The Cozy Recipes Getty Staff Is Cooking Up This Holiday Season

For many of us, the holiday season hasn’t truly begun until that one warm, comforting dish you look forward to all year comes out of the oven.

Along with the decorations, music, and time to relax, food makes the holidays extra special. And keeping a tradition of making the same recipe your family has made for years—or embarking on a hunt to find a new recipe to add to your holiday table—is all part of the fun.

With the temperatures dropping and decorations starting to go up, we wanted to find out what dishes Getty staffers love to make during the holidays. They shared everything from recipes handwritten on a scrap of paper, to beloved meals they’ve watched their families cook since they were children, to newer recipes that have become household favorites. Perhaps they’ll inspire your own holiday menu!

Stacy Suaya, Editor, Communications and Community Engagement: Pierogi

My Polish mother and her sister have been making pierogi for as long as I can remember. Their mother, Helen, taught them how. “The secret is the Cheesers brand Wisconsin Farmers Cheese that we’ve only ever found on Amazon,” my mom says. “There is no substitute.”

Every year around Christmas time, I take my two children to visit my mother in Tucson. With my sisters and their children, we make a large batch of pierogi and eat them throughout our stay. The pierogi also freeze and travel well. Once when I was homesick in my 20s and lived in New York City, my mother sent me a huge batch in the mail.

Yield: about 60 pierogi

Ingredients

• 1 stick butter
• 2 cups milk
• 3 eggs
• 8 cups flour
• ⅛ tsp. salt
• 8 russet potatoes (peeled and quartered)
• 2–3 pounds farmer’s cheese (quartered)
• ⅛ tsp. black pepper
• ⅛ tsp. onion salt
• 2 tsp. savory

For the dough:

1. Melt the stick of butter in milk in a microwave.
2. Separately, beat the eggs.
3. Combine these ingredients with the flour and add the salt.
4. Knead the dough.
5. Cover.

For the filling:

1. Boil the russet potatoes.
2. Cool them 20 minutes (so they’re warm, not hot).
3. Place the potatoes and farmer’s cheese, plus the black pepper, onion salt, and savory, into a mixing bowl.
4. Combine with a hand mixer until smooth (no chunks). This will take about 15–20 minutes.

For the construction:

1. Prepare a surface with a thin layer of flour.
2. Add a quarter of the dough.
3. Roll out the dough with a rolling pin.
4. Use a water glass to make 8–12 circles*.
5. Add a small ball of filling in the middle of each circle.
6. Fold the circle over the filling and seal the edges with your fingers (pinch and fold over so it looks like a braid).
7. Add the batch of pierogi to boiling water on high heat and stir gently so they don’t stick together.
8. After about 10 minutes, they will float to the top. Once they are there, turn the temperature to medium heat, cook for another 7 minutes, and stir occasionally.
9. With a slotted spoon, remove the pierogi from the pot, and rinse in a colander.
10. Remove the pierogi from the colander, place on a serving plate, and add melted butter on top to serve.

*You will need to discard the unused scraps; they cannot be reused in this recipe.

Zoë Muntz, Museum Store Associate, Getty Center: Pumpkin Lasagna

My earliest memories of trick-or-treating always start with a slice of pumpkin lasagna. In fact, I’m fairly certain that if you look closely at some family photos, you’ll see me with a big grin on my face, glitter dusting my cheeks, and an orange smear of pumpkin purée haphazardly wiped from my mouth. In more recent years I’ve entered into the pumpkin-lasagna-making phase of my Halloween career; I’ve had the opportunity to introduce friends and colleagues to this cozy fall dish. And though some raise their eyebrows at the use of pumpkin in a savory context, I usually win them over, even to the point where I receive eager requests to make another one for a potluck or party whenever Halloween rolls around. Based on the Pumpkin Lasagna recipe from Food & Wine, I’ve simplified and modified the dish to my own personal liking, with the addition of mild Italian sausage to render it nonvegetarian. I also replace Swiss chard with a prepackaged greens mix with baby chard, baby spinach, and baby kale. That said, I invite you to do your own experimentation to find what works for you and your loved ones!

