Oven Bake

This is a true weekend-long project—and that's a good thing. Seasoning, cooking, and crisping the meat over the course of three days mean you don't have to spend hours in the kitchen the day you're hosting a big meal. In fact, the extra time your pork spends in the refrigerator only improves the taste. This is the perfect-for-a-party pork that gives you plenty of time to drink a beer and watch (or play) a game or two before grilling up crispy, tender slabs of pork shoulder for a crowd.

Rotisserie chicken and store-bought puff pastry make quick work of this comforting kale- and squash-stuffed pot pie.

Sometimes it's okay to cut corners: Here we make the classic Italian dish with bacon and skip the multiday air-drying process. It's not traditional, but it sure is delicious

It can be hard to gauge what's happening under all that salt, but these times are accurate. If your fish is on the smaller side, take it out on the lower end of the range.

A beautifully browned bird and seasonal vegetables cook in a single skillet for an effortless dinner. Swap in carrots, quartered onions, or tiny potatoes—anything goes.

Cooking your stuffing in an ovenproof skillet means it can go from stove to oven without missing a beat. Prepping your aromatic vegetables in the food processor cuts down on chopping time, too.

Prep the savory hash and refrigerate in individual ramekins for a quick and 
easy breakfast; just top with an egg and bake.

Toast the cornbread for a nice crisp texture.

Feta, Kalamata olives, oregano, and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice give this grilled-squash pizza its unmistakably Greek flavor. I use a panini press to grill the slices of yellow squash and zucchini because I love the look and slightly charred flavor this method produces. You can also cook the squash in the oven or on a grill or stove-top grill pan. Grilling the cut face of a lemon half in the same way gives it a beautiful appearance and tones down its acidity a bit.

When my wife, Julie, and I got married, we knew there was only one place to go for our honeymoon: Italy. I was excited to take her to Gombitelli, the tiny town in the mountains near Lucca where my dad's side of the family came from. My great-grandparents, Angelo and Olimpia Gemignani, had left Gombitelli for America at the turn of the last century, and my Grandpa Frank was born right after they got off the boat. We meandered through the Tuscan countryside, following increasingly sketchy gravel roads and finally ending up on a narrow donkey trail that wound up the side of a steep mountain. I remembered this road from a visit I'd made seven years earlier. Since then, it seemed to have eroded and gotten even narrower. It was barely wide enough for a car, with a sheer drop along one side and, naturally, no guardrail. We came to a dead end, the front of the car facing a deep ravine, and an old man came out of his house, waving violently and screaming at us in Italian. I rolled down the window and said "Gemignani?" His expression changed from rage to joy as he motioned to follow him and raced off, back down the road, yelling "Gemignani! Gemignani!" I made the most terrifying U-turn of my life and followed him. The minute I saw the little house and farm, I had the same overwhelming feeling I'd had the first time I'd been there. It was like stepping into my grandpa's farm in California. Although he'd never even been to Italy, he had the blood of a Tuscan contadino—and there in front of me was his backyard in every detail: the same flowers, the lemon tree, the dogwood, the fava beans, the big wine jugs wrapped in straw, the rusty tools scattered around. That California farm and my grandpa are long gone, but in that moment, I was home again. My cousins had decided there was one thing they absolutely had to serve us for our welcome meal: pizza, of course. And this is the one they made. It was quite thin, almost like a toasted flatbread, and I've replicated that in this recipe by rolling the dough out and docking it, so you get a light, crisp crust that's just right with the gutsy puttanesca-style combination of crushed tomatoes, olives, garlic, and anchovies.

In 2006, I packed up my gear and traveled to the Mall of America for the Food Network Pizza Champions Challenge. Over the course of a very grueling day, we competed for three Guinness World Records in front of a big audience and a panel of famous judges. I won two of the world-record rounds: Biggest Pizza Continuously Spinning for Two Minutes, and Most Consecutive Rolls Across the Shoulders in 30 Seconds. By comparison, round three, the cooking challenge, felt as easy as pie. Four of us gathered at our stations to get our marching orders: create a gourmet pizza in ten minutes using none of the top ten toppings—no pepperoni, no sausage, you get the idea. So, my instinct was to combine two of my favorite pizza worlds, California and Italy. I grabbed five totally traditional Italian ingredients: prosciutto, fig jam, Gorgonzola, Asiago, and balsamic vinegar. They're classic, but the thing is, you'd never find them on a pizza in Italy, at least not all together. But to us "why not?" Californians, the combination makes perfect sense as a pizza topping, and it made sense to the judges, too.

In 2013, I was a judge at a big pizza competition in Paris. In two days, I tasted seventy-three pizzas, most of them too rich and fussy for my taste. Let's just say that almost every entry featured smoked fish, foie gras, gold leaf, or edible flowers. But one extravagant ingredient that I thought really did work was truffles, and that inspired me to come up with this pizza that makes the most of truffle paste, wild mushrooms, and two of my favorite French cheeses: nutty Comté and triple-cream Saint André. If you like, you can top the fully baked pizza with paper-thin slices of prosciutto or speck. And if you can get your hands on a fresh truffle, shave it on top right at the table. That's the kind of simple, earthy luxury I can really get behind.

Choose a country-style sourdough, preferably not too tangy, and if you prefer hot Italian links, go for it.

If you like stuffing with smoked oysters, you'll like it even more with tart lemons on top.

Swap in veggie stock and make all your vegetarian relations happy.

Store-bought cornbreads can be very sweet; taste before using, or omit the sugar from your favorite recipe.

You'll never be tempted to buy packaged again.