Celery & Fennel Salad, Cantaloupe & Arugula Salad, and a Baked Potato Bar by Alison Roman

“IT’S THE FI-NAL SAL-LAAAAADS!” (And some baked potatoes!) 

The ones I waited longest to enjoy. Eating these two salads revealed two new discoveries: 1) Hard blue cheese actually isn’t so bad. 2) Black olives are the most inferior kind of olive. Those two ingredients are the sole reasons I waited so long to make these salads. They also confirmed one fact that I already knew by heart: 1) olive oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper are all you need to dress a fantastic salad. 

I just spent the last few days celebrating a dear college friend who’s getting married soon. A small group of us drove or flew to Sawyer, Michigan where several inches of snow and a cozy cabin by Lake Michigan awaited. Weekends like these remind me just how blessed by community I am. I’ve been gifted friendships with some of the most authentic, kind, goofy, thoughtful women. Perhaps what’s most impressive about them is that they are the same kind of people in friendship as they are in the world every day, towards friends and strangers alike. We don’t see one another more than maybe once a year, which makes our time together all the richer. 

Those who flew, came in through Chicago airports, so they needed a ride to the cabin and back. We had some time to spend before their flights home, so I decided to involve them in making three of my final six recipes for a fancier-than-usual lunch. 

We gathered around my kitchen island and assumed our positions…

Megan: She owns Dining In, and thus has cooked a good number of Alison’s recipes herself. So she took charge of making Alison’s Skillet Chicken with Crushed Olives and Sumac. We’ve both made this several times in the last year because it’s that good. (It’s also the recipe used for the cover of the book). 

Molly: Standing at the corner of the counter, she expertly sliced and seeded a cantaloupe into half-inch thick rounds, then removed the outer skin. Alison says nothing about removing the rind, but we figured it’d be easier to eat that way (duh). Molly also took charge of thinly slicing the celery stalks — like a boss. 

Anne: Standing in the middle, Anne eagerly volunteered to stab the russet potatoes all over with a fork to prep them for the oven. Post-oil, she sprinkled them with salt and pepper. She helped Molly remove the cantaloupe rinds. She coarsely chopped the walnuts and pistachios. She tossed the cantaloupe and arugula together and squeezed a whole lemon all over it. She topped the bowl with the chopped black olives and a handful of chopped chives. 

Caroline: God bless her. At the far end of the counter, she oiled the potatoes by hand. After, she expertly sliced a fennel bulb into thin strips and a shallot into thin rings. She tossed the celery, fennel, lemon juice, shallot, toasted nuts, salt, pepper, and olive oil together. She crumbled the hard blue cheese on top and sprinkled the bowl with celery leaves. Anne and Molly helped with the celery leaves too. She finely chopped the black olives (I used a tiny can of pitted ones from Whole Foods.) 

Yours truly: I played quarterback -- giving each teammate instructions at regular intervals. My few tasks included toasting the nuts in a skillet (I didn’t have enough walnuts to fill half a cup so I added pistachio meats into the mix— a great call), testing each dish and adding salt and pepper to taste, and setting out the baked potato toppings - sour cream, Greek yogurt, butter, flaky salt, pepper, and chopped chives. 

This meal obviously consisted of dishes chosen by necessity. I didn’t consider a cantaloupe and black olive salad to be the first choice pairing for a baked potato bar. But much to my surprise, all four dishes felt surprisingly cohesive as a meal, with the celery and fennel salad as the strongest outlier.

Someone recently asked me what my favorite part has been about this project. My answer? The people I enjoyed the meals with. Every dish created an opportunity to invite people into my home, or bring the food to them, and commune together. Share an experience, talk about what we’re eating, the flavors we’re tasting. A chance to encourage and nourish the people I love. Yes, that is what brings me the most joy. 

221, 222, and 223 recipes cooked, 2 to go.

Ricotta-Stuffed Shells with Burrata, Mushrooms, and Herbs & Perfect Herby Salad

I put this recipe off for as long as possible. Not because it didn’t sound good, but because it has more dairy than anyone should eat in a single meal. I’m talking heavy cream, ricotta, parmesan, and mozzarella all filling every imaginable nook and cranny of a 2 quart dish. A delicious stomach ache just begging to happen. 

Well I certainly wasn’t going to eat this one alone. We invited two dear friends over, Elli and Christian, to help us eat it and make it. Why not make the Great Dairy Assembly, as I’m now going to call it, a communal activity? 

Before our friends arrived, I went ahead and started the mushrooms roasting in the oven as well as bringing a pot of salted water to a boil for the pasta. Alison recommends a variety of mushrooms, but I just went for the straightforward pre-sliced baby Bella mushroom cartons at TJ’s. I’ve cooked a lot of her mushroom recipes lately, and I was honestly over spending $7 for 5oz. of little shiitakes. 

I scored some gluten free shells on Amazon, Tinkyada Brown Rice Grand Shells. The packaging says to boil the shells for 15-16 minutes for al dente, so that’s what I did. The edges of the shells were very cooked by that point, but the centers were a little tougher, harder. I definitely didn’t cook them perfectly, but once you’ve poured out the pasta water, it’s hard to go back. Oh well. I did as Alison instructed and poured the newly cooked shells onto an oiled baking sheet to help them cool and not stick together. This mostly worked. 

