Lunar New Year

This casserole relies on the complementary flavors and textures of taro and pork belly: one meaty, the other earthy; one chewy, the other tender.

Since Chinese eggplant has fewer seeds, it is noticeably less bitter than its fellow nightshades. This makes it the perfect ensemble player in this cast of heat, ginger, and garlic.

This roll can be filled with whatever you like: beef, pork, or vegetables. The combination in this recipe is my favorite.

Dried red dates, also known as jujubes, contribute an earthy-sweet caramel flavor to this toffee-glazed cake from Pastry Chef Danielle Spencer of Win Son Bakery in Brooklyn. Look for red dates in most Asian groceries or health food stores.

Eggs provide all the protein and fat that a dumpling demands. 

This dumpling combines lamb with delicate green summer squash, which brings a surprising freshness to the filling.

A simple dish of soba noodles tossed with poached chicken, chili oil, soy sauce, and scallions.

The garlic, ginger, and chile sauce that flavors this dish is one of the popular sauces used in Indo-Chinese cuisine.

Pineapple is the main ingredient in this saucy Filipino dish and makes the chicken sweet, tender and tasty.

This panfried version of this classic sweet-and-tangy Chinese-American dish can be cooked in 22 minutes or less.

A whole chicken, poached in a ginger and anise–scented soy broth, is a popular dish served at Chinese New Year celebrations.

A sage-infused vinaigrette and a dash of warming cinnamon take this citrusy dish one step further than most breakfast and brunch fruit salads.

It only takes 22 minutes to make this classic savory noodle dish at home.

This recipe comes from New York chef Deuki Hong's father and has origins in North Korea, the ancestral home of mandu. (Sharing a border with China, it is no coincidence that mandu sounds a lot like the Chinese word for steamed bread, mantou.) Unlike versions stuffed with finely chopped kimchi, Deuki grew up eating mandu with kimchi on the side. The star in this recipe is the very generous quantity of butter, which is mixed in with the pork, garlic and ginger and adds a real-deal richness to each bite. Not typically used in East Asian cooking, butter is a fully Americanized, fully awesome way to rethink the mandu.

This zesty combination makes a lively snack or tasty addition to salads and grain dishes any time of year.

There's a dish in China called "Happy Family," which consists of various ingredients. Growing up, my mother's version of "Happy Family" was stir-fried colorful, seasonal fresh vegetables. She would encourage my brothers and me to eat more of it so we would be in harmony. Fresh vegetables are quickly stir-fried to retain their snap and color for a vibrant presentation. Any leftovers can be served with warm pasta.

I love visiting Buddhist temples in Asia, not for religious reasons but because I enjoy the food served in their restaurants. This recipe was inspired by the fried vegetarian spring rolls I ate at the Shaolin Temple. While I enjoy crispy fried spring rolls, I dislike their high calorie count and the mess from deep-frying them. I found that by brushing a little olive oil on these rolls and broiling them in the oven, they came out just as crispy and delicious.

Just as American children anxiously await their Christmas gifts months in advance, I anxiously awaited this scrumptious cake. Nian-Gao, New Year's cake, is one of the most important holiday dishes in many Asian countries. Eating Nian-Gao during the New Year's celebration is said to bring safety and fortune to the entire family for the coming year, though I now make it for family gatherings throughout the year.

Our bo ssäm was a long time in the making before it showed up on the menu. I'd had an inkling for years it would be a good idea—bo ssäm is a supercommon dish in Korean restaurants, though the ingredients and cooking that go into it are frequently an afterthought. The oysters are usually Gulf oysters from a bucket, the kind that are really only suited to frying; the pork is belly that's been boiled into submission. Almost every time I ate it at a restaurant, I'd think about how much better it would be if all the ingredients were awesome. The first time we made one was for family meal back when we'd just started serving kimchi puree on our oysters at Noodle Bar. One of the new cooks was fucking up oysters left and right, so I made him shuck a few dozen perfectly, and then we ate them ssäm-style: wrapped up in lettuce with rice, kimchi, and some shredded pork shoulder that was otherwise destined for the ramen bowl. (The shoulder in our bo ssäm is, essentially, the same shoulder we put in the soup at Noodle Bar, except that we add more sugar in the last step to make the crust even more delicious—it's like a shoulder encrusted in pig candy.) So there, in the cramped, dark subterranean kitchen of Noodle Bar, I ate the best bo ssäm of my life. I think that experience and our take on the bo ssäm are typical of the way we approach "traditional" dishes: with one foot rooted in tradition and the other foot kicking it forward. There is a great line from Emerson that sums up my perspective perfectly: "Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries when they wrote these books."

Buddha's Delight is traditionally served on the first day of Chinese New Year, a practice stemming from an old Buddhist custom of spiritual cleansing. In fact, the recipe's Cantonese name is simply jai, meaning "vegetarian food." Some ingredients, such as lily buds and bean thread noodles, may require a special trip to a Chinese market.

Around the Chinese New Year, Chinatown bakeries fill up with tins of butter cookies, waiting to be given as gifts to relatives. Of course, they're still sold and eaten year-round, and once you have just one of these bite-size cookies, it's hard to stop. They're a tad less sweet than American cookies, but their rich butteriness makes them irresistible.