Years ago I traveled around the south for a few weeks researching some of the amazing foods of each region. In Charleston, I was introduced to a local pig farmer, Tank Jackson who manages Holy City Hogs. Tank and his wife raise heritage breed pigs and distribute the pigs around the country. He offers on-site cooking whole pig roasts, primal cuts and sausages, and I believe he produces the best pork in the country.

Years ago, while working as a chef in a busy continental restaurant, we featured grilled, fresh swordfish on the menu—finished with a generous spoonful of herbed compound butter and capers. It was popular and delicious. One afternoon, a seafood purveyor stopped by with a sample of frozen swordfish steaks, fully thawed and ready for evaluation. Curious, we grilled it side by side with the “fresh” swordfish we had been serving—fish we believed to be of high quality. The result was surprising. The frozen swordfish was superior—firmer, cleaner in flavor, and more consistent in texture. In contrast, our “fresh” fish, likely several days out of the water, lacked the same integrity. It was a defining moment and an important reminder: in many cases, properly handled and quickly frozen seafood can offer better quality than fish labeled as fresh. For chefs, understanding sourcing and handling is just as critical as technique—especially with a product as prized as swordfish.

The name "caponata" itself has a fascinating origin story. One popular theory suggests it derives from capone, the Sicilian word for mahi-mahi. Historically, wealthy Sicilian aristocrats enjoyed a sweet-and-sour fish dish. Because seafood was too expensive for the working class, local home cooks substituted fish with affordable, meaty eggplant. Over time, this creative peasant food evolved into the beloved antipasto we celebrate today, often rounded out with celery, olives, and capers.

The legendary New York-style cheesecake was famously popularized by Lindy’s Restaurant , an iconic Theater District deli opened in 1921 by German-immigrant Leo "Lindy" Lindemann and his wife Clara . A NY-style cheesecake has a dense but velvety cream cheese base, citrus zest, and a distinct cookie-dough pastry crus t. For years, I took the bus into NYC to work in amazing restaurant kitchens. On one bus ride I met and became friends with a manager at the legendary Lindy’s Restaurant. One day, he did the ultimate honor: he shared the closely guarded, original cheesecake recipe with me. This new recipe is directly inspired by that legendary Lindy’s classic, capturing its iconic velvety richness and signature flavor profile, but re-engineered for a modern, protein-packed lifestyle.  Why This Recipe Delivers High-protein swap : Cottage cheese provides a clean, protein-packed base that replaces heavy fats without sacrificing richness. Silky texture : Blending the batter thoroughly ensures a velvety smooth consistency that rivals any NY-style cake. Savory-approved : Simple, foolproof assembly that requires no pastry-chef precision to get a perfect bake every time.

One of the great pleasures of my career is spending time each year working as a Culinary Educator aboard a cruise ship alongside my wife. She teaches baking & pastry while I focus on savory cooking and culinary techniques. Our travels take us to fascinating ports around the world, providing opportunities to explore local markets and study regional cuisines. I have a particular affection for the Mediterranean and always make it a point to seek out local variations of pesto, one of the world's great culinary treasures. One evening aboard ship, the pasta station served rigatoni with a choice of pesto, marinara, or Alfredo sauce. The cook prepared each order by reheating the pasta in hot water and then finishing it briefly in a sauté pan with the selected sauce. I watched in disbelief as he prepared to heat the pesto exactly the same way. "Horror!" flashed through my mind. Pesto is not a cooked sauce. Heating it aggressively dulls the fresh basil aroma, darkens its vibrant color, and diminishes the delicate flavors of basil, garlic, pine nuts, and extra virgin olive oil that make pesto so special. I may have startled the cook when I quickly called out, "Please don't cook my pesto!" Instead, I asked him to simply toss the hot rigatoni with the pesto off the heat, allowing the warmth of the pasta to gently release the fragrance and flavor of the basil. The result was exactly as pesto was intended to be enjoyed—fresh, vibrant, aromatic, and unmistakably Mediterranean.

