This is Amused Bouche, SAVEUR’s food questionnaire that explores the culinary curiosities of some of our favorite people. This interview series dives deep into their food routines, including dinner party strategies, cherished cookbooks, and the memorable bites they’d hop on a flight for.

That over-the-top love language applies to both friends and romantic partners, with the two heaviest hitters in his repertoire being beef bourguignon (“because it has to simmer all day”) and homemade pizza, which is “a couple-day process with a wow factor if you haven’t had it before” that has turned his friend group into budding pizzaiolos with their own pizza ovens so they can pay it forward. “I’m very intentional about who I am eating with, what they like, and what I want to show them. It’s really about going the extra mile.”

To bring his latest book to life, he created Eric Wareheim’s Steak House pop-up at three Thompson Hotels in Dallas, Denver, and Savannah, Georgia. He had the chef at each restaurant “pick their favorites from the book…some took the base recipes and made them their own with little tweaks.” By inviting the chefs to play around, Wareheim ensured each collaboration was singular, specific, and truly one-night only. “The whole point of a steakhouse is comfort. Dimly lit, leather booths, everyone is in tuxedos, and it’s comfortable, cool, classy, and celebratory,” he explains. “I wanted to bring that energy and vibe everywhere, along with really great food.”

When Wareheim and I chatted at his Savannah dinner, I asked him how he would transform a home kitchen into a steakhouse for a date night at home. “Everyone should know how to cook a piece of meat properly—that’s a very loving thing to give your date,” he says. “But time management is most important. Get all your prep done, even do your mise en place the day before. As I get older, I need all the energy I can get; I don’t need to be drinking Red Bull before dinner!”

Ultimately, the assembly and cooking part should be a piece of cake (specifically cheesecake, which Wareheim will buy from the store and zhuzh up with Kinder chocolates, fresh berries, or jarred sour cherries). “If you get a great piece of meat, you don’t have to do anything; just salt and pepper and cook it right,” he says. “A wedge salad is classic. Have one side dish like glazed carrots and a bottle of decanted wine that is special, and it will complement it all. And maybe a heart-shaped, hand-written menu and nice candles that won’t drip all over the place. I’m a romantic like that.” Read on for Wareheim’s answers to our Amused Bouche questionnaire.

If you could only eat one thing 24/7/365, what would it be?

Chicken schnitzel, big lemon wedge, new potatoes, and, for health reasons, broccolini. You know when your body is craving greens? I need something to cut through. My mom is German, and even though schnitzel is Austrian, it’s her schnitzel I’m thinking of. I put it in my first cookbook, Foodheim. Or fried chicken in general. My death meal is a piece of fried chicken from Babe’s Chicken Dinner House in Dallas and a piece of chutoro from Sawada in Tokyo.

What’s the first thing you learned how to cook?

My mom’s a really good cook, but she would try to be American, which is so funny. She created this taco salad when I went to college that was literally Doritos, French dressing, and olives. I couldn’t believe my mom put this together. It was so not her, but it was so yummy. And I was a vegetarian, so we used that faux crumbled meat. I would take it to college and eat it for days—even cold! I remember asking for the recipe and she was like, “Honey, there’s no recipe!” When you first start cooking, you say, “No, I need to know how many olives they put in here!” and then you realize you can just toss a bunch in and it’ll work out. My mom and I don’t bond on certain artistic things that I wish we could, but we really bond on good food.

How about your latest kitchen adventure?

Lately I’ve been loving Greek sour cherries and finding ways to use them more. Yogurt with sour cherries, a little flaky salt, and olive oil is my go-to.

What’s your treat-yourself splurge?

FatBoy ice cream sandwiches. FatBoys are like a regular ice cream sandwich but square. Then I found FatBoy Juniors. I was trying to be healthy by eating the smaller ones, but then I would end up eating two. When I’m really naughty, I go for the new FatBoy Junior cake pops. They are so silly, really dense, and just good.

What’s your most cherished cookbook?

The El Bulli cookbook I look to for visual inspiration as a plant artist. J. Kenji López-Alt’s The Food Lab is probably my most-used for techniques: I take the ends off garlic and smash to remove the skins; use the hard-boiled egg method for perfect 9-minute eggs; make the beef stew with anchovies, worcestershire, and tomato paste; and follow the technique for how to finish a pan sauce. It’s all these simple little tricks I implement in many different recipes now.

Is there a cooking disaster that made you swear off a dish forever?

I was making tacos a lot and decided to try using a tortilla press for the first time when I had a bunch of friends coming over. I should have practiced! The masa was too wet. It was a whole thing. So after that, I was like, I’m just buying homemade. I live in L.A.,  so it’s easy to find great ones—but I won’t swear off it forever. You gotta have the confidence to just go for it and fail. A big part of cooking is like, “I’m just going to f***ing try it!” 

Which nostalgic foods from childhood bring you the most comfort?

My mom wouldn’t keep much processed food in the house, but she would allow Nutella, Triscuits, and Cinnamon Toast Crunch sometimes. I do the naughtiest thing when I’m grumpy in the morning and eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch with half-and-half like a dessert. And I’m like: “I deserve this!” I also would take shots of A1 as a kid. I just loved sauce. My mom would say, “What are you doing?” and I would be like, “I don’t know, it’s just a big explosion right now!”

When you’re playing dinner party DJ, what’s spinning?

I have so many playlists. Many for dinner parties, some for when people arrive, fun ones for pizza. When I’m cooking bolognese, I listen to Italian disco. When I’m cooking red sauce, like nonna sauce, it’s more Italian American, like The Sopranos soundtrack remixes and Frank Sinatra.

What is your biggest entertaining flex to impress guests?

People will ask why I polish four kinds of glasses for parties, but I want the amaro to be served in a special glass from Modena, Italy, and to bring the bottle out on a cool vintage tray. It’s the little things and extra steps that make every element an experience. And I warm my bread up for a cheese platter—makes a huge difference!

Tell me about a meal so good you would hop on a flight to relive it.

Sawada in Tokyo. We literally had a group cry after the first time I ate there. It’s run by a husband-and-wife team, and they have embers slowly burning the entire time. And of course their ventilation is perfect, so you don’t even smell it. One of the last pieces is chutoro, and she comes over with this amazing old grate with coals and sears the fish in front of you. It’s not warm, but it has a little kiss of caramelization. It’s so f***ing nuts. It’s so cool! And after an incredible meal with only six people, they give you a hand-painted napkin to take home. We got on the street and everyone was tearing up. We couldn’t believe how special it was.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

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