business Kungfu Dawg was birthed.
I’m so proud of him and proud to be his friend. Charcuterie was his baby and I could not have opened Parts & Labour without him. Here’s a picture of our terrine board that I made for the photo shoot for the cookbook, but Kungfu wasn’t around (he was out of the country) to give me any of his recipes—so there are no recipes. A picture is worth a thousand pâté en croûtes.
His name is Stephen Edward Payne.
I had a dish in Montreal that blew my mind: a raw beef salad with pretty much everything that goes on a banh mi: pickled daikon, carrot, crushed peanuts . . . I straight up stole the flavors, added the smoked mussel aïoli, and changed the plating. This is what raw beef should taste like. And this shrimp toast is based on the best shrimp toast I’ve ever had, at Rang’s sister’s house in Phan Rang, a few hours south of Ho Chi Minh City in Vietnam. It was so simple and delicious. The best thing about shrimp cakes and toasts is that they are just as good hot as they are cold. That’s where the seasoning for the whole dish comes into play—the fish sauce, the rendered pork fat, the cilantro. I’m proud of this dish, and I’m proud that I’m taking influences from around the world. It’s important to make things your own and acknowledge the food that has inspired you.
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SERVES: 4
PREP TIME: 1 HOUR
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FOR THE VIETNAMESE STEAK TARTARE:
1 pound (455 g) beef tenderloin
1 carrot, peeled and diced
1 daikon, peeled and diced
½ cup (120 ml) white vinegar
½ cup (100 g) granulated sugar
Kosher salt
Zest and juice of 2 limes
¼ cup (60 ml) fish sauce
½ cup (120 ml) olive oil
1 cup (140 g) smoked mussels
1 cup (240 ml) mayonnaise
4 egg yolks
½ cup (70 g) crushed peanuts
1 bunch cilantro, stems thinly sliced
4 green onions (white parts only), thinly sliced
1 bunch Thai basil leaves, quartered
1 bunch mint, leaves halved, then quartered
3 tablespoons Korean chile powder, for garnish
6 bird’s eye chile peppers, thinly sliced, for garnish
2 jalapeños, sliced, for garnish
FOR THE SHRIMP TOAST:
3 bird’s eye chile peppers
4 cloves garlic, peeled
1 thumb-size (1-inch/2.5 cm) knob ginger, peeled
8 sprinkles fish sauce
3 ounces (85 g) lard
1 pound (455 g) peeled and deveined black tiger shrimp
6 thick slices white bread
1 cup (150 g) white sesame seeds, untoasted
Canola oil
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Make the Vietnamese steak tartare: Place the beef in the freezer 30 minutes so it’s easier to slice and dice. Slice the beef into ½-inch (12 mm) rounds, then dice. Place in a bowl, cover with plastic wrap, and push down so there’s no air in the bowl; refrigerate until needed.
Make a quick pickle: Place the carrot and daikon in a bowl. In a pot, pour 1 cup (240 ml) water, the vinegar, sugar, and 3 tablespoons salt; bring to a boil and pour over the daikon and carrot. Cover and refrigerate to cool.
In a bowl, place the lime zest and juice, the fish sauce, and oil; stir.
Drain the mussels and place in a food processor; add the mayonnaise and blitz until fully incorporated. Using a spatula, scoop the mixture into a squeeze bottle and place in the refrigerator until needed.
Remove the beef from the refrigerator and coat with the lime–fish sauce oil (make sure to stir before using). You don’t want to make the beef wet—you just want an even coating, 2 to 3 tablespoons. Add a pinch or two of salt.
Spoon a quarter of the beef onto a plate. Make an indent in the meat with your spoon. Place 1 egg yolk in the hole. Squeeze about 1 tablespoon of the smoked mussel mayo next to the egg. Use a slotted spoon to remove the pickled carrot and daikon from their liquid; drain on a paper towel, then spoon some around the beef. Add some crushed peanuts on top and sprinkle the meat with the cilantro stems, green onion whites, basil, and mint. Make sure to leave the yolk uncovered. Finally, dust the yolk with some of the chile powder, and garnish with chiles and jalapeños. Repeat for the other plates.
Make the shrimp toast: In a food processor, place the bird’s eye chile peppers, garlic, ginger, fish sauce, and lard and blitz until smooth. Add the shrimp and blitz some more until smooth. Add just a little ice-cold water if the mixture is too tacky.
