European

Use the best, freshest eggs you can find, and don't even think of making this dish with eggs from stressed-out battery chickens. You can taste the difference. If you can find real guanciale, so much the better. Once the eggs have been added to the pasta, do not let the pan touch the heat directly or you will wind up with scrambled eggs.

This simple but delicious sauce is named for the town of Amatrice, in the mountainous northeastern panhandle of Lazio, near Abruzzo and the Marche. It seems incredible for such an easy, humble sauce, but this is one of the dishes self-appointed purists (read fanatics) will fight over to the death, or at least death by boredom. You have to use spaghetti or bucatini, they say—nor is it that simple, since there are spaghetti-only and bucatini-only factions. No cheese but pecorino is permitted. And woe betide you if you use pancetta in place of guanciale. There is, however, some room for individual expression. Some cooks use onion and chile, some not. A few swear by a splash of white wine "to cut the fat." The pecorino should ideally be that made in Amatrice or Abruzzo or Sicily, milder and fattier than pecorino romano, but pecorino romano is certainly what you'll find used in Rome. (Pecorino romano is a kind of cheese from a large designated area that includes the entire Lazio and Sardegna regions and the province of Grosseto in Tuscany, not just Rome; it is widely available in the United States.) Parmigiano is not used in amatriciana; it's made with cow's milk, and Rome and its mountainous hinterland is traditionally a land of sheep, after all. The shepherds of yesteryear, who spent months in the hills with their flocks, would make this flavorful dish for themselves. You can imagine that they were not worried about someone calling the food police if they grabbed a piece of pancetta instead of guanciale or one kind of sheep cheese instead of another. But they would never have used smoked bacon, which is not part of their tradition. Like many rustic, simple sauces that have found immortality on trattoria menus throughout Italy (and beyond), this dish is only as good as its ingredients. Take the tomatoes. The rugged mountainous area of northeastern Lazio where Amatrice is located was never great tomato-growing territory, or at least not for most of the year, so it was normal to use canned or jarred tomatoes. But the most delicious amatriciana I've ever tasted was made by Oretta (of course) at her house about halfway between Rome and Amatrice with tomatoes from her garden. After her ecstatic guests had practically licked their plates, she announced with an air of regret that this delicious dish was "not really l'amatriciana" because she had used fresh tomatoes. She later revised the statement to the more reasonable pronouncement that if you have a basketful of gorgeous San Marzano tomatoes from your garden, of course you should peel and seed them and make the sauce, and handed me a jar of her home-canned tomatoes to use in the winter. Whether you use fresh or canned, the result is a red sauce studded with bits of lightly fried pork, but you don't want it too red. The pasta and guanciale should be coated with a thin mantle of sauce, not hidden. Don't let the gloppy, oversauced trattoria version be your model. The cheese is sharp and salty, but, again, don't use too much. Many people consider onion a deviation from the sacred original, but hardly anyone thinks it doesn't taste good. In fact, it is delicious. If you use it, add a small chopped onion to the guanciale fat and sauté until transparent, then add the tomato.

Spinach and lowfat ricotta make it hearty—and good for you.

My mother grew up in Bad Nauheim, Germany, where she helped her parents with their inn and restaurant called Die Krone (The Crown). When I was growing up, she cooked several traditional German dishes, but one of the most memorable for me was her recipe for sweet-and-sour red cabbage. Though I was a pretty picky eater, I adored the cabbage and loved how it colored the mashed potatoes my mother would always serve with it. Mom never wrote the recipe down for me, but I reached out to German relatives and re-created it. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed taking the trip down memory lane. Grating the cabbage takes a while, so make sure to have some good tunes on!

Kabocha squash is made for purées.

Writer Peter Jon Lindberg's Swedish grandmother Alice Lindberg made these cookies each Christmas. The recipe makes about 9 dozen cookies, making it great for holiday parties and edible gifts.

