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.

Little Gems and Cabbage with Pickled Turnips and Lemony-Tahini Dressing by Alison Roman

What takes a salad from good to excellent? I have the same theory about excellent salads as I do about excellent granola: it’s all about an X-factor. An unexpected element that stops you mid-chew to say, “oo what’s that?” 

This salad has two X-factors: 

1. Pickled Turnips. I admit to making pickled turnips for this salad, twice. The first time was in June. I thought I’d make this salad *at some point* this summer. And every time I thought about making it, I only had half of the veggies needed to complete the recipe on hand. By the time August rolled around, it was time to pack up our apartment to move to Chicago. When I cleaned out the fridge and unearthed my oft forgotten turnips, I realized I’d need to try this one again. (Note to self: don’t buy/prep ingredients for something if you don’t have a date on the calendar to make it.)

   The first time I pickled turnips, I made two mistakes. I pickled three of them, AND I chose to quarter them before pickling. That’s frankly too many turnips in too bulky of shapes. Last week, I bought only one medium-sized turnip and thinly sliced it before pickling. Why not slice it into its final form before pickling to make things easier? 

   Pickled turnips are kinda funky, and I don’t want them on everything I eat. But I do love their earthy, vinegary, pop of unexpected flavor in a salad like this. 

2. Lemony-Tahini Dressing. There’s nothing very new or extraordinarily innovative about this dressing; it’s just reliably good. Lemon juice, salt, tahini, olive oil, garlic and water. Tangy, nutty, and smooth. Everything you need to unify a verifiable mini garden of vegetables (little gems/romaine, cabbage, cucumbers, scallions, parsley, preserved lemon, and turnips).

My in-laws were over for dinner that night, and they finished off the entire plate of salad. I got as many compliments on it as I did Alison’s Low and Slow Rib Roast with Rosemary and Anchovy - which is saying something! 

Here marks another successful All-Out-Alison Meal: 

1. Little Gems and Cabbage with Pickled Turnips and Lemony Tahini Dressing

2. Leftover Thanksgiving mashed potatoes

3. Low and Slow Rib Roast with Rosemary and Anchovy 

4. Sheet Cake with Mascarpone and Coffee 

One of my favorite combinations to date. 

177 recipes cooked, 48 to go.

Grilled Artichokes with Preserved Lemon Yogurt by Alison Roman

I love a good artichoke. I love the activity of eating one almost as much as the taste of it, too. I first made artichokes with Alison’s Wine-Roasted Artichokes recipe, which taught me all about how to cut and prep them – it’s sort of an art form. These grilled artichokes required slightly less preparation (no stripping the outer layer of leaves), but they did require more time by way of steaming. For more tender artichokes, Alison asks you to steam them before grilling, which adds about an hour to the ordeal. 

To steam the artichokes, first cut the stem to a little less than an inch, and remove the top 1.5-2 inches of the bulb. Fill a medium pot with 2 inches of water, and place the artichokes stem-side down, with the bulbs poking well out of the water, so as not to water-log them. I highly recommend using 4 smaller artichokes as opposed to 2 large ones so that they stand more securely in the pot. Bring the water to a boil and then simmer for 50 to 60 minutes for large artichokes. For smaller artichokes, I found they were ready within 45 minutes, which you can test by seeing how easily an outer leaf comes off when tugging. 

The book does not specify whether the pot should be covered. However, the only way to create effective steam is to cover a pot to trap the moisture. The picture in her book shows a lid being lifted from the pot, so I took that as my confirmation to utilize a lid. 

While the artichokes steamed, I made the preserved lemon yogurt, which was just a combination of finely chopped preserved lemon, salt, pepper, and goat’s milk yogurt (or greek yogurt, sour cream or labne – you decide your destiny.) The yogurt serves as the artichoke dipping sauce. It also made a delicious sauce for dipping the roasted potatoes we had as an additional side at dinner. 

I steamed the artichokes just before packing up my meal ingredients and heading to my in-law’s home where they own a grill. Prior to grilling, the artichokes should be halved lengthwise and slathered with olive oil, salt, and pepper. They start cut-side down over medium-high heat. After 4 minutes (we waited until 6 minutes), flip them over to get equal charring on the back side for another 4 minutes. Bon appetit, they’re ready to serve! 

I must say, steaming the artichokes first made a giant difference in the tenderness of the leaves. They were easy to pull and eat, but not so soft that they fell limp when holding them. 

I served this dish with Alison’s Grilled Branzino with Lemons All of the Ways – an excellent pairing if you ask me. 

99 recipes cooked, 126 to go.

