Forks in the Road

Destination: Prince Edward Island

By Megan Powell

I lived in P.E.I. for two years while attending The Culinary Institute of Canada in Charlottetown. My partner (now husband) and I would always stop for a Cow’s ice-cream cone on our exploration trips. Their Chip-Chip Hurray flavour—sea-salted ice cream, chocolate-covered potato chips and toffee swirl—was my absolute favourite. While they sadly no longer offer it, they still sell their milk chocolate–covered ripple potato chips both in the shops and online. My time in P.E.I. spawned a love affair with this salty-sweet snack, a genius idea that I now replicate at home. I prefer semi-sweet chocolate to coat my chips and I finish them with a pinch of flaky salt for a savoury edge. I encourage you to experiment, using different chocolates and toppings.

Destination: Florida

Chicken-Fried Steak with Peppered Milk Gravy

By Michael Elliot

Growing up, my parents would drag me and my brothers almost yearly down to Florida, piling everyone into the station wagon and hitting the I-95 for three days. (Why they did this to themselves, I’ll never know.) While our backseat fidgeting and fighting eventually gave way to boredom, the food was always a bright spot, especially once we got down to the American South. The people became warmer, the portions got even bigger, and everything was washed down with bottomless glasses of sweet tea, or at least until Mum cut us off. We each had our favourite dish, and mine was chicken-fried steak, which is to say steak that’s been prepared like fried chicken, preferably with mac ’n’ cheese and some collards on the side. While your average diner is probably using cheap minute steaks, I like to up the ante and spring for a nice piece of sirloin. Adding a good proportion of starch to the flour ensures a light, crisp coating, and I (sheepishly) jazz up the usual milk gravy with slow-cooked onion and a bay leaf. It may be a bit of a detour toward a French-style sauce, but it does wonders without relying on powdered stocks for flavour.

Smashed Citrus & Strawberry Lemonade

By Kris Osborne

I will never forget the lemonade from the Texas Farmers’ Market at Mueller in Austin as long as I live. CTRUS, a small stand with an impossibly long line, was serving up what can only be described as liquid gold. Despite the scorching heat, visitors waited patiently for their turn to hold a 1-litre plastic service container filled to the brim with ice, fresh fruit and the most heavenly lemonade I’ve ever tasted. It was perfectly balanced, incredibly refreshing and layered with fresh fruit notes in varying combinations of lemon, lime, orange and strawberry. It was so extraordinary that we made a trip back to the market on our last day for one more taste. I used a combination of fresh lemon, lime and strawberry syrups to mimic CTRUS’s lemonade’s complex flavour profile. I also opted for cold-extracted syrup to preserve the freshness of the fruit and put it front and centre. The untraditional lime syrup dials up the lemon, resulting in a deeply refreshing, sweet-tart and full-bodied lemonade. It’s also excellent mixed in a highball with gin or blanco tequila.

Destination: Boston

Connecticut-Style Warm Lobster Roll

By Eric Vellend

My family lived in Boston for three years in the 1970s, so I have a strong attachment to the city. I’ve been back many times, and a must-stop is Neptune Oyster, my favourite oyster bar on the planet. It’s a tiny, riotously fun spot, and while they don’t take reservations, it’s worth any wait. I prefer to sit at the bar, and after freshly shucked bivalves, I’ll dig into their warm, buttered lobster roll. If you’re used to cold, mayo-based Maine rolls, this warm Connecticut style is a revelation—fat chunks of lobster are gently heated in butter and piled onto a toasted brioche bun. Its simplicity highlights the crustacean’s sweet, briny flavour. Since I’ve never seen this style on a Toronto menu, I’ve taught myself how to replicate it at home“When I first attempted a Connecticut-style lobster roll, I went the easy and less expensive route by heating up thawed frozen knuckle meat in butter. Nope. After doing some research, I realized for such a simple sandwich, you need to start with a live lobster. I parboiled it, shelled it and diced the partially cooked meat, then finished cooking it in butter. Finally, sautéing the lobster’s legs in the butter first put my version in the same league as Neptune’s.