American

With the rise of the Italian and Portuguese populations in Rhode Island's fishing communities in the middle of the nineteenth century came the introduction of the tomato into traditional clam chowder. By the twentieth century, this new version came to be called Manhattan clam chowder (some historians say that it was also called Coney Island clam chowder and Fulton Market clam chowder). It is believed that disdainful New Englanders named the red-stained chowder after Manhattan because they believed New Yorkers were the only ones crazy enough to add tomato to a pristine white chowder.

Frosted with a rich salted caramel icing, this tender caramel cake—a classic Southern dessert—is a fun and delicious baking project worth every minute.

Boiled peanuts, perhaps more than any other Southern snack, inspire a kind of intense cultural loyalty, one that crosses all lines of class and race. That may be why we missed them so when we moved away from Charleston to colleges in Massachusetts, and it's why, when we began to sell Southern foods by mail order after college (our liberal arts degrees be damned), we used the boiled peanut as the keystone in our little mail-order foods catalogue, which we named "The Lee Bros. Boiled Peanuts Catalogue" (boiledpeanuts.com). Boiled peanuts are associated with the outdoors, and can be purchased in the Charleston area by the side of the road from vendors set up in vacant lots and sandy strips on the way to the beach, adjacent to the ballpark, or at fairgrounds. They are prepared in homes as well, but rarely seen in a restaurant setting (with a few exceptions these days: Hubee-D's, Hominy Grill, The Bar at Husk, and The Wreck). Like the ungainly name, the damp boiled peanut itself presents a few obstacles to universal enjoyment. Not everyone likes their distinctive grassy flavor or the clammy wetness on the fingers as one picks them apart—and they achieve some exclusivity by being challenging in that respect. Judged on flavor alone, with an open mind, they are divine. And the smell of peanuts boiling is, to us, part of the pleasure of the process. Our grandmother's landlady, the late Elizabeth Jenkins Young, once remarked to us (in her sonorous variant of the Charleston accent, with a sea island cadence from an upbringing on Edisto Island) that the smell of our peanuts boiling on Gran's stove reminded her of a "sweet potato gone sour." Not that she didn't like them; she proudly displayed her I BRAKE FOR BOILED PEANUTS bumper sticker in the back window of the blue VW Rabbit she won at the 1983 Spoleto Festival auction. But the earthy quality of the peanut, which grows underground and is full of minerals, and the sweetness of it, does in fact suggest the basic character of a sweet potato. When peanuts are freshly dug, and refrigerated like a fresh vegetable rather than dried, they are called "green" peanuts; and these, when available (usually in the summer months and into the fall), are worth seeking out for their extra tenderness—cut about 4 hours off the boiling time below—and subtlety of flavor. Some green peanuts will be slightly immature, and like a soft-shell crab, may be eaten whole, shell and all.

She-crab soup might just be this city's most overworked culinary icon—so much so that in restaurants of quality in Charleston, you can detect more than a few chefs assiduously avoiding it. But an expertly made she-crab soup is a rare pleasure at home, and should be a part of every cook's repertoire. When we were in our teenage years, the soup seemed extra special because it's seasoned with sherry and traditionally served with a cruet of the fortified wine, the latter to pass around the table in case you wanted to add an extra jolt. But she-crab soup isn't about the sherry (and in fact, we've come to realize that too often the sherry overpowers the crab), it's about the roe; and we don't think we'd ever truly reckoned with how important that roe is—coupled with the freshest crab meat you can find, of course—until the recent spring day we picked and cleaned an entire bushel of crabs (eighty, give or take) in a sitting. Since female crabs with roe inside are most prevalent in the spring, we found crab roe inside many of the adult females, called "sooks," as we cleaned them, after cooking. When you remove the carapace (or top shell) from the body of the crab, the crab roe—if it's there—will appear as a mass of bright orange in the middle of the body, and sometimes you may also find more roe tucked in the sharp left and right points of the carapace. The roe has an earthy-briny flavor, and adds a pale orange color to this soup. In our recipe, we blend it into the soup itself and also use a portion to garnish each bowl. Is it possible to buy crab roe alone? Unfortunately, no. So when we make this soup now, we buy picked crab meat and a half-dozen female crabs with roe from our local market. Any fish market that takes the time to sell hard-shell blue crabs will know how to spot a female with crab roe, because the roe makes the underside of the carapace appear light orange. It really is worth going to the trouble to find the real deal; you won't be disappointed! Regarding the sherry: recently we've taken to giving each guest his or her own shot glass full of fino sherry (one of the most delicate expressions of the fortified wine) to drink as a paired beverage, instead of sending a cruet around the table.

