Leftovers get short shrift. Relegated to the back of the fridge, abandoned among forgotten condiments and that container of heavy cream stuck to the shelf, they are mostly thought of as late-night snacks, economy dinners or tomorrow’s lunch. Even the word “leftovers” carries the negative connotation of the unwanted, the uneaten, the scraps.

Judith Jones, the editor who famously championed Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking,” said as much in her memoir. “The emphasis is always on the dish that will impress your guests, and yesterday’s lamb, even topped with mashed potatoes and called shepherd’s pie, is not likely to do that,” she wrote. “Yet so many of the world’s great dishes, like cassoulet and moussaka, were born out of leftovers.”

On those rare occasions when attention is paid to leftovers, it is usually within the context of being thrifty or green, letting nothing go to waste. Those are noble goals, but as a cook, and as a someone who makes a living seeing food as art (I am a food photographer and stylist), I prefer to focus on their potential as ingredients. Those woebegone leftovers are a great source of inspiration, and they can pave the way to greater success in the kitchen. They are an invitation to improvise.

Improvisation

Cooks are like musicians; there are those who read the sheet music and replicate it bar for bar, and then there are those who can riff and deviate to make a song their own. This is the kind of cook many of us want to be, the jazzman with a frying pan.

My work requires me to follow a recipe to the letter, so that the finished dish in the photo looks just as the author says it will. But even before I shot food professionally, I followed directions with care. While there is a certain amount of skill needed to do that well, it lacks creativity.

One evening, as I stared into my refrigerator, which was packed with food after a photo shoot, I thought, “Man, there is nothing in here to eat.” Then I had an epiphany. I started to drag out all manner of leftover pieces, parts and pre-made dishes. They were the notes that could be arranged into a whole new song.

I tore meat from chicken thighs originally cooked in a stew, chopped up carrots and onions, pulled out the rice that was lurking on the bottom shelf in a Chinese food container, and got out the big saute pan. What emerged was a quick stir-fry with pine nuts and raisins, a nod to my Sicilian roots. It was delicious, yes, but more important was that it felt like an accomplishment. It was like a switch had been thrown.

Accompanists

In order to make leftovers the star, its helps to have accompanists standing by. I keep some key ingredients in the kitchen that add flare to a dish, or help quickly forge a new one. Stock, for instance, can help bring moisture and flavor to already-cooked foods as you reheat them, even if they didn’t contain stock in first place, like leftover grains. Save rinds from hard cheeses, like Parmesan, pecorinos or Gruyere, to throw into soups and stews; they add a silky, savory richness.

I love to keep balls of pizza dough in my freezer. Any meat, even a leftover stew or roast, can be used to top a pizza or be folded into a calzone or pocket pastry. (The same goes for gyoza or wonton wrappers.)

Using that same dough, I’ve made a version of a Jamaican meat pie with leftover short ribs, stripping the meat off the bones, and reseasoning and reheating it in a little stock to get a bit more zip. I added some spicy peppers and onions to the meat, and stuffed the mixture into small dough rounds that were baked in the oven. You could even deep-fry these for something really decadent.

Crispy panko bread crumbs can add texture to wilted greens or anything else that lacks a satisfying crunch.

Sprinkling them into or over gratins, sauteed pasta dishes and casseroles gives a dish made with leftovers a freshly cooked feel. I owe my crowning achievement in the leftovers arena to panko: a variation on eggplant parmigiana.

I was left with pounds of leftover grilled eggplant after a photo shoot, and although eggplant is my favorite vegetable, grilling it is my least favorite preparation.

Without breading and frying the eggplant, I worried that the dish would be soggy and lack form. I layered the bread crumbs with the eggplant to give the vegetable that familiar breaded flavor and a little crunch. I proceeded with my usual preparation, minus some cooking time, and the result was remarkably close to the original.

Riffing

You can master leftovers even if you are a beginner. When you find your refrigerator stuffed with small amounts of vegetables (cooked or raw) and you have eggs, cheese and herbs, a frittata can be a great canvas. If you go all bebop fusion and dig into that spice cabinet, Daddy-O, your results can be the diggity.

As you gain confidence and learn more about which ingredients and seasonings fit together, your frittata can go from basic, like one with spinach sauteed in garlic, to a more complex creation. I made one recently using leftover sauteed shredded cabbage and winter squash, seasoning it a bit on the sweet side.

Egg dishes are usually savory in Western cooking, but the combination of eggs and sweetness is common in Japan, and it was an experiment that worked out well. You can riff on an Indian theme with some cumin, curry and cardamom, or go Greek with feta, dill and red onion.

If you are a more advanced cook, try something a little grand. Using those same Greek-inspired ingredients, you can create a dinner pie with phyllo that will earn you accolades at the table. Or use phyllo to make small fruit tarts; drizzle melted chocolate over the top as a finishing touch.

Greek-style Dinner Pie with Leftover Greens

Makes 6 to 8 servings.

1 TBS extra-virgin olive oil, plus additional as needed

1 med to lg red onion, finely chopped

Salt

2 lg garlic cloves, minced

8 oz raw greens (such as chard or kale), cut into ribbons, or 2 C cooked greens

1⁄4 C finely chopped flat-leaf parsley

1⁄3 C finely chopped fresh dill

Freshly ground black pepper

3 lg eggs

5 oz feta cheese, crumbled

12 sheets phyllo dough

4 to 6 TBS unsalted butter, melted

In a large heavy skillet over medium heat, heat 1 tablespoon oil. Add the onion and saute until tender, about 5 minutes. Add a generous pinch of salt and the garlic, stirring until fragrant, about 30 seconds.

If using raw greens, add, stirring until wilted, 2 to 4 minutes depending on which greens are used. If using cooked greens, add, stirring just until heated. Remove from heat, add parsley and dill, and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Heat oven to 375 degrees. Brush a 10-inch tart or pie pan with oil. In a large bowl, beat the eggs until foamy. Add the feta and the greens mixture, and stir to combine.

Spread a sheet of phyllo across the pan so that the edges of it drape evenly over it. Gently fit the center of the sheet into the base of the pan. Quickly and lightly, brush the phyllo with butter. Repeat with seven more sheets of phyllo, stacking them one on top of the other so that they form an asterisk pattern.

Fill with the greens mixture, and fold the draped edges over to enclose the filling. Top with the remaining four sheets of phyllo, buttering each one, and again stacking in an asterisk pattern. Fold the edges under so that the dough extends about an inch beyond the rim of the pan, and then tuck the dough slightly into the pan, while rolling and twisting the edge under to shape a crust. Using a sharp knife, make several slashes through the top of the pie into the filling to allow steam to escape as the pie bakes.

Bake the pie until the crust is crisp and golden brown, about 50 minutes. Serve hot, warm, or at room temperature. For a crispy crust, this is best served the same day baked.