Judy Rodgers

Cook's Note: Choose ripe Anjou, slightly under ripe Comice, or very ripe Bosc pears for this tart. Serve with a dollop of crème fraîche.

Sort of a scrappy extramural stuffing, this is a warm mix of crispy, tender and chewy chunks of bread, moistened with vinaigrette and turkey drippings. It is a holiday variation on our traditional bread salad—I've substituted dried cranberries for the usual dried currants. Tasting as you make it is obligatory, and fun. I recommend you allow a little extra bread and vinaigrette the first time you make this recipe, so you can taste with impunity. For the best texture, use chewy, peasant-style bread with lots of big and little holes in the crumb. Such loaves are usually scaled at 1 or 2 pounds; plan on 1/4-pound bread per person. I don't use sourdough or levain type bread for this recipe, finding the sour flavor too strong and rich for this dish. And make sure to use day-old bread; fresh bread can make a soggy, doughy salad.

This is a pretty winter antipasto requiring almost no work. 

Brining turkey makes it more succulent, more tender and well-seasoned throughout. I offer two curing procedures, one for those who've got the space to wet-cure the whole bird in the refrigerator, and a wet-then-dry method where refrigerator space is limited. The first method yields the very best results, but the second method still makes startlingly juicy, tasty roast turkey.

A tricky dish to do in volume, and hence, I tend to forget to make it at the restaurant, but it is easy for the home cook. An obvious friend to bacon and eggs, these lacy cakes are also good with almost any roasted meat or bird. The sweet-salty flavor and crispy texture is irresistible and appeals to those not usually fond of sweet potatoes. These hash browns are also very pretty made with a combination of starchy, yellow sweet potatoes and a little bit of orange yam. (Don't use all yams; by themselves they form a wet, dense mass, not a lacy cake. They don't have enough starch to stick together and form a crust. They do, on the other hand, try to stick to the pan.)

Fleshy outer escarole leaves, too tough for salad, make a delicious "what-is-this?" side dish. Slowly wilted, the sturdy leaves fall into gorgeous, satiny folds with a long, earthy, sweet flavor. Don't be tempted to use the pale escarole hearts—they usually turn brown and lack sweetness; save them for salads. Good with fish, poultry, pork, or beef.