Coconut Banana Cream Pudding by Alison Roman

As a child, I experienced many random urges to bake something. Usually in the midst of boredom, I would get sudden hankerings to be creative and make something with my hands for other people. Which always led me to beg my mom to let me use up a box of baking mix in the pantry, think brownies or chocolate chip cookie bars. Though the instructions were rather straightforward, and little effort required, I still tended to nail the desserts only 50% of the time. (I had a shorter attention span in those days.) Every once in a while, we only had a packet of Jello pudding mix on hand, which only required mixing powder with cold milk and chilling it in the fridge. But it was enough to scratch my baking itch. 

And thus concludes my prior experience making pudding. As you can imagine, I had really no idea what I was getting into with Alison’s pudding. And yes, I made a big mistake. Hopefully my writing about it helps someone avoid the same. 

Making pudding from scratch is far different from making pudding from a box (duh). Pudding from scratch happens in multiple steps and with lots and lots of whisking by hand. The first step is to whisk egg yolks, cornstarch, and sugar together until pale and fluffy. After just three or so minutes of whisking, my arm already felt tired. Thankfully Jordan stepped in to get the egg yolks to that dull yellow color and speckled with tiny air bubbles. 

Now it’s time to simultaneously heat and continuously whisk the dairy, which is where I spent most of my time, and made my grand mistake. I poured heavy cream, sugar, coconut milk, a tiny dash of ground turmeric (for color, I think), and vanilla extract into a pot, and stirred everything slowly until it came to a light simmer. Stirring helps prevent any cream from curdling. In order to warm the egg mixture before pouring it all into the hot cream, Alison instructs us to pour half of the cream into the eggs and mix them first. We want to avoid the eggs going into shock and scrambling when they hit the heat, so we need to gradually get them warmed up. Kind of like dipping your toe in the jacuzzi to adjust, before submerging yourself all the way. Once warm, then I poured all of that creamy, eggy stuff back into the pot on the stove over medium heat. 

Now here’s where the confusion began. Here’s what the cookbook says: 

“Stir the warmed egg yolk mixture into the pot with the cream and, whisking constantly, cook until it thickens and starts to bubble up and look like something that is so hot it could hurt you if it touched your skin (it can, so be careful!!!), 3 to 5 minutes.” 

So I’m waiting for it to “thicken” and look “hot” and start to ”bubble up…” Not the most helpful visual cues to watch for, but fine, I’ll roll with it. The 3 minute mark hits. Then the 5. There’s steam coming off the top and some tiny bubbles rising to the surface. Is that what she means by hot and bubble up? I’ll let it go a minute longer…. 7 minute mark hits, and still more steam and tiny bubbles. The liquid is a bit thicker than when I started. Now, I’m well past the time limit, so I figured the pudding must be ready. I removed the pot from the heat, and per the instructions, poured the mixture into a 9x13 baking dish and stuck it into the fridge to chill “for at least one hour.”

An hour goes by, and the pudding, or should I say, slightly thickened liquid, is still warm. Another hour goes by, and the slightly thickened liquid is room temperature. A third hour goes by, and though the liquid is cold, there’s still one major problem…. It’s liquid. Wasn’t it supposed to thicken up and feel like pudding by now? I did what I always do in situations like this: I called Margaret.

Margaret, knower of most things cooking. Experienced cook, baker, and thankfully, pudding maker. I told Margaret all about my dilemma. How I followed the instructions, how I thought the pudding looked ready for chilling based on the book’s description, and how I still had a baking dish filled with cold liquid in my refrigerator. “Ah,” she said, “you just didn’t cook it long enough.” But I cooked it 2 minutes longer than what Alison said? “It always takes longer than they tell you it will.” Margaret, of all people, would know this. Then she told me what to look for beyond heat and bubbles. 

I hung up the phone, poured all of the liquid back into the pot, and turned the burner dial to medium heat. It took about 10 minutes of heat and constant stirring to get the mixture back to the temperature it was before I chilled it. At this point, I applied Margaret’s tips. It took another 13 minutes before I had a viable “pudding.”

For those of you who plan to make this pudding recipe, here are some helpful (for me, at least) details to add to Alison’s instructions. 

• Once the egg/cream mixture is poured back in the pot, it could take anywhere from 8 to 15 minutes of constant stirring to achieve the right consistency. 

• Beyond heat and bubbles, you’ll know the pudding is ready when:

  • You drag your whisk across the liquid and it creates a ribbon pattern on the surface. 

  • Your whisk meets resistance as it stirs. 

  • The pudding can coat the back of a spoon. 

  • The pudding feels mostly like pudding. It’ll thicken up a bit more as it chills, but you want to achieve most of the pudding consistency while over the stove. 