Food & Wine’s Pumpkin Lasagna

Mónica Puerta Hill, Spanish-Language Editor, Communications and Community Engagement: Ajiaco Santafereño

Ajiaco santafereño is a comforting soup. The combination of potatoes, corn, and other ingredients unique to the Andean highlands helps ward off the chill of Bogotá’s cool, almost autumn-like weather. My beautiful 94-year-old mother learned the recipe as a teenager from her aunt, but this soup has been cooked in homes in the Colombian mountains since pre-Hispanic times. The Muisca people prepared it with guascas, a wild herb native to the Andes, whose delicate flavor and fragrance conjure the freshness of the countryside at dawn. After the arrival of the Spanish, ingredients from outside the region were incorporated, including chicken, heavy cream, and capers. Some creative cooks, including my mother, add arracacha, a sweet root vegetable from the Bogotá savanna. For many Colombian natives, myself included, the thick, aromatic soup evokes family gatherings and Christmas nights.

Total preparation time: one hour

Directions

1. Prepare the broth. Add to the water:

• a few stalks of green onion
• a few sprigs of fresh cilantro
• chicken (can be breasts, thighs, or legs)
• corn on the cob (mazorca), which has larger and firmer kernels than most North American varieties (available in some Latin American grocery stores, or use North American corn)
• salt to taste

2. Add ingredients that will thicken the broth once it comes to a boil:

• peeled arracacha (available in some Latin American grocery stores, or use parsnip)
• peeled Pastusa potatoes, an Andean variety with a soft, floury texture, known for its delicate flavor and ability to break down during cooking (or use russet potatoes)
• Criolla potatoes, a small variety that gives the soup its appetizing golden yellow color (available in some Latin American grocery stores, or use baby Yukon Golds)

3. Lower to medium heat. Temporarily remove the arracacha and chicken.

4. Mash the arracacha into a purée, return it to the soup, and stir well.

5. Set the chicken aside and let it rest. If using breasts, shred them. If using thighs or legs, leave them whole. Set aside.

6. Add peeled Sabanera potatoes, which give the soup texture and body by retaining their structure during cooking (or use white potatoes).

7. Once the Sabanera potatoes are tender, add the guascas (available dried in some Latin American grocery stores, or online) and cook for a few more minutes, allowing the aroma of this herb to infuse the soup.

8. Once the soup has reached the right consistency (neither too thin nor too thick), serve it in a clay pot. Add the chicken. Let each person add heavy cream and capers according to taste. Serve with white rice and avocado.

Chloe Medghalchi, Communications Specialist, Communications and Community Engagement: Khoresh Fesenjān

A favorite meal in the Medghalchi family is Khoresh Fesenjān, a traditional Iranian stew made with braised poultry simmered in a rich sauce of finely ground walnuts and pomegranate molasses. Though inherently simple, the sum of its parts creates a dish that is sweet, sour, savory, and delectable. We usually reserve it for special occasions like birthdays and holidays, but as I’ve gotten older and visit my family in Texas less frequently, Fesenjān has now become a staple for the simple celebration of being together.

I’m half Iranian, and unlike the rest of my dad’s side of the family, I don’t speak Farsi, I’ve never been to Iran, and I didn’t grow up within an Iranian diaspora (which, arguably, may have been small in Texas). Being multiracial often left me feeling like an outsider or imposter to a culture I inherited but didn’t practice. That said, food is, and always has been, a way I can access my multiple heritages: Persian, Japanese, Southern, Texan, Southern Californian. Food, to me, is the space that has always felt the most welcoming, nourishing, and human, and I’m excited to share this recipe, taken from a well-worn Persian cookbook and tweaked by my dad and me over the years. Enjoy!

Ingredients

• 2½ cup walnuts
• 2 medium onions, grated
• ¼ cup butter (half a stick) or olive oil, divided by half
• ½ tsp. cinnamon
• 2 tsp. salt
• ¼ tsp freshly ground pepper
• 5 Tbs. tomato paste
• 2 Tbs. lemon juice
• 6 Tbs. sugar
• ½ cup pomegranate molasses
• 2½ cups water
• 3 lb. (typically one package) chicken*

*My dad uses diced chicken breast; I prefer bone-in chicken thighs. For a vegetarian option, substitute a large eggplant, cut into big cubes, for the chicken (salt, pat dry, remove as much moisture as possible, and brown the eggplant, or it will get mushy in the stew).

