European

Named for a region in Normandy known for its apples (and Calvados), this traditional recipe combines both in a rich, creamy sauce. Afraid to flambé? Buy a long-reach lighter at a hardware store.

In this indulgent cake, apples are caramelized before being baked in buttery batter. Why stop there? Salted caramel sauce lets guests indulge even further.

Without the hassle of breading and frying, eggplant Parmesan goes from special-occasion project to easy weeknight dinner.

Don't rush the browning of the onions—it's essential to the finished soup's flavor.

A light yet flavorful "stew" of tender leeks that comes together practically à la minute.

These delicate cheese puffs always impress. Once you get the hang of the dough, you'll serve them at every opportunity.

The best part of making duck confit? All the rich fat you're left with. Use it to roast potatoes—it's an easy way to upgrade a classic. What ever you do, don't throw it away (it freezes great).

Strisce means strips—any long pasta will work—and Chiantigiana refers to the Tuscan wine used to flavor the sauce.

Mom's Russian "Hamburgers" Kotleti for lunch, kotleti for dinner, kotleti of beef, of pork, of fish, of chicken—even kotleti of minced carrots or beets. The entire USSR pretty much lived on these cheap, delicious fried patties, and when comrades didn't make them from scratch, they bought them at stores. Back in Moscow, Mom and I harbored a secret passion for the proletarian, six-kopek variety produced by the meat-processing plant named after Stalin's food supply commissar, Anastas Mikoyan. Inspired by his 1936 trip to America, Mikoyan wanted to copy Yankee burgers in Russia, but somehow the bun got lost in the shuffle and the country got hooked on mass-produced kotleti instead. Deliciously greasy, petite, and with a heavy industrial breading that fried up to a wicked crunch, Mikoyan factory patties could be scarfed down by the dozen. Wild with nostalgia, Mom and I tried a million times to recreate them at home, but no luck: some manufactured treats just can't be duplicated. So we always reverted back to Mom's (far more noble) homemade version. Every ex-Soviet cook has a special trick for making juicy, savory patties. Some add crushed ice, others tuck in pats of butter or mix in a whipped egg white. My mother likes her kotleti Odessa-style (garlicky!), and adds mayo as binding instead of the usual egg, with delightful results. The same formula works with ground turkey or chicken or fish. Buckwheat kasha makes a nostalgic Russian accompaniment. Ditto thin potato batons slowly pan-fried with onions in lots of butter or oil. I love cold kotleti for lunch the next day, with some dense dark bread, hot mustard, and a good crunchy dill pickle.

Baked eggs are great for brunch, and this version is no exception. But with a salad of leafy greens, it's also hearty and satisfying enough to double as dinner.

June 24 is the Nativity of Saint John the Baptist, the traditional day to harvest green walnuts for making nocino, a delicious liqueur invented at a congress of witches, according to Anna Tasca Lanza, the doyenne of Sicilian cooking. Lanza's witches were Italian, but other countries from Croatia to France to the chilly Teutonic regions equally claim greenwalnut liqueur as their own. I learned to make it at the Institute of Domestic Technology, a cooking school in Altadena, California, where I also teach. When you harvest the nuts—working barefoot, according to some folklore—they are smaller than eggs, smooth to the touch, and crisp like apples, because the shells have not yet hardened. The nutmeats, at this stage, are jelly. Like most liqueurs, nocino is easy but requires patience. You slice the nuts and cover them with strong booze, sugar, and spice, and allow the mixture to infuse for forty days, until it is nearly black. The real test of patience begins after you bottle it. Ten-year-old nocino is said to be the best, and certainly you would never drink this summer's batch before cold weather sets in this fall. Mature nocino has a complex flavor of nutmeg, allspice, coffee, and caramel. Drink it neat as a digestif, or use it to flavor desserts. A few tablespoons of nocino lightly whisked into a cup of heavy cream will cause it to seize, as if magically transformed into cooked custard. The thickened cream is called "posset," and can be used as a sauce alongside cakes or other desserts. My nocino recipe is based on those from the Institute of Domestic Technology and Lanza's Sicilian cookbook The Garden of Endangered Fruit. Its fundamentals are green walnuts, 80-proof grain spirits, and sugar. (My secret ingredient is coffee beans.) You can change the aromatics if you like, but use small quantities, because the spices can take over. Green walnuts are sometimes available at farmers' markets, or can be ordered online at www.localharvest.org.

When I started working at Payard Pâtisserie in New York City, I had already been a pastry chef in Boston for a few years. I couldn't wait to see what this French guy could teach me. On my first day, I was handed a stack of recipes—all in French—and immediately realized it would be a challenging year. I spoke and read basic French, but I was pretty hazy on much of the baking vocabulary, and there were many words I'd never even seen before. Pithivier was one of them. I didn't even know how to pronounce it. (It's pee-tee-vee-YAY .) "Watch and learn," Chef Payard told me. He sandwiched a mound of rum-scented almond cream between two large squares of homemade puff pastry and then quickly scalloped the edges of the pastry to look like a sunflower. Slash-slash-slash went his paring knife over the top pastry as he etched sun rays into the surface. The whole thing went into the oven and emerged golden brown with a glorious starburst pattern on top. It put every other pastry I had ever made previously to shame. At Flour, we give our own spin to the pithivier by omitting the rum and adding a thick layer of caramelized apple butter atop the almond cream. It's a spectacular dessert.

The deconstructed caprese is a sandwich on a skewer, featuring crusty bread, mozzarella cheese, tomatoes, and basil. While it looks sort of fussy, it’s actually a snap to pull together and it has a colorful presentation that looks quite smashing in a lunch box. Small mozzarella balls, also known as bocconcini, measure about an inch across and are sold in the specialty cheese section of many supermarkets. Pack the skewers with a little side of olive oil and balsamic vinegar for lunchtime dipping. For bigger appetites, increase the recipe by 50 percent, which will make three skewers instead of two.

There are two hits of chile in this dish. It's used early on to infuse the oil, where it mellows. The sprinkle added at the end is more "precocious," says Krajeck. "It's not in every bite, but when it hits you, it makes a big impact."

If paella escaped from Spain, sailed to China, and did some soul-searching along the way, you'd have arroz gordo, the namesake dish at Chicago's Fat Rice. The generous pot of aromatic rice, curry-scented chicken, and (much) more can be traced back to Macau, the former Portuguese colony in China, where it's almost always served at home. Chefs Conlon and Lo took inspiration from foreign-language cookbooks; their version is a blend of Portuguese and Chinese cooking that Conlon calls "the original fusion."

Blanched garlic, which is sweet and mild, is blended with briny clam liquor and olive oil to make a creamy white sauce for this unconventional pizza.

Brussels sprouts, pancetta, and pasta were made for each other. The key is to get a good char on the Brussels sprouts, which helps balance the richness of the porky, eggy sauce.