My second attempt was successful. But by that point, I didn’t have enough time to let it chill and assemble the dessert layers before going to a NYE gathering. So I left the pudding to chill for the night and assembled everything the next afternoon. 

I managed to fit four layers of: pudding, vanilla wafers (I used GF wafers found at Whole Foods), banana slices tossed in lime juice (to prevent browning), and whipped cream, in my serving bowl. I sliced all 6 bananas per the instructions, but ended up using about four and a half. I served the pudding as dessert with Alison’s Pizza Night, and the leftovers the next evening with Alison’s Ricotta-Stuffed Shells (post to come). 

Despite the hullabaloo, this dessert is delicious. And addicting. 

Pro tip: If banana flavor isn’t your favorite, just know that the longer the pudding sits in the fridge, the stronger the banana flavor becomes. I don’t mind that, but some will. Also, lime juice truly does prevent bananas from browning. Who knew?

204 recipes cooked, 21 to go.

Creamy Cauliflower and Onion Gratin & Cumin-Roasted Cauliflower and Dates with Tahini and Pine Nuts by Alison Roman

I admit that cauliflower isn’t my favorite vegetable. It probably ranks #10 in my top ten. It has very little flavor and too much fiber for its own good. Cauliflower can only wow me if it’s been given a glow up by other definitive flavors. There are many ways to doctor up these bland little trees, and the two recipes mentioned here are perhaps the tastiest cauliflower recipes I’ve cooked to date. 

(Side note: I firmly believe cauliflower should not be “riced” — rice grains are rice. Don’t mess with a beautiful thing.)

The cauliflower gratin adds red pepper flakes and a whole lot of dairy to help spice things up. At first, I was intimidated by the way the cauliflower is cut — in half inch thick disks. The picture in the book shows a perfect spindly flower fitting into a 9inch cake pan, and I wondered if I could attempt the same thing. Turns out, it’s not that hard! You just need a long, sharp knife and steady hand. The cauliflower is layered with cheese and poured over with a mix of cream and melted butter. Once baked and bubbly, that’s really all there is to it. 

One miss for me is Alison‘s lack of salting directions. It’s not like her to skip telling you to add salt and pepper at pretty much every step in a recipe. Here, she didn’t add salt to the layers of cauliflower, (just to the cream and cheese) and I felt the dish was overall under salted. So feel free to add a small sprinkling of salt over each layer of cauliflower. 

I skipped the breadcrumbs in this go around, but would recommend adding them for textural contrast and added saltiness. Also, my cream mixture never solidified in any real way. I’m not sure if I didn’t keep in the oven for long enough, or if the cream should truly stay in liquid form, but beware if you plan to bake and then transport this dish to a Friendsgiving — cream WILL spill out the sides if you’re not careful. 

Above all, the cumin-roasted cauliflower recipe truly wins the contest (yep, it’s a contest now). I made it as our vegetable side dish for Thanksgiving, and much to my surprise, Jordan said it was his favorite part of the entire meal. We had Alison’s stuffing, a turkey, two kinds of potatoes, and still, he liked the cauliflower the most. Believe me when I say, that’s a powerful statement coming from him. 

What made the cumin roasted cauliflower so great was the variety of flavors and textures used. Cauliflower gets broken down into tiny florets and roasted with cumin seeds until crispy and charred in some places. Part way through, dates are added to the roasting sheet, bringing a sweetness that nicely contrasts with the acid from the white wine vinegar and creaminess of the tahini. Cilantro makes this dish sing. I admit to skipping mint and pine nuts due to cost, but in no way did I feel like this dish lacked anything. Mint and pine nuts would have only elevated it further. 

178 and 179 recipes cooked, 46 to go.

The Greatest Creamed Greens by Alison Roman

What can I say about creamed greens? Alison speaks of them like they’re classic American food. Like anyone who’s had a steak and a baked potato has also had creamed greens. Apparently every good steakhouse serves them? Either I’ve never been to a proper steakhouse, or my mother’s aversion to cooking anything with excess fat or olive oil has kept me from experiencing the richness of some creamed greens. 

But for a first eating of creamed greens, I’ll say Alisons’ were pretty great. 

The recipe begins with breadcrumbs, as all good recipes tend to do. Crisp up fresh crumbs in oil, salt and pepper to a golden perfection. I might go wild next time and add some Aleppo pepper to the crumbs for a bit more heat. 

Next, bring heavy cream to a simmer and drop in several smashed garlic cloves and a dash of nutmeg (yes, nutmeg). Alison calls for freshly grated nutmeg, but I want to know who, if anyone ever, has made this recipe with fresh nutmeg. Where would one find such a thing? And who has the time? I don’t think she’d mind using ground nutmeg… the title of her other cookbook is “nothing fancy” after all. This creamy deliciousness cooks down to a thicker sauce that truly tastes like Alfredo (even though no cheese is involved!). The whole process took about 20 minutes. 

