Poultry

My introduction to skate took place when I was a child, during a summer spent on Cape Cod, where, with my older brother and sister, I ran into a fisherman. He was an old salt, his arms deeply tanned and wrinkled from the sun, his beard scraggly and speckled with dried seawater. We asked what he had been catching. "Skate," he replied. Not familiar with the fish, we inquired further and he told us, "In New England we call skate poor man’s scallops." He explained that "back in the day," people on the cape would cut out rounds of the meat as a substitute for scallops because the species shared a common sweetness. What he didn’t tell us is that skate is notoriously difficult to work with when whole. I learned that lesson the hard way and, at the same time, realized the true value of the fish. In the fall of 1999 I had a lot of free time on my hands. Annisa wasn't open yet and I was just learning the art of angling. Jen and I had driven all the way from Manhattan to Shinnecock Canal on Long Island because we heard that striper fishing was particularly good there. After a few hours, and a rough time of it, I landed my skate. I am by no means squeamish, but this fish broke me. None of my extensive culinary training prepared me for what followed. It was the skate that would not die. It took hours; multiple gashes in the head; a three-and-a-half-hour airless trunk ride from Long Island back home to Manhattan, and a drag-out struggle on the cutting board. We gave up the good fight and decided to let the skate die while we watched TV in the next room. Since that traumatic experience, I have not personally killed another skate, but it’s often on the menu at annisa. It is robust and, yes, sweet-flavored, but to call it "poor man’s scallop" is inaccurate and doesn’t do justice to the distinct character of the fish.

This is the best fried chicken, ever. There I said it. If it's not, then I want to try yours. I started paying attention to fried chicken in a serious way when I began work on the book Ad Hoc At Home. Ad Hoc is Thomas Keller's Napa Valley restaurant devoted to family meals. It offers one family meal each night, and everyone eats it. The fried chicken is so popular that it is served twice a week. Chefs Jeff Cerciello and Dave Cruz have tried all kinds of methods, mainly centering on the best crust. They decided that the trio of flour, buttermilk, and flour is best, and I agree. But the key here is the brine. Salt keeps the chicken juicy and seasoned, and also helps pull the rosemary deep into the flesh. So even after the rapture from eating the crust has passed, the flavor of the chicken holds you. This brine, like all brines flavored with aromatics, is best when you bring the ingredients to a simmer in all the water. But if you're like me, sometimes you'll be caught short and need to hurry things along. If you have a scale, you can bring half the water to a simmer with the other brine ingredients, let the aromatics steep for 20 minutes. Measure the remaining water as ice and pour the brine over the ice. Or simply combine the brine with cold water. Because so few people make fried chicken at home, I like to serve it to friends. Happily, it's a great do-head dish; the chicken will keep well for a couple of hours. You can fry it and then keep it on a rack in a 250°F/120°C/gas 1/2 oven until you need it. If you have a convection oven, use that feature to keep the crust crisp. The thighs will become delectably tender given the extra time in the low heat. Serve on a platter garnished with branches of deep-fried rosemary and grated lemon zest.

Chef Todd Aarons of Tierra Sur at Herzog Wine Cellars in Oxnard, California, shared this recipe as part of a Hanukkah cocktail party menu he created exclusively for Epicurious. Make the pâté just before serving—it's a very quick recipe to put together—as this dish has the most flavor and the best texture when it's warm and fresh from the broiler.

I love Cornish hens: baked or smoked, but also deep-fried. To me they're like smaller turkeys, so they're perfect for entertaining smaller groups or just your family. If you can't find them at your butcher counter, check the frozen-meat section—just be sure to let them thaw out completely. Because of their small size, you can use an electric fryer instead of the larger turkey contraptions for deep-frying them (another bonus). Deep-fried, they've got a golden crust and a juicy, juicy tenderness. If you're short on fridge space, divide the marinade between two or three large zip-top bags, and divide the Cornish hens among them. Press the air out and seal tight; then you can fit them into a smaller space. Now, Shelbi and Gina might share a hen, so for light eaters just split one bird down the middle. But a heavy eater like me will eat a whole hen. I've been anticipating it all day!

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

Unlock the cure for the common roast turkey with New York City chef Heather Carlucci-Rodriguez's ingenious techniques: First, toast and grind whole spices to coax out their essential oils. Next, marinate the turkey with the spices and yogurt in an oven roasting bag overnight. Then roast the turkey in the bag to lock in flavors and keep the meat ultra juicy. You'll have plenty of richly spiced gravy to pass around the table.

"Brining the turkey overnight keeps it moist and seasons the interior of the meat," says Lo. "The ingredients, except the cider, are classic 'red-cooking' flavorings used in Chinese cooking to braise and glaze meats like pork or duck." Tent the turkey—especially the wings—with foil if it darkens too quickly while roasting.

This easy-to-cook bird shows off the traditional flavors of the holiday; it's one of our favorites.

Plan at least one day ahead to let the turkey—seasoned with the homemade Cajun Spice Mix—cure overnight.

Talk about a lean bean! Adding about 1/2 cup of filling high-fiber chickpeas to your daily diet can cut your consumption of fatty foods, a study in the journal Appetite finds.

Piquant Dijon mustard and a little cayenne pepper put the diable in these crisp pan-fried chicken breasts.

If you’re only going to make one pot pie from scratch in your life, this is the recipe to use.

Francis Butler grew up on the family ranch and continues to preside over the dry, windy land. The lonesomeness of ranch life, she says, was offset by "group cooks" such as the annual Thanksgiving tamale making: "Wild turkey hunting has been a West Texas sport for as long as anybody remembers, and tamale-stuffed turkey may have been an early tip of the hat to the Mexican ranch hands who've been around for at least as long as the turkey. This recipe dates back to the early 1900s. I got it from a family whose grandmother was German but had been raised in Mexico. I make it most often in the cold months, but I've been known to put a tamale-stuffed turkey in the roasting pit in my time, as well. You can use commercial tamales, of course, but I like the two-day ritual of making tamales and then making the turkey. I always double or triple the tamales and freeze the extra. These days people use more barnyard turkey than they do wild. Before you go thinking that's a sorry thing, let me tell you this. You feed your chickens or turkey some chile peppers before you decide. That spicy sweet flavor gets into the meat and you know what they mean when they say it doesn't get any better." This stuffing is also delicious in chicken and squab. Serve with high-quality corn chips, salsa, and sour cream.

Thanksgiving is hands-down my favorite holiday. Bar Americain is open each year for Thanksgiving, and we typically serve about six hundred people before the day is over. No matter how many wonderful selections we offer on the abbreviated holiday menu, without fail turkey is the biggest seller—partly because people love it and partly, I think, out of a sense of tradition. This is the turkey that I serve at Bar Americain, with only the dressing and sides changing from year to year. This year I am pairing the all-American bird with all-American ingredients: wild mushrooms and Pinot Noir from the Pacific Northwest, figs from California, cranberries from Maine, bacon from Kentucky, and sweet potatoes from Georgia.

"I love this meal. It's delicious, healthy and easy for me to prepare. There's not chef in my house!"

Capers give these burgers zing—and cancer protection, too: They help prevent the formation of carcinogens that can occur when meat gets charred.

A bit of blue cheese in each patty ups the chicken's savoriness without adding much fat or calories.

"Talk to most chefs and they'll say they'd want a perfectly roasted chicken for their last meal," says Sean Brock. For his definitive version, Brock starts with superflavorful heritage-breed chickens, but the key to the dish is prepoaching the bird in an immersion circulator. Because most home cooks don't have access to this equipment, we adapted the recipe to work in a home kitchen.