If your idea of coleslaw is the pleated paper cup of shredded stuff alongside BLTs at the diner, it's time for a new rule: Slaw doesn't go with the sandwich, it goes on the sandwich.

This fresh seasonal sauce—so good you'll be glad to have leftovers—features less sugar than traditional barbecue sauces. Serve the moist, flavorful chicken on warmed burger buns. Wear rubber gloves when mincing the jalapeño so you don't burn your hands. When prepping the fresh cherries, wear a dark shirt, use a good cherry pitter, and work over two bowls: one for the pits and stems and the other for the usable flesh. Feel into the center of each cherry after pitting and de-stemming to make sure that no pit remains.

The addition of celery root is a great twist on the familiar flavors in this dish.

This dish is inspired by a salad on the menu at Keens Steakhouse in NYC.

Using frozen berries in desserts is a clever way to add flavor and vibrant color in colder months. Choose a mild honey, such as clover or orange blossom, to let the fruits shine.

There's nothing as delightful as a towering stack of fluffy pancakes. Unless those pancakes happen to be reminiscent of your favorite mint chocolate chip ice cream. The green food coloring here is optional but adds nicely to the appeal.

These are no ordinary corn dogs. The fragrant buttermilk-cornmeal batter is laced with a hint of honey, spices, and delicious crumbles of bacon.

Because their delicious apple filling is all sealed up—wrapped in dough like hand pies or campfire pies, but bite-size—these sweet little pies are perfect finger food. They transport easily, so you can take them to parties or potlucks. Or pack a few into your lunch for a sweet snack.

Opting for top round beef keeps our sliders on the leaner side, with only 4 g sat fat apiece.

Packing these puppies full of veggies gives them a wallop of low-cal flavor, leaving plenty of room for queso.

We subbed baked chips for fried. Same flavor, less fat.

These mini-taters keep portion size in check, so you can enjoy cheesy, bacony goodness without thinking twice.

Bonus points for serving one huge stack and making your family get all Jenga on it for seconds.

We get a little weak-kneed with delight around cakes, particularly cakes whimsically shaped to look like something else—in this case, a Yule log. Made famous in France as Bûches de Noël, these sheet cakes, filled, rolled, and frosted to look like the trunks of trees, complete with the stumps of sawed off branches, provide creative cooks the very real opportunity to play with their food. Want a few woodsy meringue mushrooms made from meringue to continue the conceit? Why not? No offense to the French, but we think this Italian version, brushed with an espresso syrup, filled with whipped cream lightened mascarpone cheese, and encased in a serious chocolate ganache, which lends itself well to sculpting, is just about the best we've ever had. Buttercream frosting is good—we know only too well from licking many bowls of it clean—but ganache is easier to make and even better to eat! Editor's Note: This recipe is part of Gourmet's Modern Menu for A Christmas Classic. Menu also includes Herb-Crusted Beef Rib Roast with Potatoes, Carrots, and Pinot Noir Jus and Green Beans with Caramelized Pecans .

These spicy molasses cookies were a popular nineteenth-century New Orleans street food. For years, grocery stores throughout the United States have been selling them prepackaged, and often topped with white or pink icing.