Optional garnish

• cilantro
• pomegranate arils

Directions

1. Grind walnuts in a food processor until they’re the texture of coarse, wet sand.
2. Brown the ground walnuts in a dry pan on medium heat. Stir frequently to prevent burning. Set aside.
3. In a pot, brown grated onions over medium-low heat in 2 Tbs. of butter (half the stick) or olive oil. Stir frequently.
4. Add the browned walnuts, cinnamon, salt, pepper, tomato paste, lemon juice, sugar, pomegranate molasses, and water to the pot. Simmer on low heat for 10 minutes.
5. In a separate skillet, add the remaining 2 Tbs. of butter or olive oil and brown the chicken. Cook until the chicken is about 75 percent done—browned and firmed up, but not completely cooked, as the chicken will continue to braise in the sauce.
6. After 10 minutes, the sauce should begin to thicken. Taste and adjust salt, sugar, and acidity. The sauce should be a perfect balance of these three flavors and will continue to deepen as it simmers. Add in the browned chicken, reduce the heat to low, cover, and simmer for approximately 1 hour, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking.
7. Enjoy with long-grain rice, like basmati, or Persian chelow, fluffy saffron rice. Earn bonus points if you serve with thadig, the buttery-golden and highly coveted layer of crispy rice formed at the bottom of the pot.

Ali Sivak, Assistant Director, News & Media Relations, Communications and Community Engagement: Dorie Greenspan’s Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good

I’ve been making this recipe—Dorie Greenspan’s Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good—for almost 20 years. It is an autumn harvest in a hollowed-out pumpkin, and to me it gives a Medieval Times vibe that is really perfect for the season. I look forward to the labor of this dish—carving the pumpkin and removing the “guts,” chopping loads of herbs and stale bread, letting it bake for almost two hours (!), and being patient enough to allow it to cool before cutting into it. I love slicing and sharing wedges with friends and family, while encouraging them to pair it with a dry cider or bourbon cocktail. I mix it up each year, sometimes swapping hot Italian sausage for bacon or using different cheeses and herbs. The result is always the same—a rich dish punctuated by earthy pumpkin.

The Kitchn’s Dorie Greenspan’s Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good

Tracy Kong, Prospect Analytics Associate, Institutional Advancement, J. Paul Getty Trust: Pot Stickers

My family’s Chinese pot stickers have always been more than a recipe. They’re a tradition that’s been passed down through generations, with each person claiming to know the “secret” ingredient, though no one will ever admit exactly what it is. As a child, I remember gathering around the kitchen table in China with my family, filling, folding, and pleating dozens of dumplings by hand while sharing stories and laughing together. There were never measuring cups or written instructions, only a little of this, a pinch of that, and the confidence that you would know when it tasted right. Every time I make them, I’m reminded that the real secret isn’t an ingredient at all. It’s the time spent together, the memories created in the kitchen, and the love folded into every dumpling.

Ingredients

• One pack of Twin Marquis Shanghai Style wonton wrappers, available at most international supermarkets

For the filling:

• eggs
• caramelized onion water
• white and black pepper
• fresh ginger and garlic
• a spoonful of oyster sauce and Shaoxing wine
• finely chopped napa cabbage
• chicken stock
• sugar and salt
• ground pork
• green onions
• chopped chestnuts

For the dipping sauce:

• black vinegar
• soy sauce
• garlic
• homemade chili oil
• a tiny drizzle of honey

One of the most famous “restaurant secrets” is to mix the filling in one direction for several minutes. This develops the proteins in the meat, creating a springy, juicy texture. Then let the filling rest in the refrigerator for at least an hour before wrapping.

Jennifer Roberts, Head of Editorial, Communications and Community Engagement: Fruitcake

I’ve always loved fruitcake. As a kid in the ’70s I’d eat the sticky, claggy, surely regifted version my family refused to touch. When I sublet a New York apartment after college, I rescued the monastery-made, whiskey-infused, “gourmet” version I found abandoned at the back of the refrigerator. Now an avid baker, I treasure Claire Saffitz’s New York Times recipe for One-Day Fruitcake, which yields a lusciously textured, messily iced version I crave all year. I only make it in December though, when it’s cold outside and I can pair it with a mug of strong hot tea. I substitute additional apricots for the cranberries (I hate cranberries), use brandy instead of rum (rum’s too sweet for me), and for the glaze, replace the lemon juice with brandy (the extra apricots are tart enough). The cake makes a great gift too; I’m pretty sure no one will want to regift it or abandon it at the back of a fridge.