Grilled Branzino with Lemons All of the Ways by Alison Roman

Does the idea of cooking a whole fish intimidate you? Maybe gross you out a bit? It certainly did both for me. It’s those dead eyes staring at me from the seafood counter, like they know something. I didn’t grow up in a culture that ate much fish, let alone whole fish. Save for the once a year camping trips with amateur fishing attempts led by my more experienced uncles. If we ever caught anything notable, the prep and cooking was up to them. I wouldn’t get near my catch. 

This project has grown and stretched me in countless ways. This project asked me to cook a whole fish – and I’m so much the better for it. 

I started the journey at Whole Foods, where I purchased two pounds of branzino’s. I asked the man at the counter if the fish were “gutted and scaled,” just like Alison told me to. What those terms meant, I wasn’t totally sure. He picked up a fish and showed me how it had been cut open and gutted already, but then said it hadn’t been scaled. I asked him if he could do it for me, to which he replied with a reluctant nod. It took him about 4 minutes to scale both fish. He shaved the scales on either side with a small, sharp knife, and the scales flew everywhere. While watching him, I thanked my lucky stars that I didn’t have to do this in my kitchen and face the clean-up afterward.  

That afternoon, I prepped the preserved lemon relish by finely chopping a full preserved lemon (I had a jar of homemade ones that I preserved about three months ago). If you don’t have any preserved lemon on hand, you can find jars of them in the grocery store. To the relish I added grated garlic, olive oil, and white wine vinegar. And lots of pepper with a dash of salt. This relish was fantastic to pair with the salty, tender white fish. It absolutely completed the dish. 

Later that evening, I journeyed to my in-laws for more meal prep and dinner. They own a grill, so I’m making all of Alison’s grill recipes there this summer. Prepping the fish there was so simple. The fish were already cut from the gutting, so I simply placed a few thin lemon slices in each, then sprayed the outside of the fish with canola oil and sprinkled with salt and pepper. 

With the grill on medium-high heat, we placed the fish horizontally over the grate, with the backbone facing us. After 9 minutes, the skin was charred, crisped, and puffy. We were ready to flip it over. 8 more minutes and the fish was ready to serve! Alison asks you to grill a lemon for 5 minutes. We did this, but it didn’t add much more than aesthetic appeal, especially with the relish already on the side. 

The fish was perfectly moist, flaky and tender, and honestly barely tasted like actual fish. Jordan said this is his favorite “unexpected” meal of the project so far. Cooking a whole fish was SO much easier than it looked. So much more delicious than I anticipated. This dish made me feel like I can do anything! And you can too. 

98 recipes cooked, 127 to go.

Lamb Stew with Fennel, Preserved Lemon, and Crispy Fried Bread by Alison Roman

I was not in the mood for lamb stew. I was not in the mood for any kind of food. It was one of those days when hunger is present, but appetite is not. And perhaps the last thing that sounded good was lamb stew. But I spent $20 on a cut of boneless lamb shoulder and the expiration date was nearing (which causes me a particular kind of stress). I needed to make lamb stew. 

The first steps of the recipe requires some elbow grease. It begins by cutting the meat into two inch pieces, seasoning them with salt and pepper, and searing them until quite browned at the bottom of a dutch oven. While the meat is searing, a good bit of chopping and measuring take place. Chopping includes a fennel bulb, multiple garlic cloves and two shallots. Measuring includes cumin seeds, fennel seeds, and tomato paste. After the meat is the proper color and any excess fat is drained off, the chopped ingredients and seasoning spend time in the pot to warm and turn fragrant. Then a half cup of dry white wine deglazes the pot as you scrape up all the burned bits from the bottom. At this stage, the smells wafting up from the pot brought back about 10% of my appetite. 

Next, a can of crushed tomatoes and six cups of water join the stew. Seasoned with salt and pepper, the liquid is set to medium-low heat, and the meat becomes tender as it braises for two and a half hours. As time goes on, the stew thickens and the meat loses its toughness. Another 10% of my appetite returned as I pulled a chunk of lamb apart with my fork, requiring minimal effort to do so. 

As the stew nears completion, it’s back on your feet to make a batch of fried bread. Alison suggests a “country loaf,” but I chose some leftover homemade sourdough. I tore several slices into large-ish chunks and placed them in a skillet with sizzling olive oil. Without pressing the bread down too much so as not to lose any volume, the bread fries and turns a light golden brown. Seasoned with salt and Aleppo pepper, these giant stewtons (get it? Stew-croutons? ok) provide the perfect salty, chewy contrast to the tomatoey, tangy stew and gamey lamb. The final element is preserved lemon – which brightens everything nicely.  

My appetite never fully showed up that day, but I still greatly enjoyed this stew – far more than I expected. Jordan especially loved it. 

I’ll make this again next winter - it would be a lovely snow day meal. 

60 recipes cooked, 165 to go.