Matzo Brei by Alison Roman

Even though I’ve read most of the Old Testament, I still have very little knowledge of Jewish culture, much less Jewish food. But I do have much admiration for Jewish culture, particularly its veneration of tradition. I often wish I grew up in a culture that placed more value on traditions and rituals. I imagine that feels very grounding. Matzo is made of unleavened bread, which is why matzo brei is commonly eaten during Passover (talk about tradition!). Matzo crackers (or “boards,” as Alison calls them) seem to be available in most grocery stores and usually come in a pack of ten or so. They resemble a giant saltine. 

Earlier this year, Alison published her matzo brei recipe in A Newsletter and A Home Movie. There are some differences, particularly in the instructions, between her recipe online and in the book. The one online gives more specifics about how long to let the matzo boards soak in water and in the eggs. It also tells us to break the boards into quarters before soaking, whereas the book tells us to soak them whole. After reading through both side by side, I chose to mostly follow the online version. My guess is that the online version is more refined, giving us more specific instructions for success. Ultimately, I have zero frame of reference for what matzo brei should look or taste like, so I went with my gut here. The first step is to pseudo-caramelize and frizzle thinly sliced onions. I say “pseudo” because we seem to be aiming for something both tender, browned, and slightly crunchy around the edges. I found it necessary to continually lower the heat of my stove to achieve this. Setting the cooked onion aside, I then broke the matzos into quarters and soaked them in hot tap water for about 40 seconds. Alison’s book instructions tell us to soak them for “a few seconds” and her newsletter instructions say “60 to 90 seconds.” I split the difference, and let the texture guide me. I found this newsletter description most helpful in judging when to remove the boards: “They should feel pliable and soft without feeling soggy— like they were caught in the rain, not drowned in the ocean.”

After soaking in water, the matzos soak in beaten eggs. And this time, both recipes agree to let them soak for 2 to 3 minutes. Then, the whole mixture joins the onions over medium-low heat until the eggs are just cooked through, another 2 to 3 minutes. 

Following the book’s recommendations, I topped both plates with sour cream and applesauce, instead of sour cream and chives. Both, I’m sure, are delicious. Like I said, I have absolutely nothing to compare with this matzo brei. But I enjoyed it! It’s hard not to like eggs, onions and crackers (though I would never have thought to combine those three things before). The apple sauce was surprisingly pleasant, balancing out the saltiness of everything else. 

198 recipes cooked, 27 to go.

Casual Apple Tart with Caramelized Buttermilk by Alison Roman

I grew up feeling rather ambivalent about apples. Apples and peanut butter, apples and caramel, or even just a plain apple - I wasn’t jazzed about apples. I did love to sing about them, though. My sweet grandmother who is now 92 years old, used to write original songs for her grandchildren to teach us important things. For example, she wrote a song about my home address and phone number so I could remember where I lived. She wrote a song about tomatoes and how delicious they are, which I credit as the main reason I’ve loved all things tomato from a very early age. She also wrote a song about how “an apple a day keeps the doctor away,” and yeah, I believed it. So I ate my apples, despite my lack of desire for them. 

When I came to college in the Midwest, I was exposed to the wonder that is the Honeycrisp apple. Which changed everything. Sophomore year, I started dating a boy (who is now a man and also my husband) from Minnesota. He wanted me to know that scientists at the University of Minnesota actually created the first Honeycrisp apple. He raved about them, like all proud Minnesotans do, and convinced me to not only eat apples, but to enjoy them. You see, a Honeycrisp is the perfect, and I mean perfect, balance of tart and sweet. It’s the juiciest of all the apples. It has the prettiest color. It is, no doubt, the most superior apple. 

Honeycrisps are the reason I was so excited to make this tart. Finally, an Alison dessert that could feature this most excellent fruit. Not to mention, it was another opportunity to try my hand at pie crust. Making pie crust is a true art form, and I find that I get better at it every time I do it. While I’m sure Alison’s “The Only Pie Crust” adds an even butterier element to this lovely tart, I chose to stick with King Arthur’s gluten-free pie crust recipe for personal reasons. I must also note that this was by far my most successful time making pie crust. The butter was the right amount of cold when I rolled the dough out, and none of it stuck to my rolling pin. A true win. 

A few more notes on the tart… This apple dessert - drizzled with butter, sugar, cinnamon, and ground ginger - was like an apple pie, but differently shaped and less fussy. I left it in the oven a touch too long, so the apples were nicely softened but the crust got a little too browned. I think the buttermilk coating on the crust added a nice touch (but it didn’t make or break the dessert). I sliced two pounds of apples, per Alison’s instructions, but could only fit 1 pound on the dough. I squeezed lemon juice over the unused slices, and ate them at work throughout the rest of the week. Finally, when Alison instructs you to sprinkle the tart with flaky salt and pepper, just do it. I hesitated, particularly over the pepper, but I admit it added a subtle, smoky nuance that only enhanced the final flavor. 

165 recipes cooked, 60 to go.

Spicy Caramelized Leeks with Fresh Lemon by Alison Roman

I can’t remember the first time I ever bought a leek, but I do know it wasn’t until my 20’s that I even knew what a leek was. My father has a rather strong aversion to onions - the smell and taste of them. So growing up, my mother never cooked anything with onions, and by extension, alliums of any variety. Even garlic hardly made it into our food. The closest she usually got was garlic salt. 

To eat a leek, just a leek, would have been unimaginable just a few years ago. Now, a plain leek (with salt and harissa, of course), is something I crave. 