Spread the shrimp paste evenly over the bread, ¼ inch (6 mm) thick, then cut and trim the bread into fingers.
Pour the sesame seeds on a plate. Dip the bread in the sesame seeds and make sure it is completely covered.
In a large nonstick pan set over medium-high heat, pour 3 tablespoons oil. Cook the shrimp toast until the seeds are toasted and the shrimp cooks through: Once you get the perfect golden sesame-seed crust, flip from side to side every 30 seconds, 3 or 4 times. Place on a paper towel–lined plate. In between each toast, wipe the pan clean with a paper towel and add fresh oil. You should be able to cook 2 to 3 toasts at once, but don’t crowd the pan.
Put the shrimp toast fingers on the side of your plate and dig into that tartare.
I love Nashville style hot chicken in the same way I love buffalo wings. It’s one of those dishes that can be served in any restaurant in some version or another. A lot of Canadians don’t understand that hot chicken is actually spicy. This is the dish I miss the most from Parts & Labour. I’d eat one thigh and one drum, Nashville style, with a scoop of mashed potatoes, some collard greens, cream corn, pickles, and Texas toast. This shit is fire.
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SERVES: 4
PREP TIME: 3 HOURS PLUS AN OVERNIGHT BRINE
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FOR THE CHICKEN:
2 (3 to 4-pound/1.4 to 1.8 kg) chickens
10% brine (this page)
Canola oil
Kosher salt
FOR THE FLOUR MIXTURE:
4 cups (500 g) all-purpose flour
¼ cup (25 g) onion powder
3 tablespoons garlic powder
¼ cup (25 g) cayenne
3 tablespoons paprika
2 tablespoons ground fennel seed
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
FOR THE HOT OIL:
2 cups (240 ml) canola oil
10 Scotch bonnet chile peppers
10 bird’s eye chile peppers
5 jalapeños
2 cups (4 sticks/455 g) unsalted butter
½ cup (50 g) cayenne
½ cup (50 g) smoked paprika
FOR THE FINISHING POWDER:
1 cup (100 g) cayenne
½ cup (50 g) smoked paprika
FOR SERVING:
Thick slices white bread
Bread and butter pickles
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With a good pair of kitchen scissors, cut out the spine of the chicken; discard. On a cutting board, use a large knife to cut off the legs, then slice in between the thigh and the drumstick, separating them. Flip the bird over so the breasts are on the cutting board and cut the bird in half, then cut each breast in half. Repeat with the second chicken. A whole chicken should give you 10 pieces: 4 breasts, 2 thighs, 2 drumsticks, and 2 wings. Place the 20 pieces of chicken in a pot; brine (see this page) for 24 hours.
Make the flour mixture: In a large bowl, place the flour, onion powder, garlic powder, cayenne, paprika, fennel seed, salt, and pepper; stir with a whisk.
Remove the chicken from the brine and pat dry with paper towels, then add to the flour mixture; refrigerate 2 hours.
In a large Dutch oven, pour the canola oil halfway up the pot. Place a candy thermometer in the oil and heat until the temperature reaches 325°F (165°C).
Separate the wings, breasts, thighs, and drumsticks. Before adding to the canola oil, dust the chicken one last time in the flour mixture to make sure there are no wet spots.
Add the wings to the canola oil; fry 9 minutes and place on a rack and season with salt. Let the oil temperature come back to 325°F (165°C).
Add the drumsticks to the oil; fry 10 minutes and place on a rack and season with salt. Let the oil temperature come back to 325°F (165°C).
Add the thighs to the oil; fry 13 minutes; place on a rack and season with salt. Let the oil temperature come back to 325°F (165°C).
Add the breasts to the oil; fry 16 minutes; place on a rack and season with salt.
Make the hot oil: In a pot over high heat, heat the canola oil and the Scotch bonnet, bird’s eye, and jalapeño peppers until a candy thermometer reaches 350°F (175°C); turn off the heat and let steep 30 minutes. Pour into a blender, filling only halfway to avoid overfilling, and blend. Pass through a fine chinois into a medium pot. Heat again, then add the butter, cayenne, and paprika; stir with a whisk.
Make the finishing powder: In a bowl, combine the cayenne and paprika.
Spoon the hot, spicy oil over the chicken on the resting rack. Sprinkle the finishing powder over the hot chicken. Serve with Texas toast and pickles.
This dish has four of my favorite things: pig’s feet, pancakes, pork belly, and maple syrup. It’s a dish that has been on the menu since day one, standing the test of time. Fergus Henderson invented this sauce. So thank you, Fergus!
