Dried Fruit

Satisfying nut medleys taste better when they're not dumped straight from the "deluxe assortment" can.

The sweetness of the squash, dates, and coconut oil in this simple roast is balanced by the garlic and woodsy herbs.

Make a double batch of the almond-currant topping, then use it as a crunchy finish for salads and grain dishes. Though Admony calls for whole-wheat couscous, plain works just as well.

"It's everything I want in a salad: sweet, crunchy, and bright." —Claire Saffitz, assistant food editor

To make your own baharat spice blend, mix one teaspoon each of ground coriander and cumin with half a teaspoon each of cinnamon and paprika.

This is an interesting twist on our beautiful soda bread. Look for dried cranberries in the larger supermarkets or any health food shop should stock them. This is my favourite bread that we serve as part of our bread selection in the evening.

This is a lovely crunchy and tangy accompaniment to cold meats and salads. Store any leftovers in the refrigerator and use within a few days.

Buttermilk lightens the traditional all-cream panna cotta base—without sacrificing lusciousness.

This classic pie combines sweet Red Anjou pears with the subtle tartness of dried apricots and the distinct crunch of pecans.

Just as American children anxiously await their Christmas gifts months in advance, I anxiously awaited this scrumptious cake. Nian-Gao, New Year's cake, is one of the most important holiday dishes in many Asian countries. Eating Nian-Gao during the New Year's celebration is said to bring safety and fortune to the entire family for the coming year, though I now make it for family gatherings throughout the year.

Not a big baker? This dessert is for you. The simple topping can be made in one bowl and results in an airy, tender biscuit no matter your skill level.

To cut baking time, fork the tuber a few times, then nuke for 5 minutes.

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.

The Christmas season in Puerto Rico is blessed with balmy weather and clear skies. There is nothing like dining under the shade of a gourd tree on Christmas Eve, savoring every morsel of the earthy tamales called pasteles and adobo-flavored pork while looking at the sea. Puerto Rican women get together with their families to prepare pasteles by the hundred, freezing them until needed for Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, family reunions, the Fiesta de Reyes, and the religious season called octavas that follows the Feast of the Epiphany. It is the blend of the tiny pepper ají dulce and broad-leaf culantro in the fragrant sofrito (cooking sauce) that gives an unmistakable Puerto Rican identity to these earthy tamales. A dash of vinegar lends the sofrito just the right amount of tang against the mild dough of malanga and plantain tinted orange-yellow with achiote-infused lard. I learned to make these in the traditional kitchen of the Puerto Rican side of my family. While one person took care of trimming the plantain leaves, others were busy grating the vegetables and making the sofrito. There the vegetables are grated by hand, though you can find machines designed specially for this purpose in any market or use a food processor. Puerto Ricans are extremely fussy about the wrapping—it has to be perfect and watertight because pasteles are normally boiled. But I prefer to steam them.

This delicious combination provides a mouthful of contrasts—crispy savoury bacon and soft, melting sweet prunes—great served hot or cold. Substitute the prunes with dried apricots for an equally tasty alternative.