The New York Times’ One-Day Fruitcake

Christina Campodonico, Editor, Communications and Community Engagement: Chocolate con queso

When the weather or gathering calls for it, my family enjoys my grandmother’s chocolate con queso (hot chocolate with cheese) during cafecito (coffee break), especially during the holidays. At that time of year, we’ll whip up batches to sip on with warm bread and cheese through New Year’s.

In Ecuador, my grandmother’s home country, chocolate con queso is a traditional treat for chilly days in mountainous cities such as the nation’s capital, Quito, which sits at 9,350 feet above sea level in the Andes. Chocolate con queso is also enjoyed in the neighboring Andean nation of Colombia, but each country—and family—has its own take on the recipe and tradition. My grandmother’s hot chocolate features an herb and spice infusion and borrows from caspiroleta, a warm, eggnog-like beverage popular in parts of Latin America, by adding eggs to the traditional hot chocolate recipe.

To make it, first choose a good semisweet dark chocolate bar (my family prefers Chocolate Superior from the Ecuadorian brand La Universal). For an authentic flavor, look for chocolate made with Ecuadorian cacao, which is sought after by chocolatiers for its floral, fruity notes and accounts for around 60 percent of the fine cacao sold worldwide. With chocolate-making practices stretching back more than 5,000 years, Ecuador is now widely recognized as the “motherland” or “Burgundy” of chocolate, according to conservationist and entrepreneur Jerry Toth.

You may find what you’re looking for at a specialty store or local Latin American market, where you can also pick up this recipe’s herbs and spices, including cinnamon sticks, pimienta dulce (dried allspice berries), lemongrass tea, and panela, an unrefined cane sugar traditionally sold in cones or blocks.

Directions

1. After gathering your ingredients, “prepare the water,” as my grandmother says. Steep a half stick of cinnamon, a handful of allspice, and a lemongrass teabag in one to three cups of hot water (depending on your party size) for about 10 minutes. Strain and keep the infusion warm on the stove.
2. Whisk together milk, eggs, and a tablespoon of white sugar in a mixing bowl. Two cups of milk and two eggs serve about three to four people.
3. In a separate pot, heat a small amount of water and add a pinch of salt. Chop or break up the chocolate bar and drop as much as you would like with a few chunks of panela into the hot water, stirring until dissolved.
4. Pour the milk mixture and the infusion into the chocolate water and whisk until frothy. Do not allow the chocolate blend to bubble or boil over. For a thicker consistency, stir in a tablespoon of flour. Serve hot.

My grandmother says, “chocolate sin queso es como amor sin beso” (chocolate without cheese is like love without a kiss), so if you’d like to drink the hot chocolate the Ecuadorian way, drop in a few chunks of soft, mozzarella-like white cheese, such as queso doble crema or queso fresco, which is traditional. Or as my family prefers, pair it with thick slices of Monterey Jack and a bread of your choice on the side.

If you can’t wait for cool weather to try this recipe, this chocolate also tastes great chilled. Store any leftover liquid in a pitcher in the fridge and enjoy a cold cup of chocolate milk—Ecuadorian style!

Jaime Roque, Podcast Producer/Reporter, Communications and Community Engagement: Tamales de hoja de plátano

Tamales have been part of Mexican cooking for generations, but for me, the tamales de hoja de plátano, the banana leaf tamales my mom made, will always be related to her and to the holidays. My mom was from Guerrero, Mexico, and every fall, as we got closer to Christmas, she would start making tamales. She made all kinds: sweet tamales with pineapple or raisins, corn tamales, the more traditional chicken and beef tamales, even some with cheese. But the banana leaf tamales were always my favorite. There was something about how much care went into making them. She would spread the masa onto the banana leaf, add the chicken and sauce, then fold the leaf over and over until it formed this little square package, sometimes two or three layers thick. She would even cut thin strips from the banana leaf and use them like string to tie each tamale together before steaming them. When they were finally ready, the masa was incredibly soft and tender, and the banana leaf gave this warm, earthy aroma that filled the house. Eating one almost felt like opening a present: you pulled the little strip, unfolded each layer of leaf, and finally got to the tamale inside.

