Winter

A roast turkey glazed with a buttery cider syrup is burnished outside and juicy within. You'll have more than enough gravy to ladle over the stuffing, the smashed potatoes, and tomorrow's leftovers.

Instead of oyster dressing or scalloped oysters, try an ethereal bread-crumb pudding packed with plump, perfectly cooked bivalves. Their brininess helps to cut the richness of the custard.

When earthy greens are tossed with a walnut- and garlic-scented oil and lots of crunchy nuts, they taste delightfully new.

A towering dessert on the holiday sideboard always gets attention. And the oohs and aahs will only get louder when you cut in to reveal its moist crumb dotted with ruby-red cranberries and topaz-colored pear. Its scent of vanilla and spices is very inviting, while the brown sugar and cinnamon glaze is, of course, the icing on the cake.

The Portuguese soup caldo verde is ideal cool weather comfort food. It is full of good-for-you greens and potatoes, while sausage keeps things porky and satisfying.

When it comes to the Thanksgiving centerpiece, most people aren't looking for a lot of bells and whistles—they simply crave a big, juicy bird with golden skin. This recipe delivers. Cream gives the gravy, which is equally straightforward to prepare, a velvety lushness that your guests won't soon forget.

Store-bought sauerkraut undergoes an amazing transformation when gently simmered with apples and white wine. The cabbage's crispness gives way to a seductive silkiness, while the fruit and a spoonful or two of brown sugar offset its acidity.

Swapping rye for the usual white bread adds something intriguing to stuffing. There's still that wonderful contrast between the crisp, browned bread on the top and the soft pieces moistened with stock or broth below, but there is an undercurrent of warm, almost spicy sweetness. As with all stuffings, the better the bread you use, the better the final dish will be, so buy a good bakery loaf.

We had lots of apple trees of many varieties in our orchards, and the supply would last for the whole winter. Mostly I had them for a snack or in a dessert, but here's one use in a main course that's a winner. It's incredibly easy yet nutritionally complete. I rather love mixing the sweet carb with the fat and protein in delicious defiance of current diet ideology.

A trifle is not only one of the most elegant desserts around, it's also one of the most exuberant—which is why it is tempting to toss aside decorum and dive right into the bowl. The nontraditional version here is sturdy, made with robust gingerbread and mellow pumpkin mousse instead of the classic spongecake and custard.

A jumble of fruit and nuts cascading over tender frangipane creates quite a picture, and there is flavor to match. Although frangipane sounds fancy, it's a breeze to whiz up in a food processor—simply grind the almonds and sugar, then add the flour, butter, and eggs. The oven's heat concentrates the grapes' sweetness and perfume, and dusting the hot tart with confectioners sugar bestows a subtle shine.

When we visited my grandmother in snowy Alsace, she used to serve us this delicious and filling breakfast, rich in fiber and fruity nutrients. It is still one of my favorite winter breakfasts: true baby food for adults. My grandmother usually served her oatmeal variation with freshly baked brioche or kugelhopf (a wonderful cake with raisins and almonds that is one of the great specialties of Alsace). Today, I sometimes find it a filling meal unto itself, and I skip the bread. If I want a little more protein, I have a bite of cheese or some yogurt.

A rich filling is studded with walnuts and imbued with citrusy notes of orange, then packaged between a crust and a lattice top, both made from the cookie-like pastry dough known as pasta frolla in Italy.

Have you ever visited the marketplace of Jerusalem and noticed small wooden imprinted molds with handles? To be sure, the merchant is hard put to explain their significance. They are ma'amoul molds. Ma'amoul means "filled" in Arabic, and these molds make filled cookies eaten by Jews and Arabs throughout the Middle East, especially in Syria, Lebanon, and Egypt. A piece of short-pastry dough the size of a walnut is pressed into the crevices of the ma'amoul mold. A tablespoon of date or nut filling is inserted, and you close the pastry with your fingers. Holding the handle of the wooden mold, you slam it on the table, letting the enclosed dough fall out. On the top of the cookie is a lovely design. After baking and rolling in confectioners' sugar, the design stands out even more. Of course, the ma'amoul mold is not necessary to the preparation of these sweets, though it certainly adds to their beauty. The tines of a fork, tweezers with a serrated edge, or a tool of your own devising will do quite well. The following ma'amoul recipe came from Aleppo to the Syrian Jewish community on Ocean Parkway, Brooklyn. These cookies are served at Purim. A similar cookie, called karabij here (nataife in Syria), topped with marshmallow fluff, is also served at Purim. Arasibajweh—rolled cookies from the same dough and stuffed with dates—are served at the New Year or Hanukkah.

If you like regular pecan pie made with corn syrup, wait until you taste old-fashioned pecan pie made with cane syrup—the difference is astonishing!

If it makes sense sometimes to eat breakfast for dinner, why not breakfast for dessert? These pancakes are perfect for the fall, when apples are in season and gingerbread spices are on the mind. My apple of choice is the Golden Delicious because when cooked, it becomes honeyed and intense, but you can use any apple that holds its shape. Don't try this with McIntosh; they disintegrate into mush.

When layered with tender, brandy-spiked pears and a fluffy maple-flavored frosting, spice cake sheds its old-fashioned modesty, becoming impressive enough for any Thanksgiving sideboard. While it will surely satisfy the cake fans at your holiday gathering, it just might tempt a few diehard pie lovers, as well.

Green beans and Brussels sprouts might seem like the Abbott and Costello of the vegetable world—lanky and straight versus roly-poly—but like so many odd couples, they go together beautifully. The key is to sautéthe vegetables so that they still have a little bite.

This fall soup is like putting on the first sweater of the season: it just feels so good. Although the soup takes several steps—roasting the squash and pears (which can be done a day ahead of time), cooking them, and finally pureeing the soup—none involve much from you. It's an easily made soup that will keep well for days—a great possibility for a holiday meal.