This pot pie really tastes nothing of the Thanksgiving meal, although I assure you you probably have all the makings for it after the main event. I should note also that you really could tuck any number of things into this pie. Have some brussels sprouts that Aunt Judy made? What about those roasted green beans I see way back in the corner of the fridge? Those would do nicely under a buttery blanket. I’ve started with the very basics of a Leftover Turkey Pot Pie, but you should feel free to add to it whatever happens to be lurking in your fridge after the holiday.

My secret to flavorful gravy is starting with a base of bacon. Put a few slices in a pan and let it render low and slow until the bacon is crispy, the fat has all melted out, and those toasty, tasty clumps start to gather at the bottom of the pan. (Bonus: You’ve got yourself some crispy bacon for tomorrow’s sandwich...or right now's snack.) Briny tamari gives this gravy that special oomph of flavor that turkey drippings would normally add. Not to mention, a few splashes make your gravy the perfect shade of brown.

This is a variation on a classic northern Italian dish, vitello tonnato, which is normally made with rare roast veal. If you've never had it, it seems like an unusual pairing, tuna and veal. But, oh, does it work. And the same goes for turkey. I first had this after my first Tuscan wine harvest when the winemaker's wife, Marisa, made it for us. She said she got it from the Silver Spoon cookbook, but I've never found it exactly the way she made it and she definitely didn't use any recipes to cook with. It's just the thing for serving at a party or to a large table of friends and family—it's ideal, too, for a buffet style dinner, as this is delicious cold or warm and it's an easy dish for people to help themselves to. I now like to add anchovies to the sauce and a couple of hard boiled eggs for extra creaminess and richness—in my opinion a better option than mayonnaise, but there is that too.

Roast spatchcocked turkey cooks faster and more evenly, delivering juicy meat and crispy skin. Flattened for better heat distribution, it’s perfect for a flavorful, golden-brown centerpiece with herbs, garlic, and your favorite seasonings.

This hearty pie is great on its own and a wonderful way to use up leftover turkey, but it's even better as part of the epic Three-Tier Thanksgiving Dinner Pie! Read more about the three-tier pie below.

Spatchcocked braise-roasted turkey with herb butter combines juicy, tender meat with crispy, golden skin. Flattened for even cooking, it's first braised for moisture, then roasted to perfection, infused with a rich herb butter for deep, savory flavor.

For all sorts of reasons, you might want to knock out the turkey early this year—the oven’s on the fritz, or too many sides or pies will be hogging it, or maybe you just like to get ahead so you can kick back come Thursday. The recipe looks long, but it requires more organization than active time, and the smart techniques give you super-juicy white meat and a rich gravy hefty with bits of dark meat. It's a good time to grab a loved one in the kitchen to help you keep it all straight, and have more fun cooking it together.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I slow-bake an 18 to 20–pound turkey| New Window at 325°F in my huge graniteware pan. The turkey is cooked with the steam that builds up in the pan, and then basted and finished on high heat to crisp and brown the skin. The meat is tender and juicy and very tasty. I don't load the compound butter with lots of garlic and herbs, just enough to flavor the turkey very delicately.

This dry-brined turkey recipe won a taste test with staff of the L.A. Times Food Section in 2006 and Russ Parsons, the then food editor at the paper, wrote about it many Thanksgivings since. The technique is inspired by chef Judy Rodgers, who dry-brines the famous roast chicken (and just about everything else) at Zuni Café in San Francisco, but never a turkey. Parsons decided to try it and found that, not only does it work—it also comes out perfectly juicy and crisp, with none of the sponginess that you sometimes get with wet-brined birds.

Sometimes it doesn't make sense to roast a whole turkey when you have a very small gathering. Whether for Thanksgiving, a special occasion or even just a lovely weeknight meal, this entree will fit the bill. Koshering the turkey before preparing it boosts the sometimes lackluster flavor of turkey. I do this whether I am making cutlets, or a Thanksgiving roast. Serve this sImple yet elegant turkey dish, with rice or a potato side (like Tiny Truffled Hasselback Potatoes) and the compliments are sure to follow.

My mom's tomato soup meatballs are the only recipe my family makes religiously every Thanksgiving—they're tangy, lightly sweet, have a solid kick (thanks to the ginger), and more tender than any turkey meatballs you've every met thanks to (you guessed it) the tomato soup.

If you have a large amount of leftovers that you need to put a dent in, why not start with breakfast?!

If you're looking for a virtuous turkey burger, you've opened the wrong recipe. This recipe is inspired by the bacon turkey burger served at Foster Burger in Portland, OR, and it is chock full of bacon. The bacon adds its umami goodness, but doesn't take center stage. Lightly caramelized onions, Swiss cheese, butter lettuce, and a smokey, piquant sauce help to make this burger devilishly good.

This salad is exactly what you'll want to eat (and cook) the day after Thanksgiving—and includes a smart hack for quicker roasted garlic, too.

To make Kafka's Giblet Gravy to go with the bird, see here| New Window. Barbara Kafka’s high heat-roasting technique ruffled feathers in the 1990s (500 degrees! No rack, no trussing, no basting!)—until everyone realized it gives you crackly-skinned turkey in no time at all. There's no salt, which isn’t a typo. The bird is so juicy you won’t miss it. Some notes from Kafka: "Many Thanksgivings at my house have proved the high-heat method to be ideal. A fifteen-pound turkey at room temperature takes two hours to roast. However, it may take several hours for the turkey to reach room temperature. While the turkey is sitting out, cover it loosely with a towel, otherwise the skin will dry out.

This sloppy joe is native to New Jersey, where the term—elsewhere reserved for tomato saucy ground meat on a bun—means something different entirely. Here, it is a cold, triple-decker, rye bread sandwich, stacked high with meat, cheese, cabbage slaw, and so much Russian dressing. I like turkey and Swiss, but feel free to sub in your favorites, from roast beef with cheddar to ham with provolone.