The challenge of trying new recipes is ever present, new cookbooks to read, alluring photos that inspire me, food blogs teeming with irresistible delights. But there are some dishes I go back to again and again. And when I make them, I do not change a thing. My orange and pecan wild rice pilaf is one such dish. I really, truly follow the recipe exactly, which is not true of most of the cooking I do, where improvisation and inspiration rule.

This rice pilaf is pretty close to perfect, a buttery, nutty blend of basmati and wild rice dotted with some caramelized vegetables and the crunch of toasted pecans. I accent these elements with fresh orange zest which trumpets out a bright, cheerful essence, and sprinkle in a good dose of fresh herbs for colour and green goodness. Dried cranberries make an appearance too, cooking into tart softness along with the long-simmering wild rice. There are some standard trusty combinations at play here, contributing to the overall success of the dish: wild rice and pecans. Sage and wild rice. Orange and cranberries. Celery and onions. Cranberries and wild rice. Altogether, this dish sings out with graceful flavour and homey comfort, a perfect way to compliment grilled or roasted main courses.

This pilaf looks so striking on a plate, I like to lay it out in a thin layer over most of a plate's surface and lay a hot, juicy skewer of grilled chicken and vegetables over it. A few lightly dressed micro greens on the plate is all you need for a well-rounded meal. The rice speaks to me of summer barbeques and fall's cornucopia of produce, winter's need for warmth and spring's good cheer. Simply put, it is wonderful any time at all, one of those simple/special dishes that is easy to prepare but extraordinary when eaten.

Wild Rice With Orange and Pecans

3 tbsp. butter, divided; 1 medium sweet onion, chopped; 2 cloves garlic, minced; 1 cup wild rice; 1/2 cup dried cranberries; 2 cups hot chicken broth; 1/2 tsp. each salt, pepper, dried thyme and sage; 1 bay leaf; 1/2 cup diced celery; 1/2 cup diced red pepper; 1/2 cup chopped pecans; grated zest from 2 oranges; 1/2 cup chopped parsley; 1 cup raw white or brown rice.

Cook raw white or brown rice your usual way. Set aside.

In a medium saucepan, melt 1+1/2 tbsp. of the butter over medium heat. Add onions and garlic and cook for about 5 minutes or until soft. In a sieve, rinse wild rice under cold water, drain well and stir into onion mixture. Toast rice in the pan for a few minutes and then stir in broth, salt, pepper, thyme, sage, bay leaf and dried cranberries. Bring to a boil, cover, reduce heat and simmer for about 60 minutes or until rice is tender and liquid has been absorbed. It is OK if the rice remains moist but should not be very wet.

Meanwhile, melt remaining 1+1/2 tbsp. butter in a skillet over medium heat. Cook celery, red pepper, pecans and zest for about 5 minutes until very fragrant and toasty looking, stirring often.

Combine cooked celery and pepper mixture with both the cooked wild and white or brown rice. Stir in parsley. Serves 4 - 6 people.

Keep those fragrant rice dishes coming all year round:

Sometimes we need some inspiration in the kitchen. Sometimes inspiration comes in a jar. This melange of hot, sweet, smokey spice will perk up your game in the kitchen in many ways, infusing meats with its peppery power, saturating marinades with full-bodied flavour, lifting vegetables to new heights with a simple sprinkle. Everything you wish for in a spice rub resides in this mix, undertones of garlic and onion, the pure pleasure of salt, a variety of peppers to titilate the taste buds. There is smoked paprika for depth, mustard powder for bite, thyme and basil for sweetness, cayenne for heat. This recipe yields about two and half cups, enough for gifting, plenty for you. Stored in an airtight container in a cool, dry place, it will keep for many months.

Ted Reader is known as the "King of the Q" and he knows a thing or two about fire and flavour. Unabashedly bold in the kitchen, his recipes are marked by a generosity of spirit and loads of perky personality. I used his Bone Dust rub recipe pretty much as he wrote it, with just a few tweaks to make it my own. Feel free to do your own tweaking, though I would try this close-to-perfect blend as is first. Do not substitute table salt for kosher salt. Kosher salt has a purity of flavour and crumbly texture that makes a big difference in this blend. If you had to choose one way to make food taste better, that one way would be to use kosher salt. Its presence makes both the spices and the food sing.

