Turkey

A grilled split turkey, golden brown as it comes from the parrilla, is one of my favorite dishes. Salt and pepper are all it needs. Such a simple preparation wants an equally uncomplicated but flavorful side dish. Chicory, which I learned to love when I worked in Italy as a young man, does the trick for me every time. Brushed with olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper, and grilled to crispness, it is as good as the turkey that it graces. If you are lucky enough to have acquired some chanterelles or other wild mushrooms to sauté, they make the crowning touch. Their color is like the caramelized crust of the chicken. I butterfly my turkeys differently than most butchers: I split them through the breastbone instead of the back, leaving the backbone in instead of discarding it. I think you get a juicier turkey this way, and an extra fun bone to pick.

Smoking a whole turkey is little more work than roasting a bird, but it infuses the meat with a rich, woodsy flavor. All it requires is setting up a grill. Once that's done, the turkey's good to go—all it needs is a simple glaze made from hot-pepper jelly. The final glaze caramelizes on the skin and adds a sweet and sour heat to the smoky turkey.

Chef Sean Brock created this dish using quail, but the technique pairs equally well with bone-in turkey breast, creating a surprisingly juicy version of a much-maligned cut. Searing a turkey breast on the stovetop crisps the skin beautifully, while basting with thyme- and garlic-scented duck fat enriches the lean meat. Green onions stand in for the green garlic for a silky, fresh sauce that's a welcome departure from classic gravy. Be sure to use homemade vegetable stock or a clear canned stock to preserve the brilliant green color. You can find duck fat from many gourmet shops, or online from D'Artagnan.

Beloved for a reason, this bird is brined and then air-dried in the refrigerator for the crispiest, most flavorsome turkey skin ever.

Steaming might seem a surprising way to start cooking a turkey, but the payoff is real: The extra step makes the bird extra-juicy, and cuts down on the overall cooking time.

Using miso on the turkey is a great way to get wonderfully moist meat — always a challenge at Thanksgiving. The skin doesn't get as crisp as it would without, but we think the succulent results are well worth the trade-off. The miso won't give the turkey an Asian flavor, but it will add a rich meatiness to the gravy. Don't use a brined or kosher turkey for this recipe or the bird will be too salty (miso has a high sodium content).

Most butchers will remove the backbone for you; see left to learn how. Lots of guests? Roast two 12–14-pounders; spatchcocking anything larger will be harder and takes longer.

Black truffle butter, available online and in fine grocery stores, adds a touch of aromatic luxury to the standard turkey. Rubbing the flavored butter under the skin allows the truffle flavor to permeate the meat while keeping it moist. Wear food-safe gloves to do this job; it makes it a lot neater and easier!

Savory, slow-cooked turkey and crispy skin are enhanced by a smoky pasilla purée and a sweet and tangy peach salsa in these Southern-inspired tacos.

These flavorsome burgers are ideal for relaxed family meals and offer a good hit of mood-lifting tryptophan.

A dairy-infused pork sausage stuffing infuses this turkey breast with richness and perfumes the meat with warm spices.

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.

Yes, gravy should be lump-free (always whisk, don't stir), but it's the flavor of the roux that makes or breaks what gets passed at the table. Toasting flour in butter is what develops its deep, nutty taste. You'll know it's done when it's the color of graham crackers and smells like popcorn.

Cook turkey legs separately from the breasts and be prepared for the greatest holiday-food “Aha!” moment ever.