American

We sympathize with the purists when it comes to tuna salad sandwiches: the combo of canned tuna, just a little mayo, and just good white bread is an eternal verity. But we have developed this fancier variation that is also delicious. It preserves the tuna flavor, it's not too rich, it's loaded with crunchy vegetables, and it flies out of the store every day.

At Mesa Grill, this barbecue sauce is used as is, or as a base for some more complex sauces. The ancho and pasilla chile powders add Southwestern flavors to the traditional barbecue-sauce ingredients: tomatoes, onions, garlic, sweet molasses, and brown sugar.

The combination of pears and raspberries is a definite palate pleaser. You can use any ripe pears in this recipe; if you use Bartletts, you need not peel them. We jazz up this pandowdy by adding candied ginger to the biscuit dough. The effect is a warm and spicy infusion that makes this rustic dessert a comfort food favorite. When you serve this pandowdy with a scoop of Vanilla Bean Ice Cream on a cold autumn evening, you will have everyone "mmm'ing" and asking for more.

A certain well-known take-out chicken with eleven herbs and spices is not the only Southern fried chicken that is seasoned with a complex blend of herbs and spices; it is just one of many. You can experiment with the combination until you have your own unique blend. If you don't have a couple of the spices on hand, feel free to omit them. When deep-fried, which is the way I prefer to cook this one, the chicken makes great picnic fare because it stays crispy long after it's cold, and the spice and herb seasoning stands up well to other highly seasoned picnic food.

New Englanders find the very idea of tomatoes in clam chowder to be abhorrent; of course, by referring to the aberration as "Manhattan clam chowder" they're overlooking the fact that their own Rhode Islanders also add tomatoes to clam chowder. And let's not forget about the hundreds of ethnic cuisines around the world that combine tomatoes with shellfish in soups and stews. Unlike the New England purists, we just don't find an intrinsic problem with clams and tomatoes. We do find, however, that most Manhattan clam chowder served in restaurants is positively awful: thin, unclammy, often tasting like vegetable soup out of a can with a few canned clams thrown in. Try the following recipe, and you'll see how good this soup can be.

This Christmas cake will make your friends gasp: three white cake layers covered with a light snowfall of flaked coconut. This recipe came from my Great-Aunt Molly, who always used fresh coconut milk in her cake. If I'm feeling unusually energetic, I do the same (see Tip). Otherwise, I substitute coconut cream, which is a lot easier to manage. My cousin Vera Mitchell Garlough used to make this cake with her mother and sister. Vera wrote: "Mama used the standard boiled frosting from her Searchlight Cookbook, 1931 printing. The method called for boiling sugar and water until it made a thread when dripped from a spoon, then adding the very hot syrup very slowly to stiffly beaten egg whites, beating all the time. Then, we did not have the luxury of an electric mixer in our home so sister Barbara and I, while young girls, learned to make this frosting as a team. She poured while I beat, then she beat while I poured—using an old wire whisk. Somehow, it became stiff and always turned out right and we never scalded ourselves with the hot syrup. In later years, when she bought a double boiler, Mama used this standard recipe, which I use today."

As tamales spread across Texas and the rest of the South, they underwent some changes. Easy-to-find cornmeal replaced the Mexican lime-slaked masa and paper squares were often used to roll up the tamales instead of the traditional corn shucks. Anglo tamale-eaters preferred beef to the traditional pork, so beef tamales became common.

When the cranberries in this buckle bake, they split open just enough to absorb the cake batter while retaining a firm outer shell and a slightly tart bite. Half are folded into the batter and half are distributed on top with the Vanilla Crumb, creating a red-jeweled delight. This recipe is great for a holiday breakfast or brunch.

Lots of Tex-Mex restaurants use bottled mole pastes from Mexico such as Doña Maria brand. Tricks of the trade include reconstituting the paste with chicken broth instead of water and boosting the flavor with peanut butter. Here's a simple homemade mole that tastes even better than the bottled paste.

Although legend has it that the red velvet cake originated in the early 1900s at New York City's Waldorf Astoria Hotel, it's been a Southern favorite for as long as I can remember. (A friend of mine recently reported seeing a version of it at a Starbucks in Mississippi.) Years ago, I made an armadillo-shaped red velvet cake for a wedding couple, complete with gray cream cheese icing for the animal's shell and scales. The idea may have come from the popular 1989 movie Steel Magnolias, which featured a red velvet armadillo groom's cake, a popular Southern tradition that continues to this day. The inspiration for my red velvet cupcakes came from my high-school boyfriend's grandmother. My mother was quite ill during those years, so I spent a lot of time with Bob Yarborough's family. His Birmingham, Alabama–born grandmother cooked and baked frequently, and I never forgot her red velvet cake. I wrote the instructions in my high-school recipe notebook and used it as a guide for developing these cupcakes. The mint extract and crushed mint candies add bit of holiday flair, but easily can be left out at other times of the year.

Anyone who's ever had a garden or raided a cornfield knows that when corn is young you can eat it cob and all, and that the cob has as much flavor as the kernels. That flavor remains even when the cob has become inedibly tough, and you can take advantage of it by using it as the base of a corn chowder—a corn stock, if you will. Into that stock can go some starch for bulk, a variety of seasonings from colonial to contemporary, and, finally, the corn kernels. The entire process takes about a half hour, and the result is a thick, satisfying chowder that is best made in late summer.

This is a great marinade for chicken fajitas, fish, or shrimp. I seal everything in a Ziploc bag, place it in the refrigerator, and marinate for 2 to 4 hours, to ensure that the flavor soaks in. Remove from the refrigerator 30 minutes to 1 hour before grilling.

This was my grandfather's recipe, which my mother learned by watching him make it many times. When I asked her how it was done so I could put it in my book, Cherries in Winter: My Family's Recipe for Hope in Hard Times, Mom said, "I don't know—you'll have to watch me!" So I did, and I took notes as she cooked this comforting, economical meal; these loaves served Mom, Dad, my husband Nathan, and me for at least two very satisfying dinners. And because they're cooked on top of the stove in sauce instead of baked in the oven, these meatloaves are always moist and delicious.

Sour-milk cornbread is one of those quintessential foods of the South for which there are hundreds of recipes (and infinite variations). Although we'd never claim to have the "definitive version," Miss Lewis and I worked together on this recipe until we got just what we wanted: an all-cornmeal bread that's light, moist, and rich, full of corn flavor, with the tanginess of sour milk or buttermilk. Like all Southern cornbreads, it has no sugar—that's a Yankee thing. Traditionally, milk that had started to culture was used in cornbread and other baked goods, both for its pleasant sharp taste and for a leavening boost (its acids react with baking soda to generate carbon dioxide). Since modern pasteurized milk doesn't sour nicely—it just goes bad—we use commercial buttermilk here instead. This is a genuine all-purpose cornbread, delicious as a savory bread or even as a dessert, slathered with butter and honey. My mother and grandmother only made this kind of leavened cornbread (which they called "egg bread") for cornbread stuffing, and it does make superb stuffing. It's also delicious in a time-honored Southern snack: cornbread crumbled into a bowl with cold milk or buttermilk poured over. Many Southerners—especially of an older generation—would call that a perfect light supper on a hot summer day, after a big midday meal.

Pat O'Brien's famous French Quarter bar in New Orleans gave birth to this libation, which became so popular that a special glass was created to contain it.

This dish tastes like an entire New England clambake all folded into a luxurious frittata. Budget enough time to bake the potato and to steam the lobster. Though this is a little more work than most brunch dishes, it’s worth the extra time when you really want to pamper some guests, and yourself. Serve with Spicy Zucchini with Mint (page 218).