Bone Dust
adapted from Ted Reader

1/2 cup sweet paprika; 2 tbsp. smoked paprika; 1/4 cup chili powder; 3 tbsp. kosher salt; 2 tbsp. cracked coriander seeds; 2 tbsp. garlic powder; 2 tbsp. onion powder; 1 tsp. turmeric; 2 tbsp. coarsely ground mustard seeds; 2 tbsp. raw or granulated sugar; 1 tbsp. ground black pepper; 1 tbsp. ground pink pepper; 1 tbsp. dried basil; 1 tbsp. dried thyme; 1 tbsp. ground cumin; 1 tbsp. cayenne pepper.

If you are grinding your own spices for this mix, take care to not overprocess them and turn crackly, crumbly texture into powder. It is nice to have some larger bits in your seasoning, little jolts of one of the peppers, the crystals of raw sugar and the lively flakes of kosher salt. The dried herbs are also nice when flecked throughout your blend and not pulverized to homogeneity. So, carefully grind your spices one at a time so that you can control how much they are processsed. Then, simply combine all your spices, mix them up well and store in a jar in a cool, dry place.

Bone Dust, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. . . . . 1) Sprinkled on scrambled eggs 2) whisked into a vinaigrette 3) smeared on steak before grilling 4) rubbed on a raw salmon filet 5) added to soup 6) simmered in a thick, wet stew 7) mixed with some soft goat cheese for a kicked-up spread 8) tossed with chicken wings before roasting 9) in a fragrant bath of tomato sauce destined for spaghetti 10) as a finishing touch to steamed brocolli.

Whatever your inclinations are in the kitchen, Bone Dust is a power house of a condiment to use any which way you like. Once you try your hand at blending your own spice rubs, you and your nose can go on a sensory journey creating many more interesting combinations. Ted Reader offers us a panoply of options: Mediterranean-Style Rub scented with herbs and the sweet fragrance of ground fennel seeds, Indonesian Cinnamon Rub with the added warmth of allspice and cloves, a Tandoori Rub that includes cardamom and coriander seeds and a Cajun Rub spiked with hot mustard powder, cayenne and sweet paprika. When inspiration hits and you feel like playing the flavour card, let these Ted Reader books guide you:

In my low tech practice of the culinary arts, mastering a lattice pie crust ranks pretty close to an apex of achievement for me. So, I am mightly proud of this autumn fruit pie that I assembled with an assortment of market produce: nectarines and plums, apples and strawberries, cherries and the last stalks of my garden rhubarb. Smelling divine and looking pretty stellar, this pie caps off a vegetable-centric dinner of pasta with homemade fresh tomato sauce, sauteed garlic-scented Swiss chard from my garden and a golden, crisp oven-roasted cauliflower spiked with grated parmesan cheese. But it is the pie that drew gasps of appreciation, the buttery crust topped with crunchy crystals of raw sugar and the filling holding itself together with thick fruit. I enjoy the casual creativity that spawns a pie like this, searching my fridge drawers for stray apples, strawberries and stone fruit, using what I have, turning a mis-matched collection into a cohesive dessert.

Now that I have witnessed the marvel of a multi-fruit pie, I realize that it is precisely the hodge-podge that accounts for this success. Sometimes an all-apple pie comes out too dry, the sliced apples never really melding into a soft, dense filling, the loose pieces falling hither and thither as you cut your slices. I don't know about you, but I like my pies to retain a wedge-like cohesiveness when cut. No loose juice for me, spilling all over the crisp crust and allowing sogginess to prevail. This is the other main pitfall of pie making, a filling that is too wet and doesn't hold together. Those juicy peaches just leeched too much liquid, or you didn't assess the amount of starchy binder correctly. We have all been there and don't really want to see the re-run. In truth, a recipe will not rescue you. No one other than you, in the moment, can assess how juicy your fruit is, how sweet it tastes and whether the binder you are using is adequate. My advise is this: if you want your fruit pie to hold together, use your senses and follow these guidelines:

