Cheese

Garrett McCord, coauthor with Stephanie Stiavetti of Melt: The Art of Macaroni and Cheese, created this recipe exclusively for Epicurious. A completely traditional take on the ultimate comfort food casserole, we think this is a guaranteed crowd-pleaser. Plus, it's a flexible recipe that can easily be tinkered with to suit your family's mac 'n' cheese preferences. If you really like the crunchy topping, go ahead and add more—use an additional 1/2 cup of panko, an extra 1 1/2 tablespoons of butter, and a slightly larger handful of shredded cheese. Want more assertive cheesiness? Experiment with different Cheddars, including aged versions. And of course, feel free to add your favorite extras like raw or roasted broccoli or cauliflower, or crisp cooked bacon. For more on mac 'n' cheese, including tips from McCord and more mix-in ideas, see Classic Recipes: Macaroni and Cheese.

In defense of Velveeta: Its texture is supreme.

Make this dish ahead of time: It's great at room temperature.

Kabocha squash is made for purées.

Cooking the potatoes on a wire rack lets hot air circulate around them, so they get extra crisp.

Mattos says to get both the walnuts and the breadcrumbs very toasty and dark brown; he loves the contrast between the rich, crunchy bits and the bright, juicy endive on top.

A virtuous, herby grain salad with a heart of indulgent butterfat. We love the white-on-white effect of using barley, but it's delicious with basically any whole grain; try wheat berries or spelt.

Tex-Mex ingredients like Monterey Jack, cilantro, corn and lime combine with rice to create an awesome salad. Wrap it in lettuce for a cool, crunchy and fun meal.

My Mom, Veronica, is pretty much a vegetarian these days. When she invites us over for "meatloaf," this is what we get—and I like it a lot; in fact, even Todd does. The lentils and the brown rice make it hearty while at the same time kind of fluffy and light. My favorite part about it is the fresh tomato sauce, which is almost like a salsa. Checca is a Southern Italian term for this fresh sauce, which is called by different names in different regions. Some of it goes into the lentil loaf and the rest is served alongside.

This is one of those serendipitous, stumbled-upon creations. I had made a big pot of polenta, and I poured the leftovers into a baking dish in a thin layer. The next day, foraging in the fridge for lunch, I came upon the polenta, a little fresh mozzarella, a little Parmesan (or was it Pecorino?). To make a pizza of sorts, I layered on the cheeses, added a splash of oil, crumbled over a handful of dried sage leaves, and put it into a hot oven. The result was completely satisfying. So what if it's not truly a pizza?—though perhaps it has a culinary ancestor somewhere, since there's really nothing new under the sun.

You can have almost no money and still have enough to live off this stuff for weeks, months, years. Eat enough and you'll start to look for ways to make it different: add a little more sauce, a little less sauce, cook the noodles less, cook them more, add more water, less water, add an egg, scramble the egg, etc. Me, I've become a freak when it comes to my instant ramen. Don't fuck wit it, don't fuck wit me, let me do my thing. This is how I do my own thing.

Collards and kale have some chew to them. Use your hands to work the dressing into the leaves until they soften and start to wilt.

With slices of celery root and chefs' new favorite cheese, scamorza, pizza night just got a lot more fun.

This pasta is tasty made with kale, collards, or any greens you have growing in the garden. I will go and cut whatever is ready or use what I brought home from the farmers' market. I like to include something that has a bit of spice, such as broccoli rabe, red mustards, or mature rocket. Many times I will cook more greens than I need and put them in the refrigerator to make a quick pasta another time. (Add the garlic and goat cheese at the time you are going to toss them with the pasta.) This is perfect for those days when dinnertime shows up before you know it.

"Creamy squash and cheese crisps only make you think you're off the diet cliff!" says James Beard award winner Laura Werlin, author of Mac & Cheese, Please! and The All American Cheese and Wine Book.

If you have aged provolone, which can be quite salty, reduce the kosher salt in the recipe to 1 teaspoon.

As with biscotti there is an undeniable American-Italian influence at play here but, once again, I embrace this. Actually, though, American-Italian food has had its own influence on the cooking of the Old Country: these days, I am reliably informed by my Italian publisher and celebrated food writer, Csaba dalla Zorza, you can find dried cranberries with relative ease in Italy. The true Italian Christmas dinner is very much about the capon. Yes, you can find capons outside of Italy, although not everyone can quite cope with the idea of eating a castrated cockerel. Many understandably view old-school caponization with distaste, although it is considered ethically acceptable if the rooster has been chemically rather than surgically castrated. I don't know about you, but the idea of eating meat that has been flooded with the types of hormones necessarily involved here gives me the willies. Besides, my Christmas Dinner is my Christmas Dinner: unchanging, ritualistic, an intrinsic part of me. When in Rome, and all that, but if I'm cooking at home, I don't fiddle with my time-honored menu. I'm not going to give an evangelical tub-thump about my turkey brining techniques, as I've done enough of that in the past, but I am still open to other ways of celebrating the Big Bird and this recipe is a case in point. For me, it is perfect for any sort of seasonal supper party, but really comes into its own on a buffet table, as it carves fantastically and is as good (maybe even better) cold than hot, so you can make it in advance and then be the world's most unharried host on the night. You need to go to a butcher to get a while breast joint and you need to ask for it to be butterflied and boned and make sure the skin is left on. I know it might sound a bit of a faff, but take it from me that stuffing a while double breast joint is very much easier than stuffing and rolling a single breast joint, as is more commonly found in supermarkets. Basically, all you're doing here is opening out your boneless turkey joint, smothering it with stuffing, and folding it over. What you end up with, for all the ease of its creation, is nothing short of a showstopper.

I love how the fruitiness of Cluizel Concepción chocolate, mellowed by a little cream cheese, plays against the caramel and the flowery, slightly musky acidity of the blossoms (actually, calyces) called "Jamaica flowers" in Mexico and red hibiscus in this country. (They are what gives Red Zinger tea its color.) When I first developed this recipe, I used hibiscus to flavor the caramel, but now I include it in a separate sauce where its red color makes a gorgeous contrast with the dark flan. You will find that this flan is reminiscent of the classic cream cheese–fruit paste pairing that Latin Americans like in other contexts. For this recipe, do not use the spice marketed as "cinnamon" in American stores (it's really cassia). Look for the soft, flaky true cinnamon from Ceylon (Sri Lanka), which has a much subtler and more delicate flavor. You can find it in Hispanic markets under the name canela.

Here's another dessert that was inspired by a wine-tasting dinner. It's often hard to come up with a dessert that pairs well with wine, but this savory-sweet dessert does. At its center is a Seckel pear, a small, reddish pear with a slightly spicy flavor. It has a firm flesh that makes it perfect for poaching. In this dessert I poach the pears in pomegranate juice with some ground black pepper. A chunk of Cabrales cheese, a strong blue cheese from northern Spain, is sandwiched between the top and bottom halves of the pear, and a Szechuan Ice Cream is served with it, sitting on a diamond of baked almond cream.