Now for the Great Dairy Assembly. Elli took each shell and filled it with the Great Dairy Mixture, consisting of ricotta, heavy cream, shaved parmesan, salt and pepper. One by one, she placed them in the baking dish while I desperately tried to arrange them without letting them tip over and spill their filling. Which turned out to be very difficult. Despite the rather al dente state of the pasta, the shells wanted desperately to let the cheese run out. We made a valiant effort to keep them all intact, but it sure was messy. With the shells filled and haphazardly arranged, we stuffed torn pieces of a mozzarella ball into whatever crevices we could find. Next, we poured heavy cream over the dish, followed by the roasted mushrooms. We baked the dish as instructed, about 35 minutes in total. 

Meanwhile, Elli and I prepared the herbs and lemon zest for topping the pasta, as well as Alison’s Perfect Herby Salad. We used lots of parsley, tarragon, and chives. For the salad, I threw in a bag of mixed greens. Alison’s perfect salad dressing is exactly how I dress my salads 90% of the time anyway: olive oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. It’s truly all I need to enjoy a salad. 

The shells came out bubbling hot and the mushrooms had turned an even richer brown. We topped them with the fresh herb mixture, and yes, more parmesan. The four of us finished off every shell but one, which wasn’t a Minnesota-nice move, I swear — we were just too full to fathom eating one more shell.

206 and 207 recipes cooked, 18 to go.

Tiny Creamy Pasta with Black Pepper and Pecorino by Alison Roman

I really enjoy tiny kitchen things. Tiny forks for eating grapes, tiny spoons for eating ice cream, tiny knives for cutting fancy cheese, tiny cups for juice, tiny plates for biscuits, and tiny bowls for everything! (I have four of them and affectionately call them my ‘mini bowls’ in a very particular voice intonation). 

So of course I was giddy when I saw a recipe for tiny pasta! Now, GF tiny pasta is hard to find. The best I could do were these tiny pasta shells by Jovial, which let me say, were delicious. I couldn’t tell they were GF - they held their structure, toasted nicely in the pot at the beginning, and their texture was like authentic pasta, no mushiness or mealiness to be found. 

I made this warm, wintery meal for my mother and sister who came to visit me in Chicago. It was a perfect weekend together, full of Christmas-y activities, including wearing matching pajamas. After spending much of the day walking around in the cold, our final evening consisted of this tiny pasta in my apartment with the heater on blast. 

It’s a simple and surprisingly creamy endeavor. In my Dutch oven, I toasted sliced garlic (from two extraordinarily large cloves!). Soon after, the pasta joins and the goal is to toast the shells in the garlicky oil so they develop a slightly nutty flavor. Once I could smell the toasting pasta, I added salt, lots of black pepper, a cup of finely grated Parmesan (this works if you don’t have pecorino) and several cups of water. The water needs to simmer for about 22 minutes, until fully absorbed and reduced to a creamy, cheesy sauce. Alison instructs us to stir frequently, which encourages the pasta to release its starch, thickening up the sauce and turning the water an opaque white. 

I plated (or should I say bowled?) the pasta and topped it with chopped chives and more black pepper. On most days, I would have chosen to add the raw egg yolk like Alison, but on this day, I just wasn’t in the mood. I served the pasta alongside Alison’s Raw Broccoli Salad with Shallots and Peanuts — a vegetable dish that completely surprised me. That one’s coming up next. 

This pasta is like a sophisticated, slightly more complicated mac and cheese, and it still only takes 25 minutes. Let’s just say I won’t be making regular mac and cheese again any time soon.

185 recipes cooked, 40 to go.

Split Pea Salad by Alison Roman

For a long time, actually my whole life, I thought split peas were simply green peas split down the middle. Sometimes things are allowed to be that simple, right? Turns out, I was sort of right. Split peas are green peas that have been peeled, dried, and then split down the middle. Split peas are grown and harvested differently than regular green peas, in a manner conducive to their drying and splitting. Personally, seems like a lot of effort to go into for some subpar grains (they don’t begin to compare to lentils or beans). And, other than split pea soup, does anyone use these split little guys in their regular cooking? I have doubts!

Alas, Alison has found a way to incorporate these oft forgone grains in a delicious salad that’s perfect for packing in school lunches and bringing to barbeques. Honestly, I’m here for it. 

I started by preparing the split peas. They needed roughly 30 minutes in boiling water to soften. I expected their bite to have a tiny mealy center, much like a lentil, but I don’t think that can be achieved without over-cooking them and letting them fall apart into a great green mush. If you want them to maintain their shape, expect their bite to resemble a slightly undercooked lentil. I combined the drained split peas with regular peas (I used frozen and thawed ones). Instead of letting my peas thaw over time on the counter, I stuck them in cold water, and they thawed within a matter of minutes. 

Next, I cooked some bacon low and slow. Ten minutes over medium heat was enough time for the bacon to render lots of fat and still get crispy, just the way Jordan likes it. The bacon fat became my cooking fat for the potatoes, which were baby dutch potatoes, quartered, and sprinkled with salt and pepper. Fifteen or so minutes over medium heat was all it took for the potatoes to turn a golden, crispy brown. The trick is to avoid stirring them too much.

Before tossing the potatoes with the peas and bacon, I poured mustard and red wine vinegar in with the potatoes and coated them in the acidic liquids. The whole skillet -- potatoes, cooking fat and all, get tossed with the peas and bacon and create a wonderfully flavorful salad. Topped with fresh chives, this salad is better than any salad you’ll find at a deli counter. It can be served cold or hot, either is delicious. 

I’ve been eating this for lunch all week, and I’ve yet to grow tired of it. 

138 recipes cooked, 87 to go.