Crispy Chocolate Cake with Hazelnut and Sour Cream by Alison Roman

Let’s talk about a chocolate cloud. No, I’m not referencing Willy Wonka or Candlyand, the classic board game of my childhood. I’m talking about the essence of a cloud made of rich, decadent dark chocolate with hints of hazelnut and almond. 

Just keeping it real, Alison’s crispy chocolate cake is a gluten-free chocolate cloud. A cloud that can interrupt my sunny skies any day. 

I don’t feel like walking through every step of the cake-making process today. But I do want to write a little something about the people I shared this chocolate cake with, which I’ll intersperse with pictures of the cake baking process, because I have them, so why not. 

My coworkers, the team of ten at the Center for Vocation and Career, are a delightfully diverse and committed and thoughtful group of people invested in the success of our students, now and beyond college. They care about the whole student, which includes the intersection of career goals, personal passions, faith, family, and culture. They spend their time actively listening to the needs of students and responding with compassion and gentle wisdom. They go above and beyond to champion others. They’ve made it their jobs! 

I am blessed to work with these people and blessed to share my chocolate cloud with them too. On a day when students were off campus, we had a team potluck for lunch. The theme? Charcuterie board. My contribution? This cake. And I’m thankful to say it was swiftly consumed in full that afternoon. 

As I looked around the room at these comrades eating cheese and meats, munching on olives, forking a bite of chocolate cake, I felt nothing but gratitude. Gratitude to work alongside them, to learn from them, and to contribute as well. I’ve said it before, there’s something particularly special about contributing to the nourishment, the physical sustaining, of people you care about. I’ve learned not to underestimate the power of sharing a homemade chocolate cake, especially because of this project.

163 recipes cooked, 62 to go.

Pasta with Crispy Squid, Lemon, and Chile by Alison Roman

Jordan and I usually splurge on an appetizer when we go out to eat for special occasions. If fried calamari is on the menu, it’s almost a guarantee that Jordan will suggest it. 

Other than in its salty breaded form, I encountered squid at overnight science camp in the 6th grade. There, we snorkeled the reefs of Catalina Island, learned about oceanic tides and dissected a large squid, squealing when the ink sack let out a potent black liquid all over our gloves. 

When it came to shop for squid in this dish, I could only picture the tiny tentacles and thin, curled rings in a calamari dish. You know, the rings that look like miniature pool intertubes. I spoke with the fishmonger at the Whole Foods counter, and searched the frozen section at TJ’s, but couldn’t find the small rings. It’d been a long time since I’d peered at a full squid, and I had forgotten that their bodies look like a long white tube with tentacles coming out one end. Then, it finally dawned on me that those calamari rings were actually sliced squid bodies. If I bought these large tubes, I would just need to slice them myself! 

Before cooking the squid, I first split each tentacle grouping in half and thinly sliced each long body into quarter-inch pieces. I was slightly concerned that they looked flat, without that signature curled ridge. But I was quickly put at ease – as soon as the tubes touched the hot skillet, they shrank and their edges folded over the top. They resembled what I recognized as restaurant calamari. 

My confidence was bolstered now, and I quite enjoyed the rest of the cooking process. Ahead of any squid business, I thinly sliced a lemon, four cloves of garlic, and a fresno chile. This allowed me to move with ease once the pan was hot and ready for the ingredients to be added in a rather quick succession. First, the squid is fried until golden brown, then removed temporarily from the pan. Next, the lemons and garlic sizzle in some olive oil, followed by the chile and the cooked squid. The cooked pasta and some pasta water get added last, with a seasoning of salt and pepper. The ingredients need time to simmer as a light sauce thickens and the noodles become well acquainted with flavor. The final step is to top the dish with a load of fresh herbs -- I used cilantro and basil, but dill and mint would also work. 

The whole meal was both filling, flavorful, and not too heavy. The lemon and garlic add a good bit of acid to balance any overly fishy tones from the squid. The fresno chile packed way more heat than I expected, but in a good way. It’s spiciness is a lot brighter than that of red pepper flakes, or even jalapeno. For that reason, I would argue that Fresno chile is a must. It also added some nice pops of bright red color to the dish. For those who might be interested, I served this with Alison’s Blood Orange & Avocado Salad.

65 recipes cooked, 160 to go.

Black Lentils with Crispy Garlic and Labne by Alison Roman

In my last post about lentils, I said there were more stories to be told, more memories to share, about these pebble-like grains. For some reason, all my thoughts of lentils are very clear. Perhaps more than any other food, lentils have appeared in very specific moments of college and early adulthood where I felt a shift or a change in my world view. I can look back on each one and think, oh that was the day when I realized ___.  Writing about these moments seems like a valuable exercise, if only to practice remembering them for myself. 

Last time I shared my very first lentil experience (it was not a good first impression). There’s a gap in my memory of lentils between that winter lentil dinner and this next lentil encounter, so I’ll just assume I didn’t eat any lentils between January 2013 and January 2017. 

