European

Morales insists it's not a Russian party without this retro seafood salad on the table.

Purists will tell you this just gets better with time, so prepare it in advance of your party.

Rich, sweet, moist and yet completely free from flour and refined sugar, this Italian lemon and almond cake is a great way to end a meal. It is technically a cheesecake, but has very little in common with the heavy American versions. In Italy, most delis have their own version of ricotta. The most delicious one is made from sheep's milk–try it in this recipe, if you can find it. We often prepare the cake a day in advance. It makes it even creamier and enhances the flavors.

These pretty cookies look as though they are fussy to make, but they are actually slice-and-bake cookies, with holes cut from half of them about halfway through the baking. Buckwheat pairs well with any dark berry or cherry flavor, so feel free to try different preserves. The cookies keep well, but they should be assembled only shortly before serving. Leftover filled cookies will soften a bit, but they will still taste great.

This not-too-sweet loaf would also make amazing French toast.

This vibrant soup is especially delicious alongside baguette toasts topped with melted cheese.

These sausage-studded cheese puffs are a Cajun take on a classic French appetizer.

Baking a batch of these classic Austrian sandwich cookies is a project—but totally worth it.

This beautiful pastis — a sweet phyllo-wrapped pie that evolved in southwest France from the savory meat-filled _b'stilla_s of Morocco — makes an impressive holiday dessert.

Almonds were brought to Spain by the Moors, and they've featured in Andalusian cuisine ever since. Typically they are used as a thickener for sauces and, most famously, as the base of ajo blanco. Whole Marcona almonds are roasted with sweet or hot smoked paprika–I prefer to use sweet paprika, introduce a little heat via cayenne, and round it out with cumin and salt. In the event of a crippling Marcona almond shortage, regular blanched almonds will do the trick.

This is what I'd call the quintessential American pizza dough, inspired by New York-style pizza: medium thin, satisfyingly chewy, and the ideal companion to mozzarella, tomato sauce, and the pizza toppings Americans love best, from pepperoni and sausage to olives, mushrooms, and other vegetables. It's the dough I teach first to new students, and the one I recommend experimenting with because it's so versatile and user-friendly.

Here are the two starters I use most frequently in this book and in my restaurants. Tiga is my slightly more hydrated version of a classic biga starter, which is usually between 50 and 60 percent water. This "Tony's biga," which I call "Tiga," has 70 percent hydration. My poolish follows the traditional proportions of equal parts water and flour, so its hydration is much higher at 100 percent. In general, unless I specify otherwise, use the same flour in your starter that you will be using in your dough. I always make starters with cold water to slow down the fermentation process for greater flavor complexity. It's helpful to use a clear glass bowl so you can see how well your starter is fermenting.

When my wife, Julie, and I got married, we knew there was only one place to go for our honeymoon: Italy. I was excited to take her to Gombitelli, the tiny town in the mountains near Lucca where my dad's side of the family came from. My great-grandparents, Angelo and Olimpia Gemignani, had left Gombitelli for America at the turn of the last century, and my Grandpa Frank was born right after they got off the boat. We meandered through the Tuscan countryside, following increasingly sketchy gravel roads and finally ending up on a narrow donkey trail that wound up the side of a steep mountain. I remembered this road from a visit I'd made seven years earlier. Since then, it seemed to have eroded and gotten even narrower. It was barely wide enough for a car, with a sheer drop along one side and, naturally, no guardrail. We came to a dead end, the front of the car facing a deep ravine, and an old man came out of his house, waving violently and screaming at us in Italian. I rolled down the window and said "Gemignani?" His expression changed from rage to joy as he motioned to follow him and raced off, back down the road, yelling "Gemignani! Gemignani!" I made the most terrifying U-turn of my life and followed him. The minute I saw the little house and farm, I had the same overwhelming feeling I'd had the first time I'd been there. It was like stepping into my grandpa's farm in California. Although he'd never even been to Italy, he had the blood of a Tuscan contadino—and there in front of me was his backyard in every detail: the same flowers, the lemon tree, the dogwood, the fava beans, the big wine jugs wrapped in straw, the rusty tools scattered around. That California farm and my grandpa are long gone, but in that moment, I was home again. My cousins had decided there was one thing they absolutely had to serve us for our welcome meal: pizza, of course. And this is the one they made. It was quite thin, almost like a toasted flatbread, and I've replicated that in this recipe by rolling the dough out and docking it, so you get a light, crisp crust that's just right with the gutsy puttanesca-style combination of crushed tomatoes, olives, garlic, and anchovies.

Mmm. Fried dough. On a trip to Rimini, a resort town on Italy's Adriatic coast, I had a memorable fried pizza topped with cheese and ham. To re-create it, I came up with this shallow-fry method in which you fry the dough, then flip it, top it with mozzarella, and cover it with a lid to melt the cheese. In honor of Rimini, I've topped this one with the region's famous squacquerone cheese, which is as deliciously soft and runny as it is difficult to pronounce. If you can't find it, you can use crescenza (also known as stracchino). It goes on after frying and quickly melts on the hot crust. I also add thin slices of the cooked ham sold in Italian delis as prosciutto cotto. Not to be confused with prosciutto, which is cured but not cooked, this is what we know as ham, but it's a bit paler, less smoky, and more delicate than typical American deli ham. For this method, it's really helpful to roll your dough out as close to the stove top as possible and to have everything set up before you start cooking: your skillet on the stove top, a lid within easy reach, your cheeses and toppings measured out, and a plate lined with paper towels right next to the stove. Keep a close eye on the heat as you fry and adjust it as needed so the dough cooks all the way through without burning on the outside.

Too-cold doughs can crack and split when rolled; let this sit at room temperature for five minutes first.

A Spanish twist on brussels and bacon done in the style of a stir-fry. Wait till the last minute to pull this dish together, but have everything prepped and ready to go ahead of time.

If I had to choose my all-time favourite family recipe, it would be this.

These small turnips are perfect with duck or roast chicken.

Roasting white chocolate was a popular technique a few years back in a lot of pastry kitchens. I don't use white chocolate a lot because it is so sweet, but roasting it first caramelizes the sugar and toasts the milk solids to give it a nutty flavor, like brown butter, that balances its high sugar content.