This is one of those serendipitous, stumbled-upon creations. I had made a big pot of polenta, and I poured the leftovers into a baking dish in a thin layer. The next day, foraging in the fridge for lunch, I came upon the polenta, a little fresh mozzarella, a little Parmesan (or was it Pecorino?). To make a pizza of sorts, I layered on the cheeses, added a splash of oil, crumbled over a handful of dried sage leaves, and put it into a hot oven. The result was completely satisfying. So what if it's not truly a pizza?—though perhaps it has a culinary ancestor somewhere, since there's really nothing new under the sun.

A simple snack that takes advantage of the season's first garlic, which is harvested before the bulbs form. Delicious hot or cold.

The idea here is to concentrate a few strong complementary flavors to create a cake that is pleasantly bitter and not too sweet. Tartine chiffon cake is made with whole-grain dark buckwheat flour, and then layered with blood orange marmalade and bergamot-infused blackout chocolate ganache. The ganache sets quickly, so cut your cake layers and have your filling and syrup on hand when ready to assemble.

Cook the chickpea mixture until it resembles wet concrete; it won't set up if it's undercooked.

With slices of celery root and chefs' new favorite cheese, scamorza, pizza night just got a lot more fun.

To faithfully re-create this cocktail, do as Nostrana does and seek out blue plum brandy from Oregon's Clear Creek Distillery.

At first glance, this might look like a simple lamb stew, but you will be delighted by its finesse when you remove the lamb from the bone, return it to the pot, and toss with your favorite pasta. The secret to this deep and succulent sauce is the Basic Fond de Veau , a reduced veal stock whose unctuousness is well worth the extra preparation. The lamb can be made ahead, to concentrate the flavors. This ragout makes a surprisingly satisfying dish for entertaining.

Approach the clafoutis batter as if you're making waffles! It's no more complicated than that. This recipe resonates with me because it is so simple and versatile and, at the same time, elegant. Most often I make a clafoutis in a black cast iron skillet or heavy pie pan because they retain the heat well. You can certainly use individual ramekins, a tart mold, or even a crêpe pan. When you bake a clafoutis, it will puff up like a little soufflé, browned on the edges, but creamy within. I try to serve it immediately, because it will inevitably fall and deflate—but not to worry: This will happen and it's just as delicious anyway. If you understand this basic batter, the sky's the limit: it's a perfect blank canvas for almost any fruit you can think of: from choppable fruits like mango and banana, to cherries preserved in brandy. It's a recipe to draw upon all the year long. Variations follow, but here's the basic batter.

Trout cooked this way is called müllerin, "the miller's wife's" fish, because it's made from filets of mountain trout fished from the stream that powers the flour mill. It is precisely the same preparation and derivation as the French meunière. Don't be fooled by its apparent simplicity: layers of flavor are built by each ingredient in its turn—it is elegant in its simplicity. The trout filets are lightly coated with flour, browned in a pan with good butter, and by the time the fish is cooked, the butter has turned nutty brown and the fish is crisp and tender. Just before serving, a squeeze of lemon and freshly chopped parsley turn the butter in the pan into bubbly foam which is then spooned over each filet.

This sauce is the cook's best friend and the building block of many great French dishes. The powdered stuff sold in stores is not even in the same ballpark. This fond, or foundation sauce, takes my Basic Veal Stock then flavors and reduces it to intensify its power. Fond de Veau does require a bit of preparation and is probably the most expensive sauce I use, but it is so worth it for the potent, authentic flavor it confers to something like sautéed porcini mushrooms or as literally the secret sauce in the Ragout of Lamb Shoulder with Cavatelli.

There is so much folate in this pesto, you'll make a pound of serotonin before bedtime, which means a night of great sleep and a smile in the morning. Both kale and walnuts feed your lover's brain with the omega-3 ALA , which is converted into molecules that protect your brain cells and are linked to a lower risk of depression. The pesto is equally delicious on pasta or brushed on grilled chicken.

This is one of the simplest and yet tastiest preparations of eggs I've ever had. One afternoon, a friend and I unexpectedly dropped in on my friend Mario in Trieste. It was lunchtime, and he had a big basket full of fresh eggs he had brought down from the Carso, the high plateau surrounding Trieste. Eggs it was for lunch, served with a bowl of radicchio salad. We were just a few people that day, but this recipe is so very easy to modify for smaller or larger groups.