• Use a mixture of fruit to allow for some juice, some texture, some softness, some sweetness, some tartness, lots of colour and contrast. Some of the fruit will soften into a paste, perfect for binding the fruit mixture together. Some morsels will remain whole and distinct, a good thing in a pie where mush is not quite the look you are going for, where distinct morsels of fruit suspended in some softness are a better goal.
• Add sugar to taste. Recipes are mere suggestions. There is such a wide spectrum of sweetness in fruits. Only you, with your particular fruit, can know how much sugar to add. Sometimes it is hard to know what a mixture will taste like once it breaks down and cooks in your oven. The allure of pies lies in this mystery. Taste the unbaked fruit mixture, guess and wait and see! This doesn't sound like much of a tip, but it's the truth. There is always an element of sweet surprise when you cut into a pie.
• How much binder do you need? I use flour in my fruit pie fillings, so this is what I will speak about. You will think this odd, but I keep adding flour until I feel that the fruit has an almost gluey feel to it. I know this sounds strange, but it really works. I do not measure, but if I did, I wouldn't be surprised if I used almost a cup of flour in my fillings. Mind you, I make gigantic 10-inch pies piled high with fruit, at least 8 cups worth of chopped apples, peaches, plums, berries, pears, etc. Remember that the more flour you use, the more sugar you may need to add to counterbalance it. Stir in the flour so that it disappears and taste the fruit to see if it is still sweet enough, after your flour is in. As you stir in your flour you will start to see the starch thickening the juices in your bowl. I cannot give you a more precise instruction than this. I distrust pie recipes for this reason. You must use your senses to adjust the sugar and flour in your filling. Don't be afraid to keep adding flour if the fruit is really wet and not starting to feel dense. I have never read about this method anywhere, but my pie successes are undeniable. The fruit holds together as if in a magic suspension, solid yet not sludgey, no gluey, sticky stuff to speak of, just a nice, clean wedge of fragrant, moist fruit when you cut the pie.
• Start with a double crust pie, and graduate to a lattice design once you are comfortable with the whole pie-making idea.

I WILL give you a recipe for my butter/cream cheese crust, delicious enough to win fans on its own merits, plus it bakes up golden, crisp and flakey. Make the crust first so that it can chill and rest while you prepare your pie filling.

Cream Cheese Crust:

1/2 pound unsalted butter, cut into pieces; 1/2 pound light cream cheese, cut into pieces, 2 cups all-purpose flour; 2 tbsp. sugar.

In a food processor, pulse butter, cream cheese, flour and sugar until you have small pea-sized pieces of butter. Continue to process just until the dough clumps around the blades or holds together when pinched with your fingers. Carefully remove the dough from the processor bowl, form it into two balls, one slightly larger than the other, and wrap them well in plastic wrap. Refrigerate while you prepare the fruit for the filling. Makes enough for a large double-crusted 10-inch pie.

Fruit filling for a 10-inch pie:

2 tbsp. plain, fine breadcrumbs, to sprinkle over the dough; 8 cups of mixed fruit, cut into bite sized morsels; 3/4 cup granulated sugar or more if needed; 1/2 cup flour or more if needed; grated zest of 1 lemon; 1 tsp. ground cinnamon. Combine fruit, sugar, flour, zest and cinnamon. Taste for sweetness and add more sugar if necessary. If the mixture starts to look weepy and wet, add in flour by the spoonful. You should have a mass of chopped fruit that feels a little bit "gluey", but not too much so.

