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.

Chicories with Yogurt, Preserved Lemon, and Mint

I discovered earlier this year that radicchio is far too bitter for my taste. Most chicories are. I didn’t expect to enjoy this salad, which proved true. But one of my dinner guests enjoyed it so much that he took home all of the leftovers. I guess it’s an acquired taste. 

This salad is very simple — torn radicchio and mint leaves tossed with grated garlic, lemon juice, and preserved lemon. Salt and pepper, of course. And laid atop salted greek yogurt. But no matter the flavor pairing, a salad that primarily consists of radicchio, in my opinion, will always be dominated by its inherent bitterness, even with a creamy dressing like yogurt. But the salad sure looked beautiful! 

I served this salad alongside Alison’s Vinegar-Roasted Beets (love!), Yogurt-Marinated Leg of Lamb (post to come), and Sour Cream Flatbreads (a true omg). 

218 recipes cooked, 7 to go.

Four-Bean Salad with Green Romesco by Alison Roman

I had several plans to make this bean salad throughout the course of this past summer. Every time I went to make it, something distracted me or set me on a different course. Maybe I couldn’t find a can of butter beans in the store that day. Maybe that gathering we were supposed to attend got canceled. Maybe the last thing I felt like doing was pulling out my food processor. This salad is, no doubt, a dish meant for the summertime — warmer weather, perhaps an outdoor setting to eat it in. But I finally found myself, in the middle of snowy January making a four bean salad for a group of people in need of some summertime cheer. 

I threw together this salad on Wednesday night. I started by rinsing and draining the three canned bean varieties: butter, cannellini, and black eyed. I try to drain beans as far in advance of using them as I can so they don’t bring extra water/moisture with them. Though a bit harder to find, particularly the black eyed and butter beans, this combination works really well together — especially with their different sizes. 

While the beans dried out, I put together the romesco in my food processor, which eliminated much of the required chopping. I first wrote about this romesco when I made Alison’s Crispy Skinned Salmon (a top recipe from the project). Last time, I used almonds. This time, I tried walnuts, and didn’t notice a major difference. 

I then cut up the fresh green beans and lemon slices and tossed them in a gallon-sized Ziploc bag with salt and pepper. Using the bottom of my non-stick skillet, I set about bruising the beans and lemons by whacking the skillet over them with force (but not too much — last time I used this method for a recipe, the bag broke and it made a whole mess.) I didn’t aim for mashed beans, but mildly dented. 

I tossed all of these ingredients together with more lemon juice, salt, pepper, and dill, and put the bowl in the fridge. 

On Thursday, January 13, my parents, two siblings, and husband, gathered in the cold to commemorate my grandmother’s beautiful life by her graveside. She lived 93 years packed with authentic joy, weathered loss, and radical authenticity. I loved my grandmother so much. She was and still will be a lifelong role model for me. Her funeral was an intimate and meaningful time of sharing stories and remembering her life. We went to lunch at her favorite restaurant afterward and I ordered salmon, just like she always did. 

That night, my family came to my apartment to unwind from the long, emotional day. I served them this salad. It was perfect. They each remarked how fresh and lemony it tasted. They liked the crunchy texture of the beans and pops of dill. Each person dressed it up differently, adding Cholula or tortilla chips or feta cheese. The bowl was pretty much gone by the end of the night. I’m glad I inadvertently waited so long to make this salad. 

211 recipes cooked, 14 to go.

Celery Salad with Cilantro and Sesame by Alison Roman

I put off a celery salad for as long as I could. I just couldn’t imagine an entire salad made of celery -- a vegetable I don’t dare eat on its own. Its flavor is too strong for me. Eating it requires too much chewing. I don’t mind celery mixed into things like soup, but a base of celery? Never. 

I started a new full-time job in September and have made some new coworker pals. One evening after work, I was standing on the train platform, waiting for my ride back home to the city. I stood waiting with one such pal and told her about this project. “Oh Alison Roman! I love her recipes! My favorite is her celery salad with cilantro.” I did a double take. Of ALL the tasty recipes she could choose from, her favorite is a celery salad?! I was stumped. 

Of course, I now see a bit more of what she meant. No, this recipe isn’t my top 20 of the 225 recipes I’ve (almost) cooked. But it’s certainly in the top half of Alison salads and it’s something I’d make again. I followed Alison’s suggestion and prepared this recipe alongside her Soy-Braised Brisket (which was even better than I remembered it). The salad’s combination of sesame oil and fish sauce really complement the soy and honey flavors of the meat. Beyond the brisket, this salad would work really well with main dishes like pho, bulgogi, or chicken teriyaki.  

While the title suggests that the bulk of the salad consists of celery, I found it to be proportionately balanced with scallions, jalapeño, and cilantro as well. Tossed together with fish sauce, sesame oil, lime juice, and toasted sesame seeds — this celery salad is a wild card front runner I never saw coming.

210 recipes cooked, 15 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.