Fall

In the autumn, as schools of swordfish swam south into the Bay of Policastro, the fishermen of the Cilento were often their conquerors, luring the great fish with oil-soaked bread and hauling them up from the sea—porting them like vanquished kings, high atop their heads up the steep paths from the water—to their camps to roast them or smoke them over smoldering fires of pine and olive and citrus woods. Sometimes, the Cilentini cured the fish under salt and foraged grasses and spiceberries, dousing the flesh with their own rough-made spirits. Served a dish such as this, one could think it the offering of some cultivated chef, yet, then and there, it was nothing more than the improvised handiwork of hungry men.

Of all winter squash, Kabocha holds a special place in my heart. Rich and sweet, its dense orange flesh is one of my favorite winter flavors. For this soup, instead of sautéing the squash and fennel, I roast them in the oven to bring out their natural sweetness. If you can’t find Kabocha, use another winter squash, such as butternut or Hubbard. The pumpkin seeds, or pepitas, are coated in sugar, paprika, cumin, cinnamon, and cayenne; I think of them as adult Halloween candy. Sprinkled over the top, they give this delicious winter soup a feisty coronation.

When I was growing up, apples seemed so bland and boring—I could never get excited about a mushy Red Delicious the way I could a summer peach. But today, thanks to small farmers around the country like Barbara and Bill Spencer of Windrose Farms, we have a lot more choices where apples are concerned, and a lot more to get excited about. Determined to revive the disappearing heirlooms, the Spencers painstakingly planted more than forty varieties of apple trees on their farm in Paso Robles, California. It took 6 years for the trees to produce, and that glorious fall, when Barbara turned up at the back door of Lucques with boxes and boxes of their impressive crop, I was blown away. The apples looked dazzlingly beautiful and tasted even better. From russeted emerald greens to mottled pinks to deep burgundy-blacks, we sampled our way through them all, picking our favorites and taking note of which were better raw and which were better cooked. Some of our favorites for eating out of hand were Braeburn, Arkansas Black, and Gernes Red Acre. Crisp, sweet, and tart, these revelatory fruits were the inspiration for this fall salad. And if it’s not enough that they’re growing all these beautiful heirloom apples, Barbara and Bill also grow some of the best Asian pears I’ve ever tasted. Juicy and delicately perfumed, they’re a fun surprise, sliced and tossed with the apples, buttermilk, mint, and radicchio in this thirst-quenching salad.

This is not your mild-mannered pork chop! The pork porterhouse is two cuts of meat in one—just like its better-known cousin the beef porterhouse. From the short loin of the pig, the pork porterhouse (porkerhouse?) consists of the soft, luscious tenderloin on one side of the bone and the meatier loin on the other. The classic American accompaniment to pork is, of course, apples. But in place of the traditional applesauce, I like to serve these hefty chops with the time-honored duo of apples and potatoes. Called deux pommes, or two apples—one from a tree and one from the earth—the two are sautéed together until crispy and golden brown. To show off more of fall’s cornucopia, I’ve added quince, “Eve’s apple,” to the mix. Slathering the chops with quince jam (membrillo in Spanish cuisine, cotognata in Italian) is a sophisticated nod back to that applesauce. Be sure to cut the quince, apples, and potatoes into similar-sized pieces, so when they’re cooked they all look the same. The mystery is part of the fun; there’s no telling which bite will be which pomme.

This robust stew is best in late winter or early spring, when there’s still a lingering chill in the air. Tomatoes, olives, and red wine, hallmark flavors of the stew’s southern-French provenance, make up its flavorful saucy base. Traditionally, it’s made with a chuck roast, but I find that boneless short ribs yield a more succulent result. The tomatoes help thicken the sauce and add a deep sweetness. This time of year, rather than using mealy, out-of-season tomatoes, I opt for canned San Marzanos. If you can’t find San Marzanos, look for another brand of Italian canned tomatoes.

This fall version of the Ginger Smash has been with us for years, but it truly came together with the addition of allspice dram, a highly bitter and aromatized liqueur. It contrasts two of our favorite ingredients—pears and ginger. Gin mixes very well with pears because it helps open up the subtle aromas that these pome fruits are prized for. Green Bartlett pears are our choice in this cocktail because of their tartness and solid nature. Feel free to try whatever pear you can find in its peak of season.

