Thanksgiving

The only way to improve our very best stuffing recipe? Add breakfast sausage.

Deeply charred with a buttery honey glaze that’s spiked with vinegar and chile flakes.

Giovanna Huyke, the island's leading culinary voice, shares its unique Turkey Day traditions.

Bourbon-caramel apple, marshmallow-butterscotch, cranberry meringue, and more reasons to save room for dessert.

Like an herby chickpea tachin, almond-pear cake, and plenty of fresh ideas to round out your feast.

A peppery dry brine, tangy soy-orange glaze, and clever method for roasting turkey in parts.

Like caramel layer cake and a colossal bowl of chocolate mousse.

Go high-low with fresh green beans, deeply browned mushrooms, Parmesan béchamel, and plenty of store-bought fried onions.

Our never-fail turkey is excellent in every way that other turkeys often fall short. Period.

Eight holiday favorites, plus a plan to get ahead.

Crisp on top, custardy underneath, and generous with the butter, this holiday icon keeps earning its place at the table.

Silky filling, flaky crust, a whisper of spice: This is pumpkin pie done right.

Brown butter, pecans, sage, bacon. What could be better?

Gravy-braised turkey, the brightest collards in the world, all-dressed-up cornbread, and more recipes and advice (even some table manners) from decades of Test Kitchen wisdom.

It’s a two-for-one Thanksgiving stunner, no carving needed.

Cut into little squares for an appetizer, or serve wedges for a vegetarian main or standout side.

Treat collards like salad greens with a walnut-speckled dressing.

The antithesis of a haphazardly chunked together fruit salad.

We asked Bon Appétit staffers, friends, and their kids to settle the holiday’s thorniest questions.

Inspired by stuffing, a fully loaded loaf.

Going somewhere for the holidays? Here’s what to bring.

Nothing beats a classic apple pie—well, maybe a bourbon caramel apple pie.

Like a fine cappuccino, but make it pie. The big bonus here is the buttery oatmeal cookie crust—which requires zero pie weights during prebake.

A tangy exclamation point to the holiday meal.