Sauce

This versatile oil is a great way to bring heat to just about any dish.

One whiff of this hearty, fragrant sauce bubbling on your stove and you'll think you've just parachuted into the Apennines right in front of a trattoria, in sheep country. The mountains of central Italy—notably in the Abruzzo and Molise regions—have always been populated by shepherds. Consequently, lamb is the basic meat, and the cheeses are made from sheep's milk. Shoulder would be our cut of choice, but really any lamb stew meat will do. Even though the recipe calls for boneless meat, if you have some lamb on the bone, throw it in. The bones will add flavor and will be easy to remove once the sauce is cooked. Lamb is fatty, so the sauce will benefit from overnight chilling and subsequent degreasing. But if you can't bear to throw away that yummy lamb fat, roast some potatoes Italian style—cut up in small pieces with lots of rosemary—and use the lamb fat instead of olive oil.

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.

This simple sauce goes well with spring rolls as a dipping sauce. Also, it makes a good marinade for seafood. I once served grilled trout marinated in this sauce to a friend who disliked fish—it completely changed his mind!

An easy fancy meal with a bonus: Mushrooms and tomato may fight cancer.

The plummy-berry notes of red wine are highlighted when mixed with chocolate and butter into a glaze that drips over the edges of this decadent dark chocolate cake.

This smoky, fiery concoction is inspired by Bar Amá's "Bus Driver" salsa.

Most braises start by browning the meat. Not this one. The cooked meat is sliced, floured, and seared at the end, which lends a pro touch to this dish.

If the vibrancy of this dressing fades, perk it back up with more lime juice.

If you leave this on the thicker side, it's a great crudités dip. Or, thin it and pour onto salad.

A steak sauce good enough to rival the most popular brand makes this steak (or any, really) even more delicious.

Breakfast is just the beginning. Use this in stir-fries, to marinate tofu, or to glaze chicken as it roasts.

Editor's note: Use this recipe to make Chef David Chang's Bo Ssäm. Ssämjang—a spicy fermented bean paste sold in Korean markets—is a traditional accompaniment to grilled meats. Ssämjang is like the love child of two Korean sauces: a mix of denjang (Korea's funkier answer to Japanese miso) and kochujang, a spicy chile paste. Anyway, rather than just thinning out the ssämjang with oil or water as is most commonly done, we've allied ssämjang with extra kochujang and added vinegar in the mix to bring up the acidity of the sauce.

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.

Can't find Meyer lemons? Mimic their flavor by mixing half lemon zest and juice, and half orange zest and juice.

You know how guests always ask what they can do to help in the kitchen? Give them this recipe.

The BA Test Kitchen likes Grade B maple syrup for its deep and rounded flavor.