The Art of Gathering, with Aran Goyoaga

Aran Goyoaga has spent her career noticing things most of us walk past: the slight asymmetry of a handmade bowl, the exact moment radicchio turns from bitter to mellow in a hot oven, the particular way Basque towns seem to gather without ever quite trying to. A James Beard finalist, America’s Test Kitchen Editor-in-Residence, and the voice behind best-selling Substack Cannelle et Vanille, Aran built her career on gluten-free baking before her own health forced her to relearn her relationship with food entirely. These days, that same close attention shows up everywhere: in her photography, her styling, her writing, and—most recently—in a salad developed just for us, styled in one of Casa Zuma’s natural wood salad bowls she singled out for its imperfect, slightly oval shape.

We asked Aran to walk us through the recipe, her creative process, and what “gathering” really means to her. Her answers, like her cooking, moved fluidly between the practical and the philosophical—which felt exactly right.

You mentioned loving the wood bowl’s slightly oval shape rather than a perfectly round one. What draws you to imperfect or organic forms in the pieces you cook and photograph with?

I’ve always been drawn to pieces that feel as though they were made by hand rather than by machine. Slight imperfections give an object character. They feel lived in and authentic, and I think they complement food’s naturalness. I love how the salad bowl is a little asymmetrical—it shoots beautifully, too. Nature is never perfectly symmetrical, so those organic forms make a table feel more relaxed and inviting.

This salad feels like a real late-summer-into-fall transition dish. What was the inspiration behind pairing radicchio, grape, and apple together, and how does it reflect the way you’re eating and cooking this time of year?

I am a sucker for those moments of transition. Once we are deep in one particular season, I am already excited for the next. This time of year is so rich because we have grapes and plums and even tomatoes late into summer and early fall — or at least in the Pacific Northwest — but then apples and even pumpkins or radicchio appear shortly after. By the end of August, I am already craving warm foods and more intense flavors. Roasting the radicchio and grapes intensifies their sweetness and mellows out the bitterness. The richness of the cheese brings comfort. It’s just a rich and complex salad.

Your work spans cookbook writing, photography, and styling — and now your own Substack. How do those different creative practices inform each other when you’re developing a new recipe?

For me, they all happen at the same time. As I’m developing a recipe, I’m already thinking about how it will look on the table, what season it belongs to, the story behind it, and how I’ll photograph it. Photography has taught me to notice texture, light, and color, and it’s really how I tell my stories. Images and atmosphere come much more naturally to me than words.

Writing is where I struggle the most. I never quite feel like I can fully express my emotions on the page the way I can through a photograph. I love Substack because it gives me the space to bring all of those creative practices together. I can share not only the finished recipe, but also the process behind it, the lessons I’ve learned, and the small observations and stories that don’t always have a place in a cookbook.

You’ve built so much of your career around gluten-free baking specifically. How has that specialization shaped your broader relationship with food and the way you approach a recipe like this one, outside of baking?

It’s interesting, because even beyond my relationship with gluten, I think there are two very different ways of thinking: the mind of a cook and the mind of a pastry chef. If you ask people in professional kitchens, you’ll often hear the same thing. Baking teaches you to pay incredibly close attention to ingredients, balance, and technique, because even small changes can make a big difference. Perhaps that makes bakers a little more analytical in the kitchen.

As for gluten-free baking and cooking, I came to it through my own health challenges, and that changed the way I think about food. It made me see food as nourishment and fuel in a way I never had before. I grew up in the Basque Country, where we ate incredibly well — fresh, seasonal food, cooked from scratch — but no one talked about ‘eating for health.’ It was simply how we lived. There was always room for celebration and indulgence, too. When I became ill and realized that gluten, which was the very foundation of my career and livelihood, was something my body could no longer tolerate, it forced me into a new awareness. Since then, I’ve approached recipes with a deeper appreciation for how food can nourish us while still bringing joy.

What does “gathering” mean to you—whether that’s a full dinner table or something smaller and quieter, like this salad?

Sometimes I feel like such a cliché when I say this, but it’s just so true. Basque people gather. They gather in the morning at the coffee shop, they gather at lunch around a big table, they gather at the town square, they gather at the bar for wine, and they gather at home with family at night. I’m not sure if it’s a product of having small homes, so people are forced to meet outside, or just cultural—but we gather, and it’s usually around eating.

For me, now that I live in the U.S., gathering doesn’t have to mean hosting a large dinner party or being out around town constantly. Sometimes it’s simply sitting down with my family on an ordinary evening, or sharing lunch with a friend. It’s less about the number of people around the table and more about creating a moment where everyone enjoys being together and we can have conversation and connection. Food has always been my way of caring for people.

Any advice for someone wanting to make this salad feel special enough for a dinner party, without overcomplicating it?

This is such a great salad for a dinner party because it has contrast in flavors, textures, and temperatures. Use the best ingredients you can find. Use a beautiful large bowl. The salad is so colorful that you don’t need to do much to it—arrange all the components in the bowl and bring it to the table like this. Everyone can admire the beautiful colors. Then toss in the dressing at the table and serve.”

Roasting radicchio becomes pleasantly mellow while retaining a slight bitterness that balances the sweet, jammy grapes and caramelized shallots. Crisp frisée provides a fresh contrast to the warm roasted vegetables, while sliced apple adds juicy crunch. Toasted almonds and homemade croutons contribute plenty of texture, and creamy blue cheese lends richness without overwhelming the other ingredients. A bright Dijon-sherry vinaigrette, finished with fresh dill and parsley, ties the sweet, savory, and tangy flavors together for a salad that’s substantial enough for lunch yet elegant enough to accompany a roast or holiday meal.

• 2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
• 1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
• 1 tablespoon honey
• 1 small garlic clove, finely grated
• 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/4 teaspoon black pepper
• 1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

• 1 medium head radicchio, cut into 1-inch wedges
• 1 1/2 cups red seedless grapes
• 2 medium shallots, cut into thick wedges
• 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
• 1 tablespoon honey
• 1 tablespoon sherry vinegar
• 1 teaspoon kosher salt
• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper

• 1 small head frisée, torn into bite-size pieces
• 1 Honeycrisp apple, thinly sliced
• 3 ounces crumbled blue cheese
• 1/2 cup toasted almonds, roughly chopped
• 2 cups crusty croutons
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley
• 2 tablespoons chopped fresh dill

1. Heat the oven. Adjust an oven rack to the middle position and heat the oven to 425°F.

2. Make the dressing. Whisk together the sherry vinegar, Dijon, honey, garlic, salt, and pepper. Slowly whisk in the olive oil until emulsified. Set aside.

3. Roast the vegetables. Whisk together the olive oil, honey, sherry vinegar, salt, and pepper in a large bowl. Add the radicchio, grapes, and shallots and toss to coat. Arrange on a parchment-lined rimmed baking sheet.

4. Roast for 8 minutes, then remove the radicchio and set aside. Continue roasting the grapes and shallots until the grapes have burst and the shallots are browned and tender, about 12 to 15 minutes longer.

5. Assemble the salad. Place the frisée in a large serving bowl. Add the warm radicchio, roasted grapes, shallots, apple, croutons, almonds, blue cheese, parsley, and dill.

6. Drizzle with about three-quarters of the dressing and toss gently to combine. Add more dressing as needed and serve immediately.

Shop the natural wood salad bowl featured in this story, along with the rest of Casa Zuma’s tabletop collection, here.