Sophia & Mark

happy pals, tired pals

On New Year’s Day 2017, I boarded a long flight from Chicago to Kigali, Rwanda. My dear friends Amy and Margaret, and I, along with our acting professor and his daughter, journeyed to this small, resilient country to teach a 3-week theater course to a group of middle and high school students. Our other dear friend Sophia lived in Rwanda and taught full-time at a school there. She graciously invited us to join her for this theater-intensive course wherein we would work with the students to devise a musical, based on a beloved children’s story called “You are Special.” It was an opportunity to not only use our storytelling skills, but also experience the country that Sophia loves so much. 

I could write many essays about our experiences there, the things we taught and the things taught to us, but that’s not what you’re here for. Instead, lentils. Lentil soup, to be exact. 

This was lentils’ turning point, there in that Rwandan kitchen with tiled flooring and bright blue walls. On one of our first nights, Sophia offered to cook us a pot of lentil soup for dinner. In addition to lentils, the soup also had angel hair pasta, carrots, tomatoes, onions, and various spices thrown in to simmer over the stove. In opposition to my last bowl of lentils, this soup spent a lot of time simmering, letting the lentils soften and the flavors meld together. Sophia is someone who deeply resists the urge to rush. I could taste her care in each bite.  

Margaret, Amy and I have all tried recreating this soup in the years since that trip, always with the intention of reliving our experience in Rwanda. I’m sure we’ve each gotten close, but no bowl will ever compare, for me at least, to the bowl that Sophia made for me in her home in Kigali on a warm January night. That night I was reminded of how much I need other people, and how that can be a blessing. 

If you’re still wondering about Alison’s lentils, I’ll say that they were delicious and simple. The recipe made wayyy too many lentils for just two people to eat - so I’ll call this one good for hosting others. The dish consists of black lentils cooked al dente and tossed with lemon juice, zest and cilantro. On top of the lentils, you can add a large dollop of labne (or goat’s milk yogurt if you’re me) and some frizzled garlic and shallots. Next time I make this, I’ll cut the lentil portion in half, but keep the same amount of garlic/shallot/labne.

51 recipes cooked, 174 to go.

Crispy Chicken Legs with Rosemary, Tiny Potatoes, and Sour Cream by Alison Roman

Truthfully, I don’t know where to begin. How to describe the very best chicken leg you’ve ever tasted? How to communicate its delicate tenderness? How to memorialize the scents of garlic and rosemary wafting from the kitchen to the living room?

I believe a song is in order. 

me circa 2010

Just kidding, I won’t do that to you. I was just so moved by this meal. I’ll do my best to paint its picture. 

The ingredients are few and require very little prep. Chicken legs, which include both thigh and drumstick, took a little searching for me, since Trader Joes doesn’t carry them. I found some at Whole Foods. The chicken is covered with salt and pepper and placed in a deep baking dish. A head of garlic cut crosswise, several sprigs of rosemary, and tiny potatoes join the chicken. Alison says the potatoes should be no larger than a quarter, but I couldn’t find such small potatoes. Instead, I cut my baby dutch potatoes in half. And as is customary with Alison’s chicken recipes, the pan is absolutely drenched in olive oil. (Thank goodness my mother-in-law shares her Costco membership with me. I’m going through so much olive oil these days.) 

The pan is baked for 1.5 hours over a low temperature. By the time it was done, the smells of garlic and rosemary had fully permeated my entire apartment, and I could barely stand waiting any longer for the meal, but I resisted digging in for one more crucial step -- to crisp up the chicken skin by searing the legs skin-side down in a pan over high heat. The extra effort and wait is so worth the crispy exterior to such fall-apart, tender meat underneath. 

The garlic cloves turn soft and buttery, ready to spread over each bite of chicken before dipping it into sour cream. I will eat this meal over and over again for many years to come. Such little work, and a good deal of patience, creates a truly inspirational meal. 

41 recipes cooked, 184 to go.

Crispy Smashed Potatoes with Onions and Parsley by Alison Roman

I have something to admit. I made this recipe twice before writing about it. The first time, I failed. The potatoes weren’t boiled long enough and when I tried smashing them, they fell apart. (Alison suggests using a steamer basket but I don’t have one of those.) I still went to the effort of frying the broken potato bits, but they looked pretty sad and were not the right texture. 

The second time around I had better success. A few of the potatoes still fell apart during the smashing, but the majority held together. This time, I chose potatoes that were no larger than a golf ball, no exceptions. I let the potatoes boil for closer to 20 minutes, instead of 10-15, and let them cool for 3-4 minutes before smashing. I used the bottom of a wide water glass to flatten the potatoes, not a fork. Then I left the potatoes alone for longer while frying, and they thanked me for it - getting crispier than before. 

These potatoes are topped with parsley and sliced onions fried in butter. You can’t go wrong with onions fried in butter. You just can’t. Except if you burn them, but don’t do that! 

This dish can be served with just about anything. I made mine with Soy-Brined Halibut (post to come).

20 recipes cooked, 205 to go.

Also, how cute is this tiny potato!