Since my mom passed away in 2023, when I see tamales or even think about them, I think about her, the smell of her cooking, the holidays, and all those hours she spent in the kitchen making food for us. This year, I want to learn how to make tamales myself and for my daughter. I know they won’t be exactly like my mom’s, but maybe that’s part of what recipes are: something we inherit, learn with our own hands, and then pass on. My hope is that one day my daughter will think about these tamales and feel the same connection to me that I still feel to my mom.

Tamales de pollo en hoja de plátano al estilo Guerrero

This is the version I’m using as a starting point as I learn how to make my mom’s tamales. Like a lot of family recipes, I don’t remember her measuring much. She just knew what looked and felt right. This smaller batch is adapted from traditional Guerrero-style preparations, along with input from my aunt and what I remember from watching my mom cook.

Yield: approximately 12–16 tamales, depending on size

Ingredients

• banana leaves (available at Latin American or Asian grocery stores), enough to cut into 12–16 large pieces, plus extra for lining the steamer
• 1 pound chicken breast or thighs
• 1 pound tomatoes
• 1 pound potatoes, peeled and diced
• 1 pound carrots, peeled and diced
• ¼ small onion
• 1–2 serrano chiles, chopped, or to taste
• 2–3 bay leaves
• salt and black pepper, to taste
• chicken broth, as needed
• 2 pounds fresh masa for tamales
• ½ to 1 pound manteca (lard) as needed

Directions

1. Start with the banana leaves. Cut them into pieces large enough to wrap each tamale, then pass them briefly over a comal (a smooth, flat griddle) or carefully over a flame. You’re just warming them enough to make them soft and flexible so they don’t tear when you fold them. Wipe them clean and set them aside.
2. Cook the chicken in salted water until tender, then let it cool and shred it. Save some of the broth to use later.
3. For the filling, cook the tomatoes, potatoes, carrots, onion, serrano chile(s), bay leaves, salt, and pepper until the vegetables are tender and everything has had time to come together. Add the shredded chicken and a little of the reserved broth if the filling gets too dry.
4. For the masa, work in the manteca and a little salt until it becomes soft, smooth, and easy to spread. Add chicken broth a little at a time if needed. The masa should be soft and moist but still thick enough to hold its shape.
5. To assemble each tamale, lay out a softened banana leaf and spread some masa in the center. Add a spoonful or two of the chicken filling. Fold the sides of the leaf over the filling, then fold in the ends to make a small rectangular package. Cut thin strips from the banana leaves and use them to tie each tamale closed.
6. Line the bottom of a steamer with extra banana leaves and arrange the tamales inside. Cover them with another layer of leaves and steam for about 40–60 minutes, or until the masa is fully cooked and releases easily from the banana leaf.

For me, learning to make these isn’t really about re-creating my mom’s recipe perfectly. I know mine may never taste exactly like hers. It’s about learning the process—the smell of the banana leaves, folding and tying each little package, and having that food cooking in the house again. Hopefully, by making them with my daughter, a little bit of what my mom gave me can continue with her.

Caitlin Brockenbrow, Getty Marrow Undergraduate Intern 2026, Communications and Community Engagement: Yorkshire Pudding

My grandmother only wrote down one recipe in her life: Yorkshire pudding. She gave it to my mom to make for my dad their first Christmas together, quickly outlined on the back of an envelope. That recipe has since traveled more than 5,000 miles from my dad’s childhood home in England to our house in California, not to mention all the moves in between. Over 30 years (and a child) later, my parents still make Yorkshire pudding.

Yorkshire pudding doesn’t seem at first to be very complicated or flashy; it’s only really made with four ingredients. That being said, there is certainly an art to making it, one closer to the complexities that go into a soufflé. A successful bake leaves you with a dippable side dish meant to accompany a traditional Sunday roast. Yorkshire pudding is a classic, uniquely British food that ties the whole meal together and makes everything feel a little more special, a little more like the holidays, and a little more like home.

Directions

1. Combine 4 oz. self-rising flour, 1 egg, 10 oz. milk, and a pinch of salt, whipping out all lumps.
2. Brush the bottom of a pan with oil and warm it in the oven at 425° F.
3. Then add the mix to the pan and cook for 30–35 minutes or until risen.