Gluten Free

Soaking the onion mellows its sharpness. If you can't find fresh horseradish, add 2 tablespoons prepared horseradish to the crème fraîche mixture.

Cutting the vegetables into similarly sized pieces helps them cook at the same rate, so this entire dish—sauce included—can be made in one pan.

This stew calls for water instead of stock to be added. The pork shoulder will create a rich cooking liquid on its own.

A mix of fragrant spices, garlic, and fresh ginger turn this stewed chicken into the most perfectly warming dinner for an October Sunday.

Cooking the potatoes on a wire rack lets hot air circulate around them, so they get extra crisp.

Make this salad without plating anxiety: Treat the daikon rounds like a deck of cards and let them fall where they may.

A virtuous, herby grain salad with a heart of indulgent butterfat. We love the white-on-white effect of using barley, but it's delicious with basically any whole grain; try wheat berries or spelt.

Think of the crunchy, granolaish sesame clusters as seedy croutons for this juicy and bracing salad.

Rompope is served chilled, often over ice, but it can be served warm, which is how I prefer it when cold weather sets in. Either way, it's rich, velvety, fragrant, and certainly full of cheer.

A sparkling drink made blush with a tart beet granita. Ruby-skinned beets are an unexpected but welcome ingredient in cocktails: their high sugar content and bright hue make them an excellent, all-natural way to add a pop of color and flavor. Here, the beets are pureed into a granita, with spicy star anise and allspice to complement their earthy undertones, and then topped with a refreshing dose of prosecco.

This is a great way to use up leftover roasted vegetables and chicken and turn them into a light salad. The roasted veggies are more interesting the second time around in a vinaigrette as opposed to just on their own. Even when I don't have leftover roasted veggies, I have been known to toss some raw ones in the oven just to make this delicious dressing, which I eat on everything: pasta, grilled fish, and, obviously, chicken. The chicken for this salad can be warm or cold, straight from the fridge.

My Mom, Veronica, is pretty much a vegetarian these days. When she invites us over for "meatloaf," this is what we get—and I like it a lot; in fact, even Todd does. The lentils and the brown rice make it hearty while at the same time kind of fluffy and light. My favorite part about it is the fresh tomato sauce, which is almost like a salsa. Checca is a Southern Italian term for this fresh sauce, which is called by different names in different regions. Some of it goes into the lentil loaf and the rest is served alongside.

In every good restaurant kitchen, there's a combination of thrift and innovation. We always have a dish like this chowder on the menu because when we portion fish for main courses, there are inevitably some pieces of our excellent, sushi-quality fish too small to serve on their own. And that is another great reason to buy your fish whole: not only can you save the bones and head for fish stock, but you'll be generating two meals from one shopping trip. We call it chowder to give the idea of a hearty, chunky fish soup (sea bass, shrimp, mussels) with a lot of texture from vegetables. Our version shows off kabocha squash and ají dulce peppers. These are specific varieties of squash and pepper that I search for at the Greenmarket for their deep flavor and beautiful aroma. If you can't find these, use another variety of squash and mild pepper.

Editor's Note: Use this broth to make Andy Ricker's Het Paa Naam Tok (Isaan-style Forest Mushroom Salad) . Flavor Profile: Spicy, slightly bitter and smoky Slowly toasted dried chiles—seeds and all—become a smoky, spicy ingredient that's essential to many recipes in [Pok Pok]. The key is to toast them over low heat until they're thoroughly dry and very dark, coaxing out a deep, tobacco-like flavor that has a bitter edge, but stopping before the pleasant bitterness turns acrid.

This recipe is a wonderful way to celebrate the spoils of the Southern hunt, though it is just as delicious when made with farm-raised quail. If quail livers aren't included with the quail, chicken livers would be a good substitute. The size of a quail makes each bird a perfect individual portion for a dinner party. To make the stuffing, we've used another reward of the "hunt": wild mushrooms. When we forage in the woods near Summerland Farm, the mushrooms we most often find are chanterelles and hen-of-the-woods, especially prolific during a moist season. If you are foraging, be absolutely sure you know what you are looking for, as poisonous varieties can sometimes look dangerously similar to edible ones. To be on the safe side, visit a gourmet market or natural foods grocery store for a nice choice of mushrooms. We serve the quail on a bed of Wilted Autumn Greens.

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.