Italian

Letting the roast sit at room temperature will help it cook more evenly; starting it at a higher temperature jump-starts the browning process.

As with biscotti there is an undeniable American-Italian influence at play here but, once again, I embrace this. Actually, though, American-Italian food has had its own influence on the cooking of the Old Country: these days, I am reliably informed by my Italian publisher and celebrated food writer, Csaba dalla Zorza, you can find dried cranberries with relative ease in Italy. The true Italian Christmas dinner is very much about the capon. Yes, you can find capons outside of Italy, although not everyone can quite cope with the idea of eating a castrated cockerel. Many understandably view old-school caponization with distaste, although it is considered ethically acceptable if the rooster has been chemically rather than surgically castrated. I don't know about you, but the idea of eating meat that has been flooded with the types of hormones necessarily involved here gives me the willies. Besides, my Christmas Dinner is my Christmas Dinner: unchanging, ritualistic, an intrinsic part of me. When in Rome, and all that, but if I'm cooking at home, I don't fiddle with my time-honored menu. I'm not going to give an evangelical tub-thump about my turkey brining techniques, as I've done enough of that in the past, but I am still open to other ways of celebrating the Big Bird and this recipe is a case in point. For me, it is perfect for any sort of seasonal supper party, but really comes into its own on a buffet table, as it carves fantastically and is as good (maybe even better) cold than hot, so you can make it in advance and then be the world's most unharried host on the night. You need to go to a butcher to get a while breast joint and you need to ask for it to be butterflied and boned and make sure the skin is left on. I know it might sound a bit of a faff, but take it from me that stuffing a while double breast joint is very much easier than stuffing and rolling a single breast joint, as is more commonly found in supermarkets. Basically, all you're doing here is opening out your boneless turkey joint, smothering it with stuffing, and folding it over. What you end up with, for all the ease of its creation, is nothing short of a showstopper.

If you've never encountered struffoli before, they are best described—visually at any rate—as the croquembouche of southern Italy: small dough balls, and I mean really small, the size of marbles, that are deep-fried and then rolled in honey before being assembled into a cone—as in the French piled-up profiteroles model—or a bulging wreath. Since I was taught the recipe by a pair of Calabrian sisters, I make mine as their Mamma makes hers; and this takes the wreath form. I'll be honest: you don't make these because you're seeking some exquisite taste sensation; struffoli are about custom, celebration, and sweetness. This, in effect, is the festive centerpiece of Christmas in the south of Italy. You get a very real sense of this if you make the struffoli not alone, but in company, with other hands to roll out the dough with you. Children love doing this, by the way, and their little hands are much better suited for rolling the small marble-sized dough balls you need. Obviously, children are best kept away from the deep-frying part of the operation. As for the decoration, I've seen not only the regular cake-decorating sprinkles used but also candied fruit, glacé cherries, almond dragées, and cinnamon-preserved pumpkin pieces. It's the former, solely, for me. And although I've seen only the multicolored ones in Italy, I go for the festive and flag-resonant Christmas sprinkles in red, white, and green. The struffoli would look more beautiful, perhaps, left burnished but otherwise unadorned, although gaudiness not elegant restraint—I'm firmly told—is in order here; I have tried to maintain some balance between the two.

No endless simmering and stirring for this garlicky pasta sauce. Here, canned tomatoes are oven-roasted, which intensifies their flavor while cutting down on fuss.

This zabaione (zabaglione) and lemongrass ice cream dessert is adapted from Chef Massimo Bottura of Osteria Francescana in Modena, Italy. It is his unique take on a lemon tart, served upside down and smashed. According to Chef Bottura, "this dessert pokes fun at our daily striving for perfection and pristine beauty. I love the dynamics of a lemon tart but hate all the fuss—cream decorations and stubborn crusts. To get around all that nonsense, we purposefully crushed our tart. Of course, it isn’t just a one-liner but full of flavored experience from the most fragile crust to the peaks of tart, sour, sweet, cured, and candied lemon on the plate." This recipe makes 2 large tarts: You can make 2 and freeze 1 (keeping all elements separate in the freezer and assembling just before serving) or you can halve the ingredients.

In Milan, osso buco is traditionally served on a bed of creamy saffron risotto and topped with a pungent, colorful topping of garlic, lemon zest, parsley, and anchovies known as gremolata.

The ultimate holiday vacation cooking project: lasagna with two homemade sauces and layers of homemade pasta.

Most fish markets will sell you the bones you need to make the rich broth, but avoid those from oily fish like mackerel or bluefish, which will overpower the stew's flavor.

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

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

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.

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."

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.

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.

This bright, vegetarian sauce features lemon three ways: juice, zest, and preserved lemon peel.

Because this dough is eggless, it has great al dente texture. If you can't find durum wheat flour, all-purpose will work well, too.

"I spend most of late summer picking these veggies," Bemis says. "I have to get creative to keep up. The pesto makes this combo so refreshing."

This dish is called misticanza ("mixed greens") on the Ava Gene's menu. You can sauté whatever leafy greens you like or happen to have on hand; it's an ideal way to use up those slightly past their prime.

If you'd like, let the croutons sit in the pepper mixture until the bread is fairly soft; it'll soak up the flavorful dressing.