Sardines Two Ways: Oil-Roasted with Mayo and Pickled Onions, & Pan-Fried with Fried Lemon by Alison Roman

This is a GUEST POST by the one, the extraordinary, Margaret Winchell. As she will soon note below, we struuuuuggled to find fresh sardines. Calling many fish mongerers in Chicago and Michigan proved fruitless, so Margaret got creative. She went out of her way to find fish and friends to eat it, and wrote about it all with her signature spunk and knowledgeable tips

Margaret, thanks for being a #1 supporter of me and this project, in word and in deed. You’re my true friend.

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Let’s get this out of the way: I made two recipes that call for fresh sardines without fresh sardines. If I were a recipe writer, I would roll my eyes at me. But Annie and I both looked high and low for whole, fresh sardines - she, in Chicago, and me, in southwestern Michigan, and we found none. Alison repeatedly notes how oily sardines are, so I planned to sub in a different oily fish. My first choice was mackerel because my research showed them to be similar enough, but that was also not available! So: here we are with rainbow trout. 

While I was working on these dishes, I kept asking myself, how much do you get to deviate from a recipe before you have to acknowledge that you’re making a different dish? I don’t have a strict rule, but this feels like it’s pushing it. I invited two of my best grad school pals over for “Fish Night” on our first day of classes. Here’s what we ate:

Oil-Roasted Sardines with Mayonnaise, Pickled Onions, and Lots of Parsley

*Bonus go-with recipe: Mayo for people who don’t like mayo

Pan-Fried Sardines with Fried and Salted Lemon

Overnight Focaccia, Tonight

Roasted Broccolini

Boiled baby yellow potatoes (they’re great with aioli!)

…and it was a totally fine fish night menu! The win here really was the combination of flavors and textures on the table. Assembling little bites of focaccia-fish-aioli-pickled onion or potato-fish-lemon-broccolini is so satisfying to me because it feels like you get to do an activity while you eat. It’s entertaining to build tiny food towers! 

oil-roasted trout

The oil-roasted fish was nothing to write home about, but with the accoutrements, it didn’t really matter. What made me grumpy is that Alison has you use a whole head of garlic and several sprigs of thyme that never really make their presence known in the fish. She has you cut the garlic head in half lengthwise and put it and the thyme in the pan with the sardines (trout) while they roast, but they only bake for 15-20 minutes. This wasn’t long enough for the garlic to be really roasted (and thus edible as a side), and the garlic and thyme didn’t make enough contact with the oil for it to serve as a useful conduit for the flavors. I wondered why she didn’t have you smash several cloves of garlic and scatter them around the pan, or even give them a head start in the oil in a saucepan before roasting. The skin on my trout also didn’t get very crispy with her method, but that might have been different with sardines.

Now about the mayo: this is aioli. They are the same thing, but if your goal is to make a “mayo for people who don’t like mayo,” you bypass so many obstacles by calling it “aioli.” But whatever you call it, it’s a little tricky! There was a span of a few weeks early in high school when I encountered several recipes for mayo or aioli that came with a disclaimer of “people think this is hard, but my method is foolproof!” (Often said about making mayo in a blender.) Yeah, OK. They were not foolproof. But this mayo went just fine! She has you use two egg yolks, which is more than you need for this amount of oil, but I described it to Annie over the phone as an insurance policy.

Let’s take a detour for a primer on emulsions! Mayo, aioli, creamy salad dressings, and many other sauces are emulsions. This just means it’s a homogeneous mixture of oil and water. In order to get oil and water to combine and not separate, you need an emulsifier (like an egg yolk) to serve as a mediator between oil and water and help them get along. In making mayo, you start with an egg yolk, often with a little mustard and some lemon juice, and very gradually whisk in oil. The first time I made it successfully, I got my station set up, called my friend Amy, and put her on speaker so I could have both hands free for drizzling and whisking. I was so paranoid about going too fast with the oil integration that I paced it out over the course of a whole hour. This time, I called Annie and did it in about 15 minutes. This is growth!