As chefs, we spend years mastering sauté work. I remember my early days working the sauté station for lunch in a French restaurant in NYC. We served over one hundred guests in an hour-and the food was excellent — a dozen hot pans on the flat top, stocks simmering, mise en place of freshly chopped herbs, minced shallots, butter for mounting into sauces à la minute. There is rhythm to good sauté cooking. You learn quickly that great sauté work is not about rushing — it is about organization and control .

Our Easter and Christmas meals were feasts... my mother's family all met at Aunt Flora's home in Jersey City to enjoy and celebrate the holidays. Dinner began with platters of fresh mozzarella, roasted peppers, olives, Italian bread, then a pasta course (manicotti or lasagna for the religious holidays), a roast or sausages with plenty of vegetables and traditional Italian desserts with dark coffee.We ate Italian Easter Wheat Pie one day each year—and it was never store-bought. My Aunts brought Easter cookies and baked goods-the wheat pie was my favorite. I loved the slight 'bite' of the wheat and flavors of cinnamon, vanilla and citrus. My father sometimes let me have a sip of his espresso with the dessert. I'm not sure if my mother used lard for the pie crust-she was a fan of butter and Crisco but the crust was always flaky.

There are certain dishes that stay with you—not just for their flavor, but for what they represent. For me, roasting a leg of lamb over Pommes boulangère is one of those meals. I don't recall having lamb at any occasions growing up so this was a dish that I proudly introduced to our family. As a young cook, it was something I could prepare with limited experience, and it provided deeply satisfying results. The lamb roasts in the oven over a bed of potatoes, onions, and garlic, allowing its natural juices and fat to baste the vegetables below. It's actually a simple preparation but becomes a complete, delicious meal—the potatoes absorbing flavor and becoming just as important as the roast itself. These days I'm developing delicious recipes using spice blends such as Ras el hanout, Baharat, Za'atar, Togarashi and even Harissa. I also love roasting leg of lamb outdoors on a grill or rotisserie. I like the subtle smokiness from applewood or dried herbs when I'm roasting lamb outdoors.

There are certain dishes that stay with you—not just for their flavor, but for what they represent. For me, Pommes boulangère is one of those dishes. As a young cook, it was a delicious meal I could prepare for my family with my limited culinary experience. I often return to this preparation when roasting whole chicken, pork, or lamb—letting the potatoes, onions, and garlic absorb the natural juices from the protein as it cooks. The potatoes becomes more than a side dish; it’s the foundation of the meal.

There are countless versions of Potatoes au gratin , many of them heavy with cheese. I prefer a more restrained approach—using little or no cheese—so the flavor of the potatoes remains the focus rather than being masked. Milk produces a lighter, more delicate gratin, while light or heavy cream creates a richer, more structured dish. Both are valid—it simply depends on the desired outcome. One constant, however, is nutmeg. Used sparingly, it acts as a quiet “secret weapon,” adding depth without calling attention to itself. This recipe is inspired by Xavier LeRoux, one of the finest chefs I’ve had the privilege to work with. His method includes an extra step—gently simmering the potatoes in cream before baking—which yields a noticeably superior result. The potatoes begin to release their starch into the cream early, ensuring a more uniform texture and a fully integrated dish from the first bite to the last.

There are plenty of brownie recipes—and then there is the one that lives in memory. This is the only brownie recipe I bake, from Julia Child, whose influence reached far beyond French cuisine and into the home kitchens of passionate bakers like my mother. A devoted admirer, she baked these brownies often—usually for the dessert trolley at my restaurant. We featured a brownie freeze... brownie cubes with homemade vanilla ice cream, warm melted chocolate and freshly whipped cream-amazing! For me, this recipe is more than a classic—it’s a reflection of how great cooking is passed down: through admiration, repetition, and a deep love of craft.