Growing up, I didn’t eat a lot of seafood—so indulging in it always feels special. This pot pie is double crusted and made on a sheet pan, so the bottom crust has no problem getting crispy despite the creamy, rich filling inside. It’s the perfect meal to help you grieve the loss of summer: somewhere between the buttery lobster rolls you can have near the beach and the warm, comforting meals you love to make come fall.

The original Le Cordon Bleu recipe called for tomato concasse on top, but since I don’t always love chopped tomatoes in the simple elegance of an Alfredo sauce, I don’t often add them. I do, however, love tomatoes in my pasta when they are paired with bacon and shrimp. It’s really a dreamy combination of decadent flavors and textures. So, when I’m feeling indulgent, my favourite variation of this recipe is to add sautéed bacon tomato shrimp—and enjoy it next to a big glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

I was very surprised the first time I ran across Loup de Mer at the fish store. They had it labeled as Bronzino which is the Italian name, well one of them the Italians have different names for this fish according to what part of the country you are in. This fish has several names but the way they are marketing it now is Mediterranean or European Seabass. No matter what they call it it is a wonderful fish. It is a fish that needs little adornment, in fact if you were to ask Marcella Hazan she would inform you to simply poach it and serve it with mayonnaise. I can say I have to agree and especially the part about the mayonnaise.

Sometimes I prepare it with root vegetables, other times, I add more chopped tomatoes to make the soup resemble a classic bouillabaisse. The recipe can be halved, if desired.

"Cataplana" is the word for both the dish and the spherical pot it's cooked and served in. This pork and seafood stew is found in the Algarve, in Portugal. You don't need a cataplana to make this; a Dutch oven or large pot with a tight-fitting lid does the trick (though it may not be quite the same).

Crackling top and bottom, succulent goodness in the center: that’s our seafood paella. We do it Catalan-style, adding both sofrito and picada for a more robust flavor. The former brings the earthy sweetness of caramelized tomatoes, onions, and garlic; the latter delivers the fresh bite of parsley in a saffron-scented olive oil. Lobster stock deepens the from-the-sea juiciness of cuttlefish, squid, mussels, clams, and cod. A lot of our diners tell us it’s the best paella they’ve ever had anywhere in the world. Follow this simple formula and you’ll hear the same when you serve it at home.

You can put XO sauce on just about anything, from noodles to scrambled eggs, but I decided to try it on traditional shrimp and grits and was astounded by how well it all works together. The creamy grits are a perfect counterbalance to the umami-rich XO sauce. You can use traditional cream to make the grits, but I chose coconut milk to keep the dish from being too heavy—plus, it was another nod in the Asian direction.

"Risotto is the kind of food you make for people you love." My ex said that to me once, referring to how long it takes to stir it, how no one would ever set aside all that time just for themselves and a plate of risotto. I disagreed. Maybe it's because I'm an egoist and love myself. More, I appreciate the calmness of having to stand there by the stove, watching the shallot and butter–slicked rice soak up ladleful by ladleful of Better Than Bouillon stock. Then the way the pesto simultaneously dyes it a glorious green and loosens it all'onda (meaning it ripples like a wave). Stirring my soon-to-be dinner for 18 minutes straight is my own way of practicing mindfulness, how I like to be, as they say, with myself.

This weeknight dinner for one is inspired by an incredible garlic shrimp I had at a Chinese restaurant in Hawaii. When roasted at high heat in a quarter sheet pan like this, marinated shrimp cooks up gorgeously and begins to caramelize in its own juices, creating a sauce that's made even saucier thanks to a last-minute pat of butter and spritz of lemon juice. Though the usual scampi players are present (garlic, lemon, and red pepper flakes), I went with mirin instead of white wine and soy sauce instead of salt, lending it some of that Waikiki palate. I anticipate that many will wish to skip the optional pinch of sugar, but I implore you not to; for me, anyway, this dish didn't fully come together until that one pinch. But to each their own: That is the point of cooking for yourself, isn't it? You can tailor a recipe to your predilections. As for my predilections, I like to eat this straight out of the pan with a bowl of white rice and an ice-cold beer, just as I had it in Hawaii.

While crab cakes may be the calling card of Maryland, shrimp salad is a close second. I can't name a single bridal shower I have attended in Maryland that did not serve shrimp salad. When served as a sandwich it is usually served on white bread with lettuce and tomato. Usually the shrimp are whole, I slice mine in half lengthwise as, I find, it makes a more manageable sandwich

A few months ago I wrote about how I like to poach shrimp (and other fish and shellfish) in olive oil. And I still do! But I also like to cook shrimp using a method I learned from Mark Bittman. He slathers shrimp in a loose green sauce and roasts them at 500 degrees (I do 450). The shrimp emerge, unscathed by the heat -- cooked through quickly enough that they remain delicate and plump, with a juicy snap. Recently, I pared down the recipe even more, giving the shrimp a slick of oil, and lemon and lime zest, showering them with the citrus juices at the table.

"This humble meal is today considered Puerto Rico’s unofficial national dish, and a family favorite for many. Growing up, mofongo was a dish reserved for special occasions and almost always served with “camarones a la criolla,” or Creole shrimp. My version takes my family’s recipe and incorporates a few tricks I’ve picked up along the way growing up in Brooklyn.

Late-night dinners were a usual event growing up in Tokyo. The energy in the city was like no other—similar to New York, it was 24/7. I remember the sweet and savory scents of okonomiyaki and oden perfuming the streets, and the laughter and chatter buzzing from the izakayas. But my favorite of course was going to the local ramen shop. My mother and I would share the miso ramen, gyoza, and fried rice—always served piping hot. The meal comforted me like a warm blanket.

If you're searching for a crowd-friendly Mardi Gras dish or a celebratory spring boil (because, crawfish season), look no further than this seafood boil from recipe developer and content creator Rosalynn Daniels. For a big, bold flavor base, start with Zatarain’s Creole Seasoning, a whole head of garlic, beer, bay leaves, and Zatarain's Concentrated Crawfish, Shrimp & Crab Boil.

You can also make scallion oil ahead of time. Quadruple the recipe below and follow the steps. Let it cool and pour it into a sterile jar; it will keep in the fridge for up to 1 month. Use it anytime to elevate any dish you’re making.

If you time everything right (which might take a few tries to master), you’ll end up with chewy, sauce-infused noodles, soft bits of egg, and crunchy bean sprouts and green onion. You’ll never need another pad Thai recipe again."