Last thoughts on aioli: it’s tough to gauge seasoning on a condiment. I tasted the aioli on its own a few times and kept wanting more acid and more salt, so I added them, and I’m glad I did. But when I put the aioli in the fridge for a bit while I worked on the other dishes, I wasn’t convinced it was going to have enough spunk. It’s just so unctuous! It’s hard to ever taste it and say, “I want a big spoonful of that in my mouth NOW.” So, if you make aioli, go farther than you think you should on acid and salt, but also bear in mind what it will accompany. The lemon slices and pickled onions did a lot of work here in balancing out the creamy aioli, but if I were serving it with something less zippy, I would want the aioli to be more assertive.

pan-fried trout

For fish on its own, we all preferred the pan-fried fish with fried and salted lemon. I took a bite and said, “This tastes like dessert fish!” I know this sounds weird. But! Alison has you fry lemon slices in some browned butter until the whole thing is deep and caramelly. The skin on the fish gets crackly in the pan-frying. And the other lemon slices are quick-cured in salt and sumac. When you put it all together, you have caramel notes from the brown butter, a salty-acidic pop from the sumac lemons, and crispiness from the fish skin. It could so be a lemon pastry. 

212 and 213 recipes cooked, 12 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.

Pizza Night by Alison Roman

Gosh, I love pizza. And this was really good pizza. I saved this recipe for the end of the project, knowing I’d need something to look forward to amidst all the seafood. 

The dough is made using Alison’s Overnight Focaccia, Tonight recipe. I wrote a funky stream-of-consciousness essay about that focaccia here. The dough is proved and ready for baking within about 3 hours of starting the recipe. So, hoping to eat at 6:00pm, I started the dough at 3:00pm. 

While the dough rose, I made Alison’s simple tomato sauce. And I’ll admit, it seemed almost too simple. A few smashed garlic cloves, a can of tomatoes, salt and pepper. I don’t want to make tomato sauce complicated, but would this have enough flavor? The answer is most certainly, yes. She’s not specific about salt amounts, so I used 1 tsp., in keeping with the fairly simple tomato sauce recipe I love from Julia Turshen’s “Small Victories.” The sauce needs only a half hour or so to thicken up a bit and let the garlic infuse the tomatoes. I didn’t have whole peeled tomatoes on hand, just diced. Once the tomatoes were warmed through, I crushed them against the side of the pot with the back of a wooden spoon to achieve a similar texture and consistency. 

I love how simple, yet effective Alison’s topping suggestions are. Little is required to prep them beyond slicing a red onion and tearing up pieces of kale. She leaves all the work for the assembly, which is the most fun part any way. This recipe creates two pizzas, however I wanted to cook them one at a time. Stacking two baking sheets in my oven makes everything take longer and cook more imprecisely. To stagger the pizzas, I separated the dough in two after the second rise and put half in the fridge, covered in saran wrap. I let the first dough prove on a baking sheet, then topped it for baking about 35 minutes later. 

The first pizza was Alison’s Pepperoni Pie, and I followed it to a tee: tomato sauce, mozzarella, pepperoni, red onion, olive oil drizzled over the crust, then sprinkled with flaky salt. The instructions say to bake for 30 to 35 minutes. I removed my pie in 30 minutes, and found that the crust got a little overbaked. It was rather tough to bite into. I course-corrected the second pie and took it out in 27 minutes. The crust was comparatively easier to chew, but still achieved that toasty, golden look. 

While the pepperoni pie baked in the oven, I let the second dough prove on a sheet pan for the other pizza: Lemony Greens Pie. Jordan and I are big “meat on my pizza” people, so I was shocked to hear that both he and one of our dinner guests preferred this pizza over the pepperoni pie. I was worried that this pie wouldn’t have much going for it, flavor-wise, but I was wrong. 

I followed Alison’s topping list again: whole milk ricotta, topped with torn kale massaged in olive oil, grated parmesan, red onion, olive oil drizzled over the crust, then sprinkled with flaky salt. I also added red pepper flakes for a touch of heat. After the pizza came out of the oven, I topped it with parsley and lemon juice, plus a few finely chopped anchovies. The kale comes out partially crisped, and the parmesan becomes sort of crunchy and golden. Lemon juice really unites the ingredients and makes them taste brighter. 

I served the pizzas with Alison’s Crushed Peas and Burrata Salad (a great combo!), and her Coconut Banana Cream Pudding (post to come). 

This recipe has inspired me to get more creative and adventurous with my pizzas. Homemade pizza using store-bought dough is a common meal in our home, and I tend to use the same topping combinations each time. I’m excited to start using more variations per Alison’s list of toppings and improvise with what I have on hand. For example, I recently purchased a bag of nutritional yeast that I should try sprinkling on top of my next pizza. I doubt I’ll make her dough many more times, as I don’t love the way the crust turned out more crunchy than chewy. I think the Whole Foods brand of pizza dough cooks perfectly and takes far less effort. But that dough, topped with Alison’s topping combos? Now that’s a pizza night I look forward to.  