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SERVES: 6
PREP TIME: 4 HOURS
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FOR THE PANCAKES:
1 cup (128 g) all-purpose flour
1½ tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1½ teaspoon baking powder
1½ teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted
2 eggs, separated
1 cup (240 ml) buttermilk
Cooking spray
FOR THE MAPLE TROTTER SAUCE:
4 pig’s feet
2 cups (480 ml) Madeira wine
1 onion, peeled and sliced
2 cloves garlic
6 sprigs thyme
1 tablespoon black peppercorns
1 bay leaf
2 cups (480 ml) veal stock
2 cups (480 ml) maple syrup
Kosher salt
FOR SERVING:
½-pound (225 g) slab bacon, cut into 4 pieces
4 eggs
Unsalted butter, for frying (optional)
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Make the pancakes: Sift the flour through a sieve into a large bowl. No one wants lumpy pancakes, so this will help prevent that. Sift the sugar, salt, baking powder, and baking soda into the bowl and stir all the ingredients together. Set aside.
Melt the butter over medium-low heat. Do not burn the butter. Set aside to cool in the pan. Crack the eggs and separate the yolks and the whites, save both. Whisk the egg whites until fluffy. Add the buttermilk to the egg whites.
In a separate bowl, stir the yolks until blended. Stir in the sugar, then add the cooled, melted butter to the egg yolk mixture. Whisk the yolk mixture into the egg white mixture until fully incorporated. Slowly whisk the flour mixture into the wet mixture so that no clumps form. Whisk to fluffy consistency and refrigerate 10 minutes.
Make the maple trotter sauce: Place the pig’s feet in a pot with 4½ cups (1 L) cold water. Bring to a boil. Discard water and rinse feet to get rid of all the scum. Now, once again, place feet in pot and add 4½ cups (1 L) cold water and bring to boil. Turn down to a simmer. Add Madeira, onion, garlic, thyme, peppercorns, and bay leaf. Simmer 3 hours or until meat is tender. Skim the scum. If no scum rises that’s great. You’ve just made stock.
Take feet out of the stock and place on a clean surface. Gently pick out all of the little pig feet bones. There are plenty, so be careful and thorough. Next, dice the pig feet meat and place in a pot with the wine, 2 cups (480 ml) veal stock, and 1 cup (240 ml) maple syrup, and simmer 30 minutes. Taste for salt.
Generously coat a large skillet over medium-high heat with cooking spray. Spoon a cookie-size portion of batter into the pan. Don’t press on them or fuck with them at all. Let them sit there and get tasty. When you see bubbles forming in the middle and a nice browning on the sides it’s time to flip them (only do this once).
In a small skillet, fry the slab bacon; drain on a paper towel. Fry 4 eggs sunny side up in the bacon fat, or you can wipe the pan and put in a small bit of butter.
Put a pancake or two in the middle of a plate, a piece of bacon on top, and then a beautiful sunny side up egg on top of that. Surround with a moat of maple trotter sauce. Share with loved ones.
I hate making desserts, so here’s the greatest giant doughnut recipe you’ve ever seen. At Parts & Labour I was stupid enough to call it a beaver tail, which I later found out was trademarked, so we got a cease-and-desist order stating that we were going to get sued if we continued to sell beaver tails. So, I was like, fuck that; this is just deep-fried dough, so let’s call it the Super Festival County Doughnut.
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MAKES: 1 BIG-DOG DOUGHNUT
PREP TIME: 1 HOUR
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FOR THE DOUGHNUT:
2 cups (480 ml) whole milk
1 cup (240 ml) warm water
3 tablespoons instant yeast
2 tablespoons plus 1 cup (200 g) granulated sugar
4 eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 cup (240 ml) canola oil, plus more for the bowl
2 teaspoons kosher salt
8½ cups (1 kg) all-purpose flour
FOR THE CINNAMON SUGAR:
1 cup (200 g) granulated sugar
¼ cup (24 g) ground cinnamon
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Make the doughnut: Combine the milk and water in a pot over mediumlow heat until a candy thermometer reaches above body temperature. Add the yeast and 2 tablespoons sugar and let sit in a warm place until foamy and fragrant.
In the bowl of a stand mixer with the whisk attached, mix the 4 eggs, 1 cup (200 g) sugar, and the vanilla extract on medium-high speed until fluffy and pale in color.
