Tomato

There's marrow in those bones! Scoop out the cooked marrow and whisk it into the braising liquid, or eat it on a crust of bread with salt. You earned it.

When my wife, Julie, and I got married, we knew there was only one place to go for our honeymoon: Italy. I was excited to take her to Gombitelli, the tiny town in the mountains near Lucca where my dad's side of the family came from. My great-grandparents, Angelo and Olimpia Gemignani, had left Gombitelli for America at the turn of the last century, and my Grandpa Frank was born right after they got off the boat. We meandered through the Tuscan countryside, following increasingly sketchy gravel roads and finally ending up on a narrow donkey trail that wound up the side of a steep mountain. I remembered this road from a visit I'd made seven years earlier. Since then, it seemed to have eroded and gotten even narrower. It was barely wide enough for a car, with a sheer drop along one side and, naturally, no guardrail. We came to a dead end, the front of the car facing a deep ravine, and an old man came out of his house, waving violently and screaming at us in Italian. I rolled down the window and said "Gemignani?" His expression changed from rage to joy as he motioned to follow him and raced off, back down the road, yelling "Gemignani! Gemignani!" I made the most terrifying U-turn of my life and followed him. The minute I saw the little house and farm, I had the same overwhelming feeling I'd had the first time I'd been there. It was like stepping into my grandpa's farm in California. Although he'd never even been to Italy, he had the blood of a Tuscan contadino—and there in front of me was his backyard in every detail: the same flowers, the lemon tree, the dogwood, the fava beans, the big wine jugs wrapped in straw, the rusty tools scattered around. That California farm and my grandpa are long gone, but in that moment, I was home again. My cousins had decided there was one thing they absolutely had to serve us for our welcome meal: pizza, of course. And this is the one they made. It was quite thin, almost like a toasted flatbread, and I've replicated that in this recipe by rolling the dough out and docking it, so you get a light, crisp crust that's just right with the gutsy puttanesca-style combination of crushed tomatoes, olives, garlic, and anchovies.

I rarely rave about my own recipes, but this is one I can just go on and on about. It is the definition of freshness with its sweet-and-sour late-summer flavors, and it is also an utter delight to look at. But the most incredible thing about it is that it uses a few ingredients that I have been lovingly cooking with for many years, and believed I knew everything there was to know about, yet had never thought of mixing them in such a way. That is, until I traveled to Istanbul and came across a similar combination of fresh tomatoes and pomegranate seeds in a famous local kebab restaurant called Hamdi, right by the Spice Bazaar. It was a proper light-bulb moment when I realized how the two types of sweetness-the sharp, almost bitter sweetness of pomegranate and the savory, sunny sweetness of tomato-can complement each other so gloriously. I use four types of tomato here to make the salad more interesting visually and in flavor. You can easily use fewer, just as long as they are ripe and sweet.

Easy enough for a weeknight, but special enough for a dinner party.

This old-school, rectangular pizza bakes right in a sheet tray. The flavorful, doughy crust is thicker than the more standard thin-crusted Neapolitan-style pies.

Use a very sharp cheddar to make this—it's the difference between pimiento cheese and cheesy mayonnaise.

The thinly sliced zucchini ribbons replace pasta in this delicious, low-carb, noodle-less dish. This lasagna totally satisfies my cravings for cheesy and indulgent Italian comfort food. It's perfect in the summer when I have tons of garden-fresh zucchini and herbs, but I also love making it during the colder months when I want something hot and comforting. Although it takes a little longer than most of my recipes, it's totally worth it!

Pasta, lush tomatoes, and a pool of ricotta lend this dish all the flavor of a lasagne—without the heaviness.

Telmo grew up in a Mexican neighborhood in San Jose, California. On warm evenings, he could be found at a busy roadside seafood joint called La Costa spooning up refreshing bites of coctel de camarón, or "shrimp cocktail." Served in a tall Styrofoam cup, the La Costa cocktail combines a sweet (but not cloying), tangy, and spicy tomato-based sauce, briny poached shrimp, avocado, cucumber, and pico de gallo, all topped with some shakes of a salsa picante and served with tostadas or saltine crackers. Our version is made with roasted fresh tomatoes instead of the traditional ketchup to brighten it up. The resulting sauce is more like a gazpacho than the typical country club-style cocktail sauce. The cocktail can be assembled a couple of hours ahead of time, but not too far in advance, as the shrimp becomes rubbery if left in the lime juice for too long. To make this shrimp cocktail into easy party fare, spoon it onto small store-bought tostadas, garnish with a little cilantro, and serve.

You can use any firm fish and fresh shellfish you like for this brothy stew. (A little crabmeat is a luxurious addition, as well.) Make the base a day in advance for a low-stress Christmas dinner.

The best thing about making ranch from scratch? If you like a more garlicky or more herby ranch, the choice is yours to adjust the recipe accordingly.

Think of this as a carbonara, but with tomatoes in place of the eggs.

David Chang's buttermilk dressing is our kind of ranch. Use the freshest beans possible: You want that tender snap.

Let colorful, sweet heirloom tomatoes shine in a simple side salad.

If you don't happen to have eight ramekins, you can assemble the sauce and eggs in a single baking dish and increase the baking time if needed.

The key to this sauce is a creamy emulsion of the oil, cheese, and pasta water. Toss and stir—and stir and toss—adding liquid freely, until it comes together.

Use very ripe—even overripe—tomatoes; they'll give up even more juice.

You can also make this dish with littleneck or cherrystone clams instead of mussels.