203 recipes cooked, 22 to go.

One Pot Chicken with Caramelized Lemon and Dates

I made this chicken on January 23, 2021, along with Alison’s Butter-Tossed Radishes and Garlicky Broccoli with Hazelnuts and Coriander. They were among the very first recipes I made from Alison’s books after receiving them as Christmas presents. Cooking this One Pot Chicken was only my third or fourth time ever roasting a whole chicken, and I reveled in this new skill, and the courage it took to acquire it. (Raw chicken used to really freak me out.)

This early meal provided the inspiration for this project. I had never made a meal using three brand new recipes and found each one to be out of my comfort zone, complex and innovative in flavor, and surprisingly straightforward to cook – all at once. I tasted Za’atar for the first time. I embarked on my first ingredient scavenger hunt to find ground sumac. I’d never thought a flavorful chicken could require so few ingredients. And how many times had I made roasted broccoli before? Alison’s recipe provided a major upgrade to a weekly dinner staple. Never had I learned so much by making a single meal. It was invigorating! 

I still hadn’t fully conceived the structure of the Annie and Alison blog. I had ideas, but nothing I’d formally committed to. I knew taking pictures would be an important element of blogging, but didn’t think to capture a bunch of this meal. Four days later, I put pen to paper in earnest and decided to tell friends and family about the cooking challenge. At which point, I told myself I’d remake this One-Pot Chicken so I could get better pictures. 

Well, here we are almost a year later, only 29 days left of the project, and I still haven’t recaptured this dish. Which I feel just fine about. Alison’s One Pot Chicken is, in my opinion, one of her most recognized recipes. She’s made a Home Movie about it, A Newsletter about it, and there are hundreds of images of other people making it on Instagram. Do I really need to add my own to that library? I don’t think so. 

There’s also not a whole lot more I can say about it that hasn’t already been said in the aforelinkedto media, so I’ll leave my story here: This chicken marks the beginning of one of the best creative endeavors of my life, and for that, it’ll always be special to me. 

197 recipes cooked, 28 to go.

can someone please tell me if they’ve ever successfully captured an appetizing picture of a raw chicken? thx.

Just-Cooked Cabbage with Anchovy and Lemon by Alison Roman

Every Monday morning, I lead a quick check-in meeting with my team at work. We all stand up in the conference room and say something about our weekend. Then we each share one thing we need to accomplish that week. A pseudo-scrum meeting, if you will. This week, as I sat on the train to work, I considered what question I’d ask the team to answer about their weekend. I landed on “tell us one yummy thing you ate or drank” and “tell us a color that best represents your weekend.” 

We went around the table and people shared about gimlets, chocolate tortes, and pizza. When it was my turn, I said the best thing I ate was a seared cabbage with anchovies and lemon. Everyone stared. A what? I went on to explain this recipe and what made it so tasty, but they remained largely skeptical. And I don’t blame them. 

This is one of those recipes I didn’t look forward to making and put it off to the end. I can tolerate cabbage when it’s mixed with other things (soup), or when it’s fermented (kimchi, sauerkraut). But a regular, cooked cabbage? That did not sound appetizing. It seems that Alison knew it was a stretch, too. She said this recipe barely made it in the book, but at the final hour, she decided it was too good to exclude. I think she knew just-cooked cabbage could be a hard sell for many cooks. 

I chose to cook a small, sweet cabbage, knowing Jordan and I couldn’t finish off an entire large bulb on our own. I quartered the cabbage and seared it in my cast iron skillet, roughly 6 minutes per side on medium-high heat. Alison says to salt and pepper the cabbage beforehand, but the salt just rolled right off onto the cutting board. I recommend waiting until it's cooked to season it. I melted the butter until foamy and slightly browned, then added the anchovies and let them shrink into tiny bits. I poured the buttery, salty liquid over the cabbage, squeezed half a lemon over the plate, and added flaky sea salt. 

I guess it’s hard to dislike melted butter with anchovies, no matter what you drizzle it over. Even a softened cabbage. And the lemon really takes it to another level. 

187 recipes cooked, 38 to go.