Easter

This light and satisfying soup highlights the earthy flavor of the greens.

Here's an updated version of a classic comfort-food casserole.

Why should kids have all the fun? A lovely way to keep the conversation going long after dessert, these soft, aromatic little confections are like Peeps for adults. Lillet perfumes the marshmallows with orange and honey notes and gives them a haunting buzz.

Salads don't always need vinegar or lemon juice. A mix of Boston and Bibb lettuce, seasoned with only good olive oil and salt, goes well with the more piquant dishes in this menu.

Your subconscious will register "early spring" with this combination of double-thick lamb chops and earthy, grassy Swiss chard. Perfect for Easter dinner, the dish is heightened by the tang of Dijon mustard and the subtle sweetness of plump golden raisins.

A pretty ring of seasonal veggies to surround the leg of lamb.

The easiest way to crack the coriander seeds is to put them in a heavy-duty plastic bag and pass over them with a rolling pin. For a great sandwich, split a biscuit and fill it with sliced ham or smoked salmon.

Side dishes made from fresh legumes, vegetables, and mint can be found all over Italy, but this quickly cooked version cuts down on labor by using frozen peas and artichoke hearts. It adds a bright touch of spring to cod’s meaty white flakes.

The three main elements in this recipe make an unbeatable combination. The soft, sweet taste of the lamb coupled with full green flavor of the spinach and the nutty, full-bodied taste of the lentils makes every bite a gastronomic pleasure. These lentils are one of my favorites. I've interpreted a recipe from the masterful chef Judy Rodgers of San Francisco's Zuni Café.

A comfort food menu just wouldn't be complete without something fried. In this addictive appetizer, slices of cooked artichoke are mixed into a beer batter and then dropped into bubbling oil.

Mint with lamb is a classic combination. Here, the mint is made into a gremolata, a garnish that is traditionally made with parsley and sprinkled over osso buco. And because spring is just around the corner, this long-cooked piece of meat is served with an assortment of baby veggies.

This delicacy only tastes decadent—the cake is so low in fat, you can afford to splurge by adding coconut and a luxurious sauce.

Transform your picnic into un pique-nique to remember with this elegant arrangement of tangy potato salad, peas gently mashed with marjoram, and salty ham softly set in parsleyed gelatin.

I remember exactly when I first encountered these celestial biscuits. It was in the early 1970s as I prowled the South in search of great grassroots cooks to feature in a new series I was writing for Family Circle magazine. Through country home demonstration agents, I obtained the names of local women who'd won prizes at the county and state fairs. I then interviewed two or three of them in each area before choosing my subject. And all, it seemed, couldn't stop talking about "this fantastic new biscuit recipe" that was all the rage—something called Angel Biscuits. The local cookbooks I perused also featured Angel Biscuits, often two or three versions of them in a single volume. Later, when I began researching my American Century Cookbook, I vowed to learn the origin of these feathery biscuits. My friend Jeanne Voltz, for years the Women's Day food editor, thought that Angel Biscuits descended from an old Alabama recipe called Riz Biscuits, which she remembered from her childhood. Helen Moore, a freelance food columnist living near Charlotte, North Carolina, told me that a home economics professor of hers at Winthrop College in South Carolina had given her the Angel Biscuits recipe back in the 1950s. "I remember her saying, 'I've got a wonderful new biscuit recipe. It's got yeast in it.'" Others I've queried insist that Angel Biscuits were created at one of the fine southern flour millers; some say at White Lily, others at Martha White (and both are old Nashville companies). In addition to the soft flour used to make them, Angel Biscuits owe their airiness to three leavenings: yeast, baking powder, and baking soda. Small wonder they're also called "bride's biscuits." They are virtually foolproof.

An Indian-inspired version of the French classic, layered with eye-opening flavors (yes, it hurts so good), this is a great side dish with any of the meat offerings in this book. I love to serve it for Sunday brunch, as a piquant alternative to hash browns.

Shaving the side edge of the coconut pieces with a vegetable peeler is the best way to get strips of uniform width for garnishing the cake.

Rhubarb and strawberries usually meet in late-spring pies. This dessert plays on the combination's sophistication. When roasted, rhubarb becomes more intense in flavor and color while still retaining its shape. Rose water contributes a floral delicacy (use it sparingly; a little goes a long way), and strawberry sorbet imparts a cool note.

Gremolata (a classic Italian garnish made from lemon peel, parsley, and garlic) gets a new twist here with the addition of tarragon.