Joe Yonan

Like curry, za'atar is a spice blend that varies from cook to cook in the Middle East, its birthplace. My father was Assyrian, so I've always enjoyed the flavors of the region (though the closest I've yet traveled is Turkey). This is my interpretation, and it reflects my priorities: my favorite part of za'atar is the tart sumac, so it's particularly heavy in my version. And while some cooks grind their spices together, I like to leave the sesame seeds whole. You can find sumac in Middle Eastern groceries and from online sources such as Penzeys and Kalustyan's. For a perfect, quick snack, combine with olive oil and brush on pita.

You know the Juicy Lucy, right? It's a cheese-stuffed burger that was born in Minneapolis in the 1950s, and legend has it that it got its name when the first patron took a bite and exclaimed, "That's one juicy lucy!" Well, my friend Erin Meister, who blogs as The Nervous Cook, sent me her take on it: a marinated portobello mushroom cap stuffed with a runny-yolk egg. A total umami bomb and, like the Juicy Lucy, a mess to eat. But when you're cooking for yourself who cares if you have egg on your face? Erin marinates the mushroom in a miso-vinegar mixture, but since I usually have Sesame Miso Vinaigrette on hand, it's perfect to use here, too. If you don't have it, substitute 1 tablespoon of white miso in 3 tablespoons of rice vinegar. If you don't have a grill, don't sweat it; you won't get the smoky tinge, but this works just fine instead, using a cast-iron skillet or grill pan fitted with a lid (or aluminum foil).

Eggplant can take its time getting tender in the oven, but it's worth it, especially for preparations like this, where za'atar, with its earthy flavor, and sweet-tart pomegranate molasses turn things toward the Middle East. You can find both in Middle Eastern markets; za'atar can be had at good spice stores such as Penzeys. Or substitute 1 teaspoon of dried thyme or oregano, a squeeze of lemon, and 1 teaspoon of sesame seeds.

Like the best dressings, this is good on so much more than greens: Drizzle it on roasted sweet potatoes, brush it onto broiled eggplant, or toss it with cold soba or udon noodles. Use it to marinate mushrooms before grilling them to makeJuicy Bella. Look for miso paste in the refrigerated section of natural food stores and Asian markets. If you can find South River brand, made in Massachusetts, snap it up; it's the best I've tasted outside Japan.

我在Palena,我最喜欢的餐厅里洗ton, at the end of a meal, when the dessert's taste and texture made me gasp. It was a shallow lemon custard, not just silky but crystal clear in its flavor: a blast of just lemon, cream, and sugar in one bite. Pastry chef Aggie Chin explained that it's her take on a posset, a traditional English dessert in which the cream softly sets with nothing but the help of the acid from the lemon juice. I knew I'd try this at home. It makes the perfect topping for the cookie-crumble crust I like to make, and the perfect base for the fruit I like best with lemons: berries. This can be easily doubled when you'd like to make dessert for two nights in a row, or for you and a friend to share.

The addition of avocado makes this cold soup creamier than your average gazpacho, and the greens make it, well, greener, and with jalapeño included, too, it's got a serious kick that makes it anything but traditional. It probably goes without saying, but if you serve this to Spaniards, either don't call it gazpacho or be prepared for some arguments at the table.

Ask my Catalan friend Pep and my Catalan-wannabe friend Ted which of the three of us makes the best paella, and prepare to hear much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Then you'll hear many excuses about exactly how and why I, neither having the privilege of a) growing up in Spain (Pep) nor b) having written a newspaper story about paella after interviewing the Spanish cooking authority Penelope Casas (Ted), managed to mop the floor with both of them in a paella cook-off when I lived in Boston several years ago. What can I say? The crowd was the judge, and the choice was clear. Of course, paella is a renowned dish for groups: In Spain, cooks will put a gargantuan paella pan over a huge fire to feed dozens. But with the right pan (I love my trusty steel crepe pan), it's easy enough to make for one, too.

Puff pastry is a boon for the solo cook. You can keep it frozen, then defrost and cut off enough for just one serving, refreezing the rest. I’ve been known to make my own puff pastry, but Dufour makes such high-quality, all-butter dough that I rarely get my hands dirty with the homemade stuff anymore. (It’s available in many parts of the country, but is not as widely available as puff pastry by Pepperidge Farm, which I like less because it uses shortening.) Now in the middle of winter, when the memory of fresh cherries and other pie fruit is a distant memory, I can combine dried cherries, almonds, and Mulled Wine Syrup (page 6) on a simple piece of puff pastry and bake up a tart that seems like the essence of summer.

I used to be reluctant to open a bottle of wine at home unless I was entertaining, because I’d drink a glass or two and then have to contend with the leftover vino. There are various ways to deal with it (see sidebar, page 23), but once I discovered this idea from blogger Michele Humes on SeriousEats.com, it was a problem no more. Even lesser-quality wine becomes a deeply flavored condiment good for drizzling on ice cream, chocolate desserts, or citrus segments. It can be used for layering in a parfait with Greek-style yogurt (see page 161) or for hydrating dried cherries in a tart with almonds (page 163). I tend to use whatever spices strike my fancy at the time; with red wine, I like this particular combination, but whole cinnamon, cloves, and/or allspice, for example, could be used for a more pronounced flavor. The best thing about this syrup? Once you cool it, it can be refrigerated in an airtight container indefinitely.

I love a good corn muffin, and nobody makes one better than Loic Feillet of Panorama Baking in Alexandria, Virginia. The muffin is so good, in fact—moist and studded with chewy little bits of corn—that as soon as I tasted it, I knew I’d incorporate it into an egg dish. The muffin reminded me of an artisanal English muffin, and I just happened to be working on a Mexican variation of eggs Benedict. How perfect! The corn muffin would replace the traditional corn tortilla in huevos rancheros, and I’d poach instead of fry the eggs. Immediately, I had a dish worthy of the muffin, but best of all, even a lesser muffin tastes great when capped off with these ingredients.

I have to admit that making a vegetarian dinner is liberating. When I don’t include meat, I feel entitled to splurge on other riches, in this case avocado and pumpkin seeds. Nonetheless, these veggie-packed tacos are proof that something can be hearty and healthful at the same time.

When I first visited Portland, Oregon, I left with two regrets: that I didn’t plan on more days (so I could eat more) in that glorious food-obsessed city, and that I didn’t pack an extra duffel for all the edible stuff I wanted to carry back home. On that last point, I limited myself to dried sour cherries and dry-roasted hazelnuts. When I wasn’t scarfing them out of hand, I threw them into dishes, alone but often in combination, proving the validity of the saying, “If it grows together, it goes together.” For this dish, I turned the hazelnuts and dried cherries into a sauce that can be made with Mulled Wine Syrup (page 6) or Pinot Noir (another Oregon specialty) to pour over pan-fried Cornish hen. I like to cook it al mattone, which means “with a brick,” a quick method that results in even cooking, a crisp skin, and moist flesh.