In the meantime, cook down two bunches of Dino kale. At first, I thought, this is too much kale! But no. It’s perfect. It cooks down so much that you’re left with a medium sized bowl that’s halfway full of them by the end. The key here is to cook them in batches at a medium temp, so they don’t overcrowd or get browned. Once wilted, stir in the cream sauce and creme fraiche. 

Ah, creme fraiche. The golden ingredient of every recipe it’s in. If Alison can claim these are the “greatest” creamed greens, it’s because of this ingredient, which adds a tangy depth without making it all taste even heavier. Creme fraiche is unskippable, so don’t even think about jettison-ing it. A mandatory fancieness. 

164 recipes cooked, 61 to go.

Clams and Cod in Heavy Cream with Tiny Potatoes and Celery by Alison Roman

While we’re on the subject, I have to tell you a quick anecdotal story about cod. I’ve been in the earth-shattering play, Peter Pan, twice in my life. One time I played Tiger Lilly, and the other I played Peter himself. Playing Peter was a highlight of my childhood acting career. I mean, who doesn’t want to play a character that flies, sword fights, and sings the most solos? Towards the middle of the play, there’s a scene where Peter is hiding from Captain Hook and decides to play tricks on him. He starts shouting ominous things at Hook, who doesn’t know where the voice is coming from. Terrified, he starts asking Peter, or “the voice,” what kind of creature they are. A rock? A mineral? An animal? A… cod fish? If the person playing Hook likes comedy, they’ll put a lot of emphasis on the word “cod” and the audience will chuckle. It’s a human voice, duh! You think a cod fish could talk like that? Silly Hook. 

Never before have I purchased or cooked cod fish. This being my first time asking for a cod filet at the seafood counter, I had half a mind to answer the counter worker’s question, “how can I help you?” by saying, “A….coooddd fish?” Oh the things my better judgment keeps me from doing! Thankfully, I did not startle the gal at Mariano’s or the seafood counter person at Whole Foods. Mariano’s only carries clams on occasion, but WF sells them reliably. 

I thoroughly enjoyed this clam chowder-esque dish, and in fact, enjoyed it more than regular chowder. I appreciated that the broth stays separate from the vegetables and seafood. No mushy cod or soggy potatoes to be found. Instead, the potatoes are cooking in oil, along with the celery, before any liquid joins the pan, which gives them a crispy and browned exterior. The wine and cream are added next, then the clams. Once the clams open up, the cod joins the pot last. I covered the pot and let things simmer just until the cod was cooked through, about 5 minutes. Which means it barely had time to fall apart. Somehow, eating a fishy-tasting fish is much more delightful if I can see the bite of fish on my fork, instead of scooping it in mush form with my spoon. I don’t think I’m alone in this? 

The lemon juice, red pepper flakes, and sourdough bread for dipping completed this dish. I could honestly eat a full meal of just bread soaked in the broth. It had the perfect cream to acid ratio with a subtle heat kick at the end. The clams added a salty textural contrast that complemented the broth perfectly. Next time I could do without the cod. It added a fishiness that seemed to subtract, rather than add, enjoyment. However it did add substance. So pick your poison on that one. 

162 recipes cooked, 63 to go.

Baked Summer Squash with Cream and Parmesan Bread Crumbs by Alison Roman

Wait... Annie. I thought you were cow’s dairy free? Why did you make this dish with heavy cream and parmesan cheese? 

Thanks for that thoughtful question. I made it and ate it because there are some things worth breaking the rules for. And for me, that list includes creamy baked squash with sourdough, parmesan bread crumbs. A girl’s gotta have standards. This is one of mine. 

First, I prepared the sourdough breadcrumbs. I had the stale ends to an old loaf I’d made a few weeks prior and pulsed them in a food processor until they were not too small, but not too big. (It’s all about precision for me.) Then I combined the crumbs with salt, pepper, aleppo pepper, freshly grated garlic, and a half cup of parmesan cheese. I set this aside. 

The recipe calls for about a pound of summer squash, which for me came down to 2 large-ish zucchinis. The quartered them and laid them in a 2-qt. dish. I poured a cup of heavy cream, some dried oregano (sorry, I didn’t have the bandwidth to buy fresh), and some olive oil. Then I sprinkled the bread crumbs over the top of the zucchini. As the dish bakes, the creamy gets bubbly, the parmesan melts, and the sourdough bread crumbs turn a golden brown. It was worth every bite. 

While squash is especially in season during the summer, it’s also around in the fall. I think this would be a lovely side dish on a night when the weather starts to chill and the leaves start to turn. A marriage of seasons in a baking dish. Or a sign of transition between them. (And a delicious sign at that!)

87 recipes cooked, 138 to go.