American

I recently served this roast for the Thanksgiving holiday, thinking a departure from the usual turkey would be a welcome surprise—and it definitely was. The sweetness from the mustards absorbs into the meat, while the bacon keeps it nice and moist and adds a wonderful smokiness. Served over a lightly dressed fresh arugula salad, this will become a fast favorite—I promise.

Few things are more enticing than the smell of a chicken roasting, but for a special meal or a romantic evening such as Valentine’s Day, I like to serve game hens, so each person can have a whole bird of his or her own. It’s a beautiful presentation that is ridiculously easy to put together, and the pan juices, full of fresh citrus flavors, are especially delicious. If you prefer, though, you can easily make this with a large chicken; just increase the roasting time to 60 to 75 minutes, depending on its weight.

Burger purists often complain that substituting ground chicken or turkey for beef results in a dry, bland burger, but that needn’t be the case; these are super juicy and full of flavor. To keep them moist, I mix some of the garlic mayo right into the burgers themselves, then smear a bit more on each bun for good measure. Easy and yummy, yummy, yummy.

In place of apples, you can use pears here or a mixture. In fact, this is a universal crisp recipe and will work with just about any fruit. Almost needless to say, it’s great with vanilla ice cream.

Corn Bread is a quick bread—that is, risen with baking powder, not yeast—and the most useful one of all. Everyone loves it, too.

During the summer, rushing home with a bag of farm stand corn which you can get in almost any part of the country—and cooking it out on the grill is a real treat. But if you can’t find locally grown, just-picked corn, you shouldn’t count yourself out of the fun—new breeds of corn retain their sweetness very well. Even if you are buying your corn from the supermarket, just remember that it declines in sweetness as it ages, so it will be best to cook it as soon as possible after you bring it home. If your fire is raging hot, remove the inner silks from the corn and grill them in their husks. But if it’s in the normal range, grill the shucked corn directly over the fire. Ideally, some of the kernels will brown and even char.

Fish breathes new life into the “sandwich” of Mexico and the Southwest, replacing mystery meat with an identifiable fillet of delicate white fish like cod to make fish tacos, a rarity on the East Coast. Instead of frying, as is common in tacquerias, I like to steam the fish in its own juices, which can be done on top of the stove or in a microwave oven (in fact, this is one of the few cooking tasks at which the microwave excels).

Boiling or steaming lobster is the simplest cooking method, and it may seem like the best when you consider that plopping a lobster into a pot of boiling water is also the easiest way to kill it. Fortunately, there is a way to “parboil” lobster to kill it that will then allow you to grill or broil it without overcooking. The technique outlined here is easy, foolproof, and perhaps even humane. Make sure you boil plenty of water for the first step. You want to cook the lobsters barely but quickly. And have an ice-water bath ready to stop the cooking.

Three or four ingredients are traditional in a clambake: clams (which should be littlenecks, not steamers, to minimize sandiness and make eating easier); lobster, of which you don’t need much, about half per person; corn, an ear (or two, if it’s good) per person; sausage, which you can certainly do without if you prefer; and melted butter, which is entirely optional (and I find entirely unnecessary). If you have those things, all you need to do to mimic a real outdoor clambake, basically, is dump them in a pot, cover it, and turn on the heat. No kidding.

If you can find the rare (and shockingly expensive) true bay scallops from Nantucket or Long Island, by all means use them in this dish, but reduce the cooking time. Do not, however, try this dish with the tiny calico scallops (sometimes mislabeled as bays), which, despite your best efforts, will overcook before they brown.

Real bay scallops—which come from the waters between Cape Cod and Long Island—are in season through the winter and are an amazing treat (they’re also amazingly expensive). Though you can eat them raw, they’re also good cooked, but simply . . . very simply.

This is an old New Orleans recipe that has nothing to do with grilling or barbecuing. Its name comes from the spicy, slightly smoky flavor the shrimp gain while being cooked with Worcestershire sauce and lots of black pepper. It’s a fine and almost absurdly fast dish—once the shrimp are peeled, you can have it on the table in ten minutes, and that’s no exaggeration with a creamy, rich, savory sauce that completely belies the amount of effort required on your part.

This salad features grilled chicken; a superflavorful dressing based on soy sauce, peanut or sesame butter, and spices; and cucumber for crunch. Make extra dressing and you can serve the chicken on top of a bed of salad greens. Boneless chicken thighs are preferable to breasts, because their flavor and texture are superior, they remain moist during grilling, and they brown perfectly.

The soup draws its main flavors from olive oil, cured meat, and watercress. It gains substance and supporting flavors from the peas and a little onion. The combination is delicious, warming, and celebratory in a rustic way. I like to serve with a bottle of Tabasco or any vinegar hot sauce at the table.

Although clam chowder takes many guises, the best is a simple affair that has as its flavorful essence the juices of the clams themselves. And as long as you begin with fresh clams, these juices are easily extracted and reserved; the minced clam meat becomes a garnish. Hardshell clams, often called littlenecks, cherrystones, or quahogs, are a must for this chowder; cockles, which are smaller, will also work well. Steamers (which have softer shells) will make the chowder sandy. If you like, try finishing the chowder with a little cream for both color and silkiness.

Since it is made everywhere, it may be a stretch to call roast chicken “French”—but not to call it one of the simplest of the world’s great recipes. There are three keys to success: One, pay attention to the technique; it works. Two, start with a good chicken (find a free range or kosher chicken you like and stick with it); without it, the technique is wasted. And three, use butter if at all possible; the difference is profound. You can use this technique or any of the variations with baby chicken (poussin) or Cornish hens.

If you have leftover roast pork, especially from Lechon Asado, this is how to use it. Combined with ham, Swiss cheese, and pickles, it makes the classic grilled sandwich of the Latin Caribbean. Though purists insist on Cuban bread (essentially a fairly soft French loaf), the best I ever had was in San Juan, made on a sweet roll. A definite bastardization but one that demonstrated that almost any kind of bread will do and that this sandwich is great in many guises. Ordinary yellow mustard is the norm for this, but consider Dijon or brown mustard instead. Similarly, bad dill pickles are standard, but if you can lay your hands on some half-sour pickles (or use Lightly Pickled Cucumbers, page 455), the results will be better— if less “authentic.”

Try to use branches of fresh oregano, marjoram, or fennel here; they really make a tremendous difference. The first two are grown by many gardeners, and a good gardener can probably spare some. Bronze—herb—fennel grows wild all over southern California and is easy to find (it’s also grown by some gardeners). Occasionally you can find one of these in a big bunch at a market, too; you’ll need a big bunch to try the grilling option. In any case, choose a fish with a simple bone structure so it can be served and eaten easily. The best for this purpose are sea bass, red snapper, grouper, striped bass, and mackerel. One advantage in using the oven over the grill is that in roasting you can add some peeled, chunked potatoes to the bottom of the roasting pan as well; they’ll finish cooking along with the onions.

Despite its name, this is not a tamale (it’s closer to polenta). It has neither the taste nor the texture of a real tamale, and, strictly speaking, it isn’t even Mexican, unless you remember that Texas is as Mexican as it is American. That being said, tamales are complicated, and this, at the very least, combines the earthy flavors of corn and pork. It’s a true Tex-Mex dish, dating back at least a century. Serve with rice and beans.

A simple and basic artichoke recipe that may well become your default method. The acidity of the white wine keeps the artichokes nice and green and also contrasts nicely but not too jarringly with their mild flavor. Other vegetables you can prepare this way: Not all vegetables take to white wine, but many do, especially those with a little sweetness. Think carrots, beets, sweet potatoes, and winter squash.