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Learning to cook octopus properly is important because it can become a bit rubbery if not prepared correctly. This recipe teaches a great technique. The richness of the aged balsamic vinegar, the brightness of the peach, and the peppery bite of arugula come together in a harmonious way that celebrates all of the flavors, especially the octopus.

One mention of a food that interests us, and we're off. Our friend Luisa, who writes a food blog called The Wednesday Chef, spent a good part of her summer in Italy, with her family there. Clearly feeling nostalgic for her time there, Luisa spent weeks trying to replicate her grandmother's focaccia bread. The photographs of her last, successful attempt left us both a little dazed. We wanted some. Of course, we had to change it quite a bit, since hers contained gluten. I was shocked to find that most authentic Italian focaccia breads contain a potato. But it makes sense. Boil the potato and then put it through the ricer and you have a light-as-air starch. Focaccia breads are lighter than other breads. The egg white, beaten to stiff peaks, adds lightness here too, like a soufflé. Try this bread with rosemary or oregano. It's a little taste of Italy, right in your kitchen.

These large yellow blossoms are the flowers that form on the fruit of the zucchini plant. They have a beautiful color, a delicate texture and a slight peppery taste. Filled with a creamy mixture of sweet crabmeat, they are steamed and then dressed with a creamy mustard butter sauce.

The technique: It's ridiculously simple: Cut the potatoes into wedges, toss with olive oil and ground cumin, then roast.
The payoff: The ideal ratio of crisp to creamy, since there's more surface area exposed in the oven when the sweet potatoes are cut into wedges.

This tropical twist on the French classic moules marinières serves up briny mussels in a tangy coconut broth enhanced by ginger and lemongrass. You'll find the pretty green stalks of fresh lemongrass in the produce section of many fine supermarkets and specialty-food shops, alongside the brown knobby fresh ginger rhizomes, or roots. Both aromatics need to be peeled before using, and both have dense, stringy flesh that can be difficult to mince. Grating is a good solution for ginger; include the juices that are extruded when you scrape. For lemongrass, peel and use only the tender midsection of the slender, bulblike stalk. Smash it with the flat side of a chef's knife to make mincing easier.
Increase your dining pleasure by sipping, as an accompaniment, any bright, fresh white wine that offers good acidity. Think sparkling wine, unoaked Chardonnay, Pinot Grigio, or Sauvignon Blanc.

This thick soup has a texture almost like porridge.

Celery leaves (which are left over from the celery used in the soup) are great in the dumplings.

The spices that are added to the shrimp cooking liquid were inspired by Cajun crawfish boils.

To make the sourdough croutons, toss 3 1/2 cups 1-inch cubes crustless sourdough bread with 2 tablespoons olive oil. Spread the bread cubes on a heavy-duty rimmed baking sheet and bake at 400°F for 20 to 25 minutes.

When you're an American in Paris, there's nothing more flattering than to have French people ask you to share your recipe for one of their national treasures. Of all the things I make for my French friends, this is the one that gets the most requests. The easiest way to describe gougères is to call them cheese puffs. Their dough, pâte àchoux, is the same one you'd use for sweet cream puffs or profiteroles, but when the pâte àchoux is destined to become gougères, you fold in a fair amount of grated cheese. In France, I use Gruyère, Comté, Emmenthal, or, just for fun and a spot of color, Mimolette, Gouda's French cousin; in America, I reach for extra-sharp cheddar, and sometimes I add a little smoked cheese to the mix. Gougères are made everywhere in France (and can be bought frozen in many stores), but their home is Burgundy, where they are the first thing you get when you sit down in almost any restaurant. In Burgundy, gougères are often served with the local aperitif, kir; chez Greenspan, where I serve them no matter what I'm pouring as a welcoming glass, my favorite sip-along is Champagne. I love the way Champagne's toastiness and gougères' egginess play together. Although you must spoon out the puffs as soon as the dough is made, the little puffs can be frozen and then baked straight from the freezer, putting them in the realm of the doable even on the spur of the moment.

Every Passover, my maternal grandfather, Irving, made beet horseradish from scratch. He was a gardener with a true green thumb when it came to tomatoes, but I can't remember if he grew his own horseradish. What I do remember is how teary-eyed everyone got when he served my grandmother's homemade gefilte fish with his beet horseradish on the side. Through the sniffles, we all expressed delight and assured him that this batch was the hottest and best yet. Horseradish is one of those flavors I have always loved. For all you other horseradish lovers out there, here's a fabulous dip. Use extra-hot prepared horseradish to guarantee those sniffles and teary eyes.

Fresh crab meat is so rich, fabulous, and sweet that, for this dip, I wanted to highlight the texture and flavor of the crab without masking it. Served bubbly hot with a crisply browned, lemon zest–panko topping, this dip will be a party favorite—easy to put together, quick to bake, and quick to disappear, too.

The addition of 1/2 cup miniature marshmallows is popular with children.