To assemble your pie:

The larger disc of dough is for the bottom crust. Unwrap it. On a floured surface, roll your dough into a 12" circle, about 1/8" thick. Fold it in half and then fold again into quarters. Gently lift this folded crust into a buttered 10-inch pie pan, placing the point of dough directly in the centre. Unfold your dough and gently fit it into the pan. Leave the dough hanging over the edge. Prick the dough all over with the tines of a fork and sprinkle the breadcrumbs over it to help absorb some of the liquid from the fruit.

Arrange your fruit mixture evenly in the pie plate, mounding the centre a bit higher. Compact the mixture by tapping on the fruit with the back of a spoon. On a floured surface, roll out the other disc of dough for your top crust, roughly 11" in diameter and 1/8" thick. Fold it in half and then in quarters and lay it over the fruit, with the point in the centre. Unfold the dough and trim the edges of the top and bottom crusts if needed so that they are matched up, overhanging the edges of the pan slightly. Pinch the top and bottom crusts together and fold them upwards to seal. You may press them together with the tines of a fork or pinch into a crimped design. Cut two or three slits in the top crust. Brush with milk or cream and sprinkle with raw sugar to create a sparkly, crunchy crackle effect on the top of your crust.

To Bake Your Pie:

Bake the pie in the lower part of a 375 F oven for about 50 minutes or until the crust is deeply golden and the filling can be seen bubbling through the slits. Let cool to room temperature before serving. If you must cut into the pie before then, the filling may be a little bit loose.

Don't be shy about making pie! It's a bit of a project, admittedly, but well worth it. If sweet, fresh fruit and a crisp, buttery crust are pleasure points for you, you will be amply rewarded.

With the season's frost settling on the ground this crisp morning, I pulled out my cozy arsenal of autumn spices and whipped up these gorgeous cookies, filling the kitchen with warm aromas. I am that quick to adapt to the cooler weather. Why wait? It's never a bad idea having moist, crackled gingersnap cookies on hand.

I am of the mind that more is better here when it comes to spice. And fresh ginger adds a big kick to an already punchy cookie, a bright, peppery, deep essence. Lots of cinnamon is used along with cloves, allspice and cardamom, and even a jolt of espresso powder, a melange with personality that will leave your tongue practically singing. Partner these with strong, fragrant tea and a tart apple and you have yourself a mid-afternoon snack to remember.

In truth, these cookies have served me well other times of the year, such as summer time, besides a scoop of good vanilla bean ice cream and a bowl of raspberries. I enjoy these on a dark winter morning with a steaming cup of coffee and a banana. Some would say a glass of milk makes the perfect partner. Any time is the right time for a great cookie. Whether destined for a party platter to share with friends or for solo munching in your kitchen, reading the newspaper, this is a cookie to keep in your tool kit and pull out all year round.

There are many gingersnap cookie recipes out there. I have tried and tasted MANY of them. This is the one I love the most, a kicked up and slightly modified version of the old stand-by from Joy of Cooking. Why does it work? Butter. Demererra sugar, with its rich flavour and dark butterscotchy feel. Lots of spice. Some whole wheat flour for old-fashioned wholesomeness and a hint of wheat. Molasses for chewiness and flavour with deep resonance. A roll in some granulated sugar, resulting in glistening crystals and a pleasing crunch. And careful baking, paying attention to not overbake these beauties, leaving them with a crisp outer shell that yields to a moist interior. With the signature crackles one comes to expect in a gingersnap, I offer you the best one I have ever met. Oh, you may have noticed from my photo that my cookies are huge, a handful of sugar and spice. I used an ice cream scoop to form tennis ball sized rounds which I then rolled in granulated sugar and flattened slightly with the palm of my hand. These larger cookies may need a minute or two longer in the oven.

Gingersnaps Recipe adapted from the 1974 Edition of The Joy of Cooking

3/4 cup butter, softened; 2 cups granulated sugar; 2 eggs, beaten; 1/2 cup molasses; 2 teaspoons white vinegar or fresh lemon juice; 2+3/4 cups all-purpose flour; 1 cup whole wheat flour; 1+1/2 teaspoons baking soda; 2 teaspoons ground ginger; 1 tbsp. fresh grated ginger; 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon; 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves; 1/2 tsp. ground cardamom; 1 tsp. instant espresso powder (optional).

