Starter

Find sources for local ground turkey at LocalHarvest.org and conserve fossil fuels that get burned during shipping.

The bite-size sweet red peppers in this recipe are a tasty, low-cal vehicle for delicious cheese; plus, their mild heat can help warm you up from the inside out as the temperature begins to drop.

-Gazpacho can be made ahead and frozen. Defrost in the fridge overnight.
-Mayonnaise is an unusual ingredient, but we like the creaminess it adds to the soup.
-For 2 you will need 4 tomatoes, 1 small cucumber, and 1 small red bell pepper. For 6, you will need 12 tomatoes, 1 cucumber and 1 red pepper.

This traditional Thai-style soup is my personal favorite. I love coconuts, and this soup is all about the coco. I like to use different ages of coconut meat to get varied textures. A more mature nut makes a chunky soup, while a younger one makes a creamy soup. I also like to use a variety of hot peppers: jalapeño, serrano, and even the super-spicy Thai chile, just to get a wide range of spiciness. Some peppers are hot as you eat them, others after you eat them; my favorites are hot only when you stop eating them.

Artichokes have more sodium than most vegetables but should nevertheless be enjoyed from time to time. Choose artichokes that squeak when you squeeze them. This recipe, inspired by Martha Rose Shulman, makes butter dunking sauce unnecessary.

In winter, the section of our cupboard devoted to onions seems to grow exponentially, filled with all forms of eye-dripping lovelies: red and white onions, shallots, massive white-bulbed scallions. Grilling a sack of onions down to a cereal bowl of caramelized noodles is a rare fall pleasure. And few pillars of French cooking are as widely and voraciously loved as scalding hot onion soup cloaked in a blistering layer of melted Gruyère. But like with many epic dishes canonized by the cuisine of rural folk, vegetarians usually remain wholly uninvited. So how does one mitigate the beef stock in every single recipe of the gooiest of soups? Our "ah-ha moment" was beer. After trying small batches of all three colors of the proverbial tricolore (blue, white, and red) we settled on Chimay Blue, a dubbel style beer that's become a household name for boozers. This so-called grande réserve, or any other basic dubbel, is a super substitute for the essence of animal gore. The malts and sugars play on your tongue in a way that's strikingly similar to the flavor of liquefied fat and tendon.

For the softest dough, use a potato ricer or simply mash the potatoes until smooth.

Gravlax, typically made with salmon, gets an aromatic twist with grapefruit zest and crushed green peppercorns. Plan to make this at least 3 days ahead to let the fish cure.

The combination of crisp Asian pear and toasted sesame oil gives this stalwart a modern twist.

Fried capers lend a light, salty crunch to these addictive little bites.

Serve this dish with toasted bread to soak up the juices. To debeard the mussels, grab the beard with a kitchen towel for a better grip.

You'll want to pickle the beets a day ahead.

Slow-roasted cauliflower gives this creamy, elegant soup its incredible depth of flavor.

This one's got it all: bright fall colors and sweet-savory appeal.

These ethereal, savory puffs are easily frozen and reheated. Serve half the yield from this recipe at the party, and save the rest for another time. Feel free to mix and match any semisoft melting cheese such as Gruyère, cheddar, or Fontina with any hard cheese such as Asiago, Parmesan, or Manchego.

For the crispiest results, dry the chickpeas before frying.

To speed up this classic soup without sacrificing its soulful flavor, simply caramelize the onions in a dry nonstick skillet (be sure to use one with a silicone surface designed for use over high heat, not Teflon), and use good-quality beef stock, preferably one that is low in salt.

Braising leeks brings out their buttery texture. Serve them alongside broiled fish or roast chicken.

Highway 84 runs from Santa Fe to Colorado. About forty minutes north of Santa Fe, the highway cuts a paved path through Ohkay Owingeh, a Native American reservation, and the roadside becomes dense with fast-food outlets, outposts of national grocery chains, Walmart, and billboards for Ohkay Casino, Hutch and Norma Naranjo's sprawling midcentury home is set about fifty years back from the road, a shrine to the tug-of-war between new ways and traditional ones. In the backyward Mr. Naranjo built two hornos (behive-shaped adobe ovens). Inside the house, a handmade wreath of dried chiles hangs on one wall and a string of made-for-tourists ceramic peppers on another. A naïve painting of St. Francis hangs not far from a cluster of the dream catchers that the couple and their two grown children fashion from string, feathers, and yarn, just as their Pueblo ancestors did. "We go to church one Sunday and dance the traditional dances the next," said Mrs. Naranjo. A retired social worker, she gives cooking classes and does a little catering. But she spends most of her mornings working the two-acre minifarm where she grows vegetables from seeds that have been passed from one Pueblo generation to another for at least a thousand years. "The history of our people is in those seeds," she says. In the evenings, when her husband builds hornos on the terraces of hotels and McMansions, Mrs. Naranjo visits the elderly women in Ohkay Owingeh, who remember life and cooking when it was closer to the land, and collects their recipes and food stories. "Our history lives in our hands as well," she says. Mrs. Naranjo moves with the efficiency of a modern professional as she smooths cornmeal paste on damp cornhusks. Tiny white kernels from several ears of heirloom corn, and diced green chiles and squash, along with a thick, bloodred chile sauce and shredded fresh cheese, are lined up in small stainless-steel bowls at the head of her tamale assembly line. She notes that tamales were stuffed with rabbit, venison, pork—whatever people had. Vegetable tamales were a fine way to make use of the gardens' overflowing crops. She swathes the dough, sprinkles filling, folds, ties, and places the tamale bundles on a rack set over water in a big enameled pot. From time to time, she glances out the window to the backyard, where her husband is feeding small, dry sticks into this new four-by-four horno. Her smaller tamales are, she says, her only concession to modernity: "People love the little ones as snacks, and Hutch and I love them in these green chile stews we make in the horno."

Here's a quiche recipe that goes wheat free without skimping on flavor. We call for broccoli and Cheddar cheese, but you can trade out the broccoli for asparagus tips or halved cherry tomatoes and the Cheddar for Gruyère, Swiss, or Comté.