Reduce the speed to medium and slowly pour in the oil until the mixture is thoroughly combined.
Reduce the speed to low and slowly add the activated yeast mixture and the salt.
Turn off the mixer and replace the whisk attachment with the dough hook. Slowly add the flour at medium speed until the dough is completely combined and slightly tacky.
Place the dough in an oiled bowl and allow to proof in a warm area for at least 1 hour.
Fill a large Dutch oven halfway with oil and heat over medium heat until it reaches 325°F (165°C). Fry dough until golden brown. It will puff up like a pita. Flip it back and forth. Put it on a resting rack.
Make the cinnamon sugar: In a large bowl, combine the sugar and the cinnamon.
Cover your doughnut with the cinnamon sugar. Fill your boots.
I am known for cheeseburgers, and I hate it. We always had a cheeseburger on the menus at Parts & Labour and Oddfellows. Everyone loves cheeseburgers. But then I did a cheeseburger competition TV show in Toronto called Burger Wars. It was my first time on television, and I won. After it aired, Parts & Labour turned into a burger shop. People were driving from places like Cornwall and Niagara Falls, like four to seven hours, to try the “best burger in Toronto.” We used to change the burger every two months, but then we were stuck with the burger I made on the show. It’s still on the menu now, eight years later.
It’s so wild how something like that can change a whole restaurant. I didn’t go to cooking school and bust my ass at two of the best French restaurants in Canada to cook cheeseburgers. We literally had to change the kitchen to keep up. We raised the price of the burger, trying to deflect people into trying some other dishes. It really blew all our minds. I feel grateful for every person who walks into any of my restaurants—there are so many great choices out there. For someone to commit and say they want my food has always been a humbling feeling.
But let’s get back to hating this cheeseburger. We even opened a cheeseburger shop for a few years to try to divert business away from Parts & Labour. It failed because we did it for the wrong reasons. I didn’t care about cheeseburgers and neither did any of the partners. Opening a restaurant for any reason aside from the fact that you truly love it will result in failure. Life is very short and you only have a small window to do what’s right and make life great.
Even while I’m writing this, the burger brings up mixed emotions: It made so many people happy, but there was something that ate away at my soul every time it left the kitchen. Holy fucking shit, that’s a lot to take in. Make this burger as much as you want, but please don’t talk to me about cheeseburgers ever again.
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SERVES: 6
PREP TIME: 1 HOUR
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FOR THE BACON-ONION JAM:
1 pound (455 g) slab bacon, sliced into lardons
2 cups (4 sticks/455 g) unsalted butter
4 pounds (500 g) onions, sliced
1 cup (240 ml) red wine vinegar
¼ cup (50 g) sugar
FOR THE BURGER:
3 pounds (1.4 kg) fresh ground brisket
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 cup (145 g) diced kosher dill pickles
1 cup (240 ml) Hellmann’s mayonnaise
1 pound (455 g) Monterey Jack cheese, sliced
Unsalted butter
6 sesame-seed milk buns
Shredded iceberg lettuce
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Make the bacon-onion jam: In a large heavy-bottomed pot set over medium heat, render the bacon. Add the butter and onions. Cook over low heat, stirring occasionally, 1½ hours. Cooking the onions this slowly will let them caramelize naturally in their sugars.
Add the vinegar and sugar to the pot and cook 15 minutes, then remove from the heat. Let cool and place in container and store in the refrigerator. (When you make the P&L Burgers, you can warm some of this jam in a pan.)
Make the burger: Place cast-iron skillet over medium heat 5 minutes before cooking the patties.
Roll 6-ounce (170 g) burger balls from the brisket and pat them into flat, thick patties, about 1 inch (2.5 cm) thick. Season the patties with salt and pepper.
In a bowl, combine the pickles and mayonnaise; set aside.
Place three patties in the skillet (with no oil). The fat will render and you will have a juicier burger from the natural fat inside the patty. Cook 4 minutes on one side, then flip.
Top each patty with the jam and then put 2 slices of cheese per patty on top. Pour 2 tablespoons water into the skillet, covering it immediately so the burgers can steam. Remove the lid after 45 seconds. The cheese should be fully melted.
Butter the buns and place them facedown in another skillet over medium-high heat so they get nice and toasty.
Spoon the pickle mayo on the bottom buns, then add a good pile of the lettuce. Add the cheesy beef patties, cover with more of the pickle mayo, then add bun tops.
Just eat the fucking burger.