In case your familiarity with leeks is also lacking, I must point out something Alison emphasizes in the book: leeks are always dirty. Their tightly wrapped layers of green and white trap dirt in hard-to-reach crevices. Without thoroughly cleaning a leek, that dirt will turn into a muddy seasoning for your food. Alison’s cleaning method is to trim the dark green parts of the leek off first, and then soak the light green/white part in a bowl of cold water. This allows the dirt to loosen, so you can rub it off easily as you inspect each layer of leek. This is an unskippable step. 

My favorite step in this recipe involved slicing the leeks like party streamers. I first cut them in half lengthwise, and then, using the longest, sharpest knife I own, cut the layers into thin strips, leaving the base intact. I could have strung them on a piece of yarn and taped them on the wall like party streamers! Maybe I’ll do that for my birthday next year…. 

Before placing them in the oven to sizzle, I massaged the leeks with a harissa and olive oil mixture, making sure to get in between all the cracks and layers. I then seasoned them with salt and pepper. 

Note: This recipe calls for 4 leeks. However, I could barely fit two in my large lasagna pan. If you buy four, be prepared to use two baking pans OR search for small leeks. 

The trend with my new Chicago apartment oven is for things to take at least 5-10 minutes longer than indicated, and these leeks spent an extra 10 or so minutes in the oven to begin to achieve the same level of crispy as the picture in the cookbook. The leeks in the book have an incredible evenness to their caramelization, every strand looks equally frizzled. Perhaps if I tried to spreading the layers out more, this could have been achieved, but something tells me you’d need special equipment to achieve this level of perfection.  

Evenly caramelized or not, the leeks were delicious. The harissa carried the right amount of heat, and the flaky salt and fresh lemon bits brightened up all of the oily goodness. Our dinner guests even loved them, too. The presentation didn’t wow, but the taste sure did. 

I served this with Alison’s Overnight Focaccia, Tonight and Skillet Chicken with Crushed Olives and Sumac for another All-Out-Alison meal. 

147 recipes cooked, 78 to go.

These are our Chicago pals, Christian and Elli!

Caramelized Honey with Figs and Ice Cream by Alison Roman

Caramelized figs kind of happened to me. I wasn’t planning on this dish this week, but a box of fresh figs showed up in the front-of-store display at Trader Joe’s and I knew there was no looking back. 

Here is my personal opinion about fresh figs: I want them to have more flavor than they do. They’re just sort of mildly sweet and nothing else. I want them to be tangy, part sweet and part sour. Instead, they’re just sort of... there. Which, now that I think about it, makes sense. I’ve always felt this way about fig newtons too. 

Anywho, this recipe is super simple and takes few ingredients. It does help to have a functioning dominant hand, though, which I sadly could not supply. (I recently injured my wrist at a golfing range and I don’t want to talk about it.) Good thing we made this at our friends’ home because Madeline is a phenomenal fig-slicer, as pictured. 

First step is to caramelize the honey, aka heat it over medium heat for several minutes until bubbling and a dark amber color. Then add butter, vinegar, and a pinch of salt, like you would to a normal caramel. The figs get added, cut-side down for a moment or two before removing from heat and tossing them to coat in the caramel. Scoop onto some vanilla ice cream, and you’re good to go! I chose the soy vanilla ice cream from TJ’s, and hardly noticed a difference from regular ice cream.

For the small amount of effort it took, it was quite good. However, I wanted the figs and honey to have more complex flavors. More white wine vinegar (or lemon juice) would have helped. Maybe more salt. Maybe figs will never fully do it for me, and that’s okay. If you’re a fig newton lover, then this recipe is absolutely for you. 

101 recipes cooked, 124 to go.

Caramelized Winter Squash with Toasted Coconut Gremolata by Alison Roman

“What in the world is gremolata?” I asked myself. I asked the Internet. “Gremolata is an Italian green sauce made of chopped parsley, lemon zest, and garlic.” Oh, okay. Simple enough. 

Now that we’ve got that looming question out of the way, let’s talk about squash! For the very first time in my 27 years, I purchased an acorn squash. I felt very sophisticated as I searched the 6'x6' cardboard box of squashes at the grocery store. I found one in the right weight range and that had some fun orange coloring at the top and called it a day. 

Slicing the squash into equally thick, ½” rings was another matter entirely. If you don’t have a reliable chef’s knife, then tread cautiously. I struggled to hold onto the rolly squash and maintain a straight line as I sawed through its ridges. 

It was here that I missed an opportunity. Alison tells you that you can either scoop out the squash’s center, filled with pulp and seeds, or you can leave it all in and let the seeds toast on the pan with everything else. (Acorn squash seeds are slightly smaller and rounder than pumpkin seeds). I should have listened to her recommendation. I chose to scoop my squash out and discard the center, but one lone seed made it onto my baking sheet in the process. It was oven roasted along with the squash rings. When it was all done, I decided to try it and see what I had missed… of course, Alison was right. The seed was perfectly golden and crunchy and would have made for the best snack. Let’s just say, I will not make this mistake again. 

I roasted the squash rings in coconut oil, flipping them halfway through. They became soft and slightly sweet after 30 minutes in the oven. And the gremolata brought it all together: toasted coconut chips, finely chopped chives and cilantro, lemon zest, salt, and Aleppo pepper. This dish is very unlike any vegetable dish I’ve made before, both visually and in flavor. It was so delightful and could be served alongside a number of other things. I made mine with Buttermilk-Brined Chicken, but it would do just as well with something bolder. 

25 recipes cooked, 200 to go.