Pre-heat your oven to 325 degrees F. Cream butter and sugar until creamy and smooth. Add eggs, one at a time, and mix until blended. Mix in molasses and vinegar or lemon juice and blend well. In a separate bowl, combine flours, baking soda, gingers, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom and espresso powder if using. Stir well and add to wet ingredients. Mix just until the flour mixture is well incorporated and you have a cohesive dough. For cookies that are perfectly round, chill dough for at least 2 hours or overnight.

Form dough into 3/4 inch balls. Roll each ball in granulated sugar and place 2" apart on a greased cookie sheet or cookie sheet lined with parchment paper. Flatten cookies slightly with the palm of your hand. Bake for about 12 minutes, until the edges are set and the top is crackled. For giant cookies, form dough into 3" balls, roll in sugar, flatten and bake for about 15 minutes. Do not overbake if you like some chew to your gingersnap.

Makes a big batch of small cookies or about 10 large 4-inch cookies.

Indulge in the joy of baking cookies:

There are beets in my garden and still some tender stalks of fragrant chives. . . . . . do you see where I am going with this?

Beets are bulging from the soil in my vegetable patch, their rounded shoulders signalling that it is harvest time. And, my market is well stocked with golden, striped and ruby varieties. I take my cue well. It is time for this salad.

For the beetiest of beet experiences, roast your beets instead of boiling them. Top and tail them and scrub them of debris and dirt. Try to find beets of the same size for roasting, so they are ready at the same time. Place the beets in a roasting pan with a few sprinkles of sea salt and a little splash of water and cover them snugly with a piece of aluminum foil. Roast in a 400 F oven for about 45 minutes or until a knife slips easily into the fat center of the beet. Larger beets will need more roasting time and smaller ones will need less.

Once your beets are soft and tender, take them from the oven and let them cool. Peel them when cooled and cut them into 1/2-inch dice. The compatibility of beets and nuts has been well tested and this is the approach I endorse. I have much enjoyed the pairing of walnuts and beets, but hazelnuts are even more luscious and interesting, significantly aromatic and with a toasty, rich flavour. Hazelnut oil in the salad dressing means a double dose of the good stuff.

Hazelnut Lemon Vinaigrette:

2 tbsp. hazelnut oil; 2 tbsp. extra virgin olive oil; juice and grated zest of one or two lemons, to taste; 1 tsp. Dijon mustard; 1-2 tbsp. runny honey, to taste (lavendar honey is particularly fabulous); salt and pepper to taste. Combine all ingredients until emulsified. Can be made ahead and stored in the fridge.

Take note that I have written the vinaigrette recipe with a range of proportions, so that you may create the dressing of your dreams according to your own preferences. I like a lot of lemon juice in a marinated salad; you may want your beet salad less acidic. I also like some sweetness to accentuate the natural sugars in the beets, so honey is my sweetener of choice, balancing the tartness of the lemon juice. You may choose differently.

Hazelnut Beet Salad:

Toss your roasted, peeled, diced beets with some or all of the hazelnut lemon vinaigrette. Adjust seasoning to suit your palate. Toast some hazelnuts until golden and fragrant. Remove them from the oven and wrap them in a clean dish towel until cool. Rub the nuts around inside the folded towel until most of the skins come off. Take the skinned nuts and chop them medium fine. Add a generous handful to your marinating beets. Fresh herbs are a very good idea as a finishing flourish to this salad. Mint is lovely with beets and if you still have some surviving chives in your garden, their gentle onion flavour performs beautifully alongside the sweet mellowness of the beets. Italian parsley is always worth considering for its good looks and fresh, grassy notes.

Marinated beet salad keeps very well for the better part of a week, refrigerated. Serve it with garlicy roast chicken, grilled salmon, or, taking centre stage, on a platter with some crumbled goat cheese scattered hither and thither over it.

Don't let beets give you the cold shoulder. Give them some love this season with support from these books: