If you’re wondering how I ever came up with the idea to put pesto on potatoes, it’s like those old ads for you-know-what, where a guy walking the street eating a chocolate bar bumps into a girl with an open jar of peanut butter: a complete accident, but what an outcome! I was staring into the refrigerator as fingerling potatoes were coming out of the oven, and what should my eyes chance upon but a container of the pesto. Normally I’d use the pesto with pasta, but as I  discovered that night, it’s also wonderful with potatoes. 

When my brother Jeff moved to California, he fell in love with avocados. In fact, he became so enamored with this luscious fruit that he began pestering me to create “avotatoes”—an avocado mashed potato recipe—for this book. I’d do almost anything for him, but there are some places a sister just can’t go. Still, I wanted to feature avocado because I love them too—for their flavor and texture, and for their incredible anti aging properties. While they do contain a fair amount of fat, it’s monounsaturated—the kind the body thrives on (in moderation, of course), and they’re a great source of the antioxidant glutathione.

These potato pancakes, unlike the typical holiday fare, are a light delight! Sweet potato, zucchini, onion, egg and spices cooked with just a little olive oil make them especially nourishing, and they reheat beautifully. Shred the basil just before adding it to retain its bright green color. Here’s a convenient way to shred it: Stack the basil leaves, roll them into a cigar shape, and snip it with scissors or cut thin slices with a sharp chef’s knife.

Visual appeal is a vital though often ignored aspect of good digestion, as a mouthwatering response to the food on your plate prompts greater production of saliva, which helps break down food from the moment it hits your tongue. When I’m teaching, I like to use quinoa to underscore the importance of appearances. After an unenthusiastic glance at a bowl of cooked plain quinoa, the response is usually “Doesn’t look like much. Kinda tan.” Then we go to work on it, studding the quinoa with tiny green lentils and a blast of color from cucumbers, tomatoes, parsley, and mint that gets people excited about this dish. It looks like an edible painting by the time we’re done. Now that’s my idea of art. 

Here’s an example of equal parts observation and inspiration. I went over my friend Wendy’s house because she was testing an apple crumble recipe. I was tasting it, and started dipping my bites into a slowly burbling pot of raspberry sauce and going nuts over the sauce. Wendy silently noted what was going on, and after I left she tried the combination and had her own “aha!” moment. As she pondered how nicely their flavors—tart opposite sweet—tangoed together, she eventually came up with this recipe. It’s a veritable health factory: raspberries help with everything from keeping skin elastic to fighting inflammation, walnuts are high in omega-3s, and apples have pectin for soothing the tummy. Call it serendipity or just a keen eye, but either way this is a sweet bite that was meant to be.

Classic slaws usually aren’t much to get excited about. Between their homely appearance and goopy consistency, they tend to resemble Spackle. But that’s not the case here. This slaw is a feast for the eyes and palate. If Pixar ever created a recipe, this just might be it.

My first internship when I got out of culinary school was in the kitchen at the Chopra Center for Wellbeing, where they had an entire wall filled with dozens and dozens of spices. I swear that wall looked like a piece of art—in the form of a jigsaw puzzle that I had to figure out. The way you knew you had earned your stripes in the kitchen was when the executive chef finally let you make their famous dahl. Wouldn’t you know, the very first time I made it, an honest-to-goodness Indian saint had come to visit. There are rules regarding saints, and at mealtime, the first and foremost is that no one can try the dahl before she does. I must have done something right, because she tasted, smiled, and kissed me gently on the forehead. I treasure that memory, and also appreciate the experience of making that dahl because it taught me that spices—which have phenomenal healing properties—can be the heart of a dish, rather than an add-on to enhance flavor. Here, the blending of spices is what really gives this dish its power, both nutritionally and on the palate. 

I thought I’d experienced olives every which way possible until a dinner party years ago, when I watched as Carolyn Brady, an incredible artist, popped a bunch of olives in the oven and roasted them. It seemed so exotic, and the results were incredible. The brininess was replaced by a sweet flavor heightened by the oven’s heat. In my version, I’ve surrounded the olives with garlic, fennel seeds, rosemary, red pepper flakes, and Meyer lemon. You’re not going to find anything like this at a supermarket olive bar. 

Butternut squash is the utility infielder of vegetables; wherever you place it on the culinary diamond, it does a great job. Stuffed in ravioli, as part of a risotto, roasted with herbs--it’s far more versatile than its tubby exterior suggests. In this soup, it’s blended with coconut milk to create a sensual, buttery texture that carries a phenomenal spice blend that delights the tastes and delivers superior nutrition. The cinnamon and turmeric help regulate blood sugar, have anti-inflammatory properties, and help fight cancer, while cumin boosts immunity and energy.

If you believe, as I do, that ancient ingredients have generally stood the test of time because they possess elements important for well-being, let me introduce you to chives, which have been used in recipes for about five thousand years. I’m so partial to chives that I grow them in my garden for both their wonderful flavor and the beautiful purple flowers the plant produces They’re members of the genus Allium, making them cousins to onions, garlic, shallots, and leeks. The sulfur in chives is believed to help the liver detoxify the body, but you won’t taste any of that sulfur in this drizzle. Instead, their volatile oils impart an almost sweet onion fragrance. This oil adds a bright, fresh-green pop to soups, salads, and fish. As for whether it also imparts the wisdom of the ancients, well, there’s only one way to find out.

Ah, the great divide. One on side, greens. On the other side, you. The chasm seems as wide as the Grand Canyon. It’s a gulf desperately in need of a bridge, especially for dark leafy greens—kale, chard, collards—which are arguably the greatest longevity foods out there, exploding with disease-fighting phytochemicals. And yet, these jade nutritional behemoths can be incredibly intimidating to work with. Where to start? I suggest thinking of greens as the perfect foundation for a variety of flavorprints. The only way you’re going to eat greens regularly is if they fly you around the world. Good thing they have their pilot’s license! By working with different spices and herbs, greens become like a local tourist guide to a host of cuisines. These dishes reach across the globe: Latin America, the Mediterranean, India, and the Orient . . . they are as versatile as a Renaissance man at a cocktail party. Learn to work with them and I promise that great divide will exist no more.

At restaurants, my dad didn’t see a set line where the salad bar ended and the soup bar began. He’d stride up, bowl in hand, and ladle away to his heart’s content. Other folks may have looked on aghast, but my dad was a real culinary alchemist; he knew which ingredients played well together. This soup pays homage to his wizardry.

As a cook, you never stop learning. I was doing a cooking demo one day in a tiny town in West Marin across from Toby’s Feed Barn. As I was prepping and peeling the squash, an extremely seasoned farmer with a weathered face came up to me. He was the kind of guy who normally wouldn’t talk even if he were on fire. But what I was doing truly had him flummoxed. He looked at my peeler, smacked his lips in thought, and said, “Y’know, you don’t have to peel ’em.” He might as well have said it’s okay to drive naked. I told him I’d been peeling them forever. “Nooooo,” he moaned, at what was obviously food blasphemy in his book. “The skin is good—tender. Stop peeling!” It turns out he was right: the skin does indeed taste fine, and once it’s cooked, it isn’t tough. Squash has excellent anti-inflammatory and immune-boosting nutrients, along with a huge kick of vitamin A. In this incarnation, it also has wonderful sweetness, thanks to the roasting and the addition of orange zest and maple syrup.

Like Penn and Teller, opposites often attract—and create magic. So it is here. At first glance, Swiss chard and butternut squash appear to be poles apart, yet they melt into each others arms in a way that enraptures the senses. The sweetness of roasted butternut squash is the perfect foil for chard’s tartness, and cranberries and orange zest do a similar tango to heighten the appeal. Visually, the tart is a stunner; topped with walnuts and studded with cranberries and feta, it looks like a still life waiting for the right artiste to saunter by. Chard is also a longevity superstar, full of antioxidants and boasting phytonutrients linked to blood sugar regulation, heart health, and improved detoxification. Note that you’ll need a 9-inch tart pan with a removable bottom for this recipe.

Corn has gotten a bad rap lately, and that’s a shame. It’s true that adulterated versions, from high-fructose corn syrup to corn oil, are downright unhealthy. But freshly shucked corn is amazingly rich in phytonutrients, and in flavor. Believe me, I know good corn. There used to be huge cornfields within walking distance of my childhood home. I vividly remember coming home with a bushel of summer corn, planting myself outside our back door, and ripping away the husks with glee. Flash forward just a wee bit and now I have my Gen Y kitchen angels Jen and Katie out on my back porch, sipping lemonade and giggling over how they’re knee-deep in husks. In this soup, shaved corncobs make for an outrageous broth, and the whazzed-up kernels create a richness that lets the honey-like flavor linger on the tongue like a slow sunset. If you could put summer in a pot, this would be it.

Roasting strawberries reminds me of Carly Simon’s song “Anticipation.” When you can take your time in the kitchen—or at least wait awhile for something to cook—magic happens. When you roast strawberries sloooooowly—I’m talking for 90 minutes—the alchemy that occurs is wondrous. Their flavors become so condensed and intense as they shrink. In this recipe, the strawberries are bathed in pomegranate molasses and maple syrup before roasting, for even more flavor. The last step, post-roast, is a mouth-blast of basil (a super anti-inflammatory).

This dressing lends a light, refreshing flavor to all manner of foods. Since it could hardly be easier to make, I recommend keeping some on hand at all times. I know I do.

Conquering this recipe reminded me of Charlie Brown’s travails with Lucy and that football. There would be Lucy, pleading with Charlie to take one more shot at kicking the football and promising she wasn’t going to mess with him anymore—and always pulling away the ball at the last moment. The Brussels sprouts in this recipe played Lucy to my Charlie. They teased me with their offerings of wellness—especially a compound shown to keep DNA from fragmenting during cell reproduction—but they kept refusing to play nice with every taste companion I threw their way. I was about to walk away for good when an email arrived from a friend who knew about my frustrations. She sent along a picture of a beautiful Brussels sprout stalk in her garden, with the small sprouts dotting the stalk, along with a caption that said, “Please give us another chance! We’ll be good!’ So I said, “Okay. One. Last. Chance.” And whaddya know? I finally achieved success. Roasting was the key, creating a golden-brown, sweet-tasting, crunchy treat.