A Cookbook That Bridges a Big Divide
This article is from the archive of The New York Sun before the launch of its new website in 2022. The Sun has neither altered nor updated such articles but will seek to correct any errors, mis-categorizations or other problems introduced during transfer.

In art and in life, there have been plenty of famous rivalries. Montague versus Capulet. Microsoft versus Apple. The Jets versus the Sharks. It’s not really different in the world of cookbooks, but here, the West Side Story is the perennial battle between simple home cooking and complicated restaurantstyle recipes.
In “Geoffrey Zakarian’s Town/ Country” (Clarkson Potter, $37.50), chef Geoffrey Zakarian waves the olive branch. He aims to cover all the bases, offering a fancy “town” recipe and a homestyle “country” dish for each of his 65 favorite ingredients.
The dual approach seems inevitable for Mr. Zakarian. He owns a pair of Midtown restaurants, Town and Country, and explains in the book that their philosophies are opposites, too: “I think of Town as a special-occasion or restaurant style of dining, whereas Country is akin to what you’ll experience in a neighborhood cafe or bistro.” He confesses in his introduction to having “a propensity to tackle most of life’s important questions (including cooking) by sorting everything into pairs.”
Though Mr. Zakarian loves the neat symmetry of his Town/Country concept, in execution the lines between the two become blurred. Country restaurant is actually almost as fancy as Town, with $85 prix-fixe menus and truffles and sea urchins on the menu. Likewise, the recipes labeled “country” in the cookbook are often as complex as those described as “town.” The eggplant bisque, for example, boasts 20 ingredients, while the char-grilled broccoli with pear-curry vinaigrette involves blanching, grilling, sauteeing, and emulsifying – a lot of work for a side dish. And sometimes the “town” recipes are simpler than the “country” ones.
But those who admire Mr. Zakarian’s style won’t mind the occasional conceptual wobble. Whether he calls his dishes (or his restaurants) “town” or “country,” his sophisticatedly casual, modern French has been pleasing a certain breed of refined New York eater for decades at restaurants like Le Cirque and “21.” Rather than being groundbreaking, Mr. Zakarian’s food gets its edge from meticulous technique and simple twists, like the romaine lettuce marmalade that’s paired with a seared rib-eye steak, or the lemongrass that adds nuance to his cherry granita.
And some recipes certainly are weeknight-doable. Roast chicken with herb salad boasts a quick but flavorful stuffing of mascarpone, fresh herbs, and lemon zest under the skin. Peppered chestnut stew is a truly innovative idea that tastes terrific with a simply grilled steak. And flourless raspberry souffle, a beloved favorite from Mr. Zakarian’s years at Le Cirque, is impressive and almost comically easy.
It’s also a pleasure to see how a single ingredient can be taken in two different directions. A curious cook will get a gratifying sense of possibility from comparing the lemon and yogurt trifle with the caramelized lemon tart. But though Mr. Zakarian argues to the contrary, organizing the recipes by ingredient doesn’t necessarily make the question “What do I want to cook for dinner tonight?” any easier to answer. Since there are only two recipes for each of the ingredients, there’s not much room to maneuver if you, say, like apples but don’t want to make shinshu apple puree or apple cider soup. A second table of contents that lists recipes by course would have made meal planning easier.
But there are plenty of pleasures in “Town/Country,” if you forget about courses, designations, and categories and think for yourself. Find your own way – just like Tony and Maria did.