When i was a kid, one of my favorite fall activities was hunting for wild mushrooms with my brothers in the woods around our home. For this pizza, make sure the mushroom pieces are all roughly the same size so they cook evenly. The runny egg yolk that sauces this pizza binds all the flavors together.

My go-to salad for the fall, this simple combination tastes great with just about everything. Fresh, toasted poppy seeds release a delicious, complex nuttiness into the dressing. You can also add avocado and shrimp or chicken to turn this salad into a complete meal.

Apple pie fans are drawn to this less tart, juicy alternative. You can also adjust the taste of the pie by choosing your favorite pear type. Yellow Bartlett pears are a great option because of their juicy sweetness. Red Bartlett or the more crisp and woodsy Bosc pear varieties also work well—or you can mix and match various pear types in a single pie to create your own blend of sweet, tangy, and aromatic flavors. You can also try this pie with Cinnamon Sugar Crumb Topping (page 12).

To use fresh pumpkin, halve and place a 1 3/4-pound sugar pumpkin, cut sides down, in a baking pan. Roast in a 400°F oven until very soft, fifty to sixty minutes. Scoop out flesh and purée in a food processor until very smooth.

Thanks to Mrs. Brown, mother of longtime Mrs. Rowe’s employee Eric Brown, for this gently flavored pie recipe. It’s a testament to the Southern creative ability to use everything from the garden, not letting anything go to waste.

This extremely moist pie tastes milky and sweet. The consistency is nothing like pumpkin pie; rather than being a smooth custard, it’s sturdy and textured.

Mildred’s grandson Aaron DiGrassie learned to make this pie during his days of cooking at the Excelsior Hotel in Italy. With its sturdy texture and perfect amount of sweetness, this recipe seems like it could have come from any Southern granny’s recipe file.

Crabapples grow abundantly in Appalachia and in other parts of the South. It takes a lot of these small apples to make 6 cups, but for people who love tart apples, this tiny powerhouse of a fruit is unbeatable. Depending on where you live, the season starts in August and sometimes continues into early winter. Whenever crabapple season occurs in your area, make it a point to slip this unusual treat into your yearly pie rituals. To core the crabapples, slice off the blossom end with a paring knife and cut around the core in four cuts. This will leave a squarish core, which is much easier than trying to halve and core the crabapples. If you can’t find crabapples, substitute tart apples, such as Granny Smith, and coat the diced apples with the vanilla, lemon juice, and water right away, instead of sprinkling them on after the pie is filled.

If you like the flavor of sour apples, cut the amount of sugar in the filling to 1/3 cup. If you want to enhance the sweetness, serve with a scoop of vanilla or cinnamon ice cream. This recipe comes from Cynthia Craig, a longtime baker at the restaurant.

This pretty pie is reminiscent of the toffee apples that were a fairground favorite in Mrs. Rowe’s day. The brown sugar delivers a gooey, sweet flavor. For an extra treat, serve with a scoop of cinnamon ice cream.

This moist and crumbly pie has a consistency almost like a coffee cake. As a result, unlike most pies, it’s safe to cut into this one when it’s slightly warm. As with all prebaked pastry crusts, it’s important to cover the edges with foil or crust shields while the filling bakes, so it doesn’t burn. Walnuts, almonds, or pecans work nicely with this pie.

This pie offers a perfect blend of apples and raisins. You can add the sweet icing, which is a surprising and delightful touch—or a scoop of vanilla ice cream on a blisteringly hot, Southern summer day.

Although the flavor might seem unusual for a cupcake, sweet potatoes have long been pureed and baked into desserts, such as sweet potato pie. This playful rendition of a traditional Thanksgiving side dish—complete with mini marshmallows and candied pecans on top—will appeal to anyone who loves the sweet, earthy flavors of root vegetables. Serve the cupcakes as one component of a holiday dessert buffet. If you like, bake and mash the sweet potatoes the day before you make the cupcakes; let cool completely and refrigerate, covered.