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.

Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Hot Honey Butter and Beets with Buttermilk and Walnuts

“A Working Woman Makes Sides”

This is the story of a working woman who also has a slowly budding social life in a new city. Said woman has been invited with her husband to dinner at a friend's house. She was asked to bring one side dish, so naturally she opted to bring two of them. She chose Roasted Sweet Potatoes with Hot Honey Butter and Beets with Buttermilk and Walnuts by Alison Roman. 

Of course, this presents complications. With the dinner on a Friday in the city and her work out in the suburbs, she knew she’d have but 20 minutes to assemble the sides when she got home before travelling to dinner. The commute would take its toll once again. So she had to get creative. 

She chose to roast her beets in vinegar the night before. She let the little guys ooze their juices and soften while spending an hour in the oven. This, she thought, would put her in a good position for the next evening. 

The next evening arrived in the blink of an eye. Earlier that day, she asked her husband to put the sweet potatoes in the oven so they would be piping hot when she got home. He did this, kind man, but just as the working woman suspected, the oven turned into a big hot mess. This is no fault of the husband. He followed instructions to a tee. The issue stems from the woman not trusting her instincts. You see, the woman read a recipe that told her to put the sweet potatoes, poked by a fork all over, directly on the oven rack to roast. But in her heart she knew that the sugars from the potatoes would ooze out and burn, sticking to the oven with gusto. And she was right, and the oven became one hot mess, and it created many smoky problems for her the next day… but that’s another story for another time. 

The clock was now ticking to get things ready and whisked off to her friend's house. In a matter of minutes, she frantically completed the following tasks (though she’d like you to think she did this calmly and coolly with an heir of sophistication): 

• Toast walnuts on a baking sheet for ten minutes 

• Peel and slice the beets

• Measure buttermilk, yogurt and lemon juice in a bowl, stir and add salt and pepper

• Thinly slice a red onion and lightly pickle the slices in lemon juice and sumac 

• Melt butter and spices, adding vinegar and honey too

• Scrape out the meats of very hot sweet potatoes into a bowl, practically burning her fingertips in the process

• Place the beets in the bowl with buttermilk and sprinkle the onions over them

• Chop the toasted walnuts and sprinkle them over the beets too 

• Drizzle the butter mixture over the sweet potatoes and give them a good stir

• Add cumin seeds to the top of the bowl of beets and cover with saran wrap

• Cover the bowl of potatoes with foil and pack a half a lemon in a bag, along with flaky salt

• Decide she’ll worry about cleaning the oven later 

• Tell husband it’s time to go 

All these things she did in mere minutes. She feels some loss at the fact that these tasks bring her real joy and life, but she couldn’t find that joy because of the need to rush. She needed to rush because she works far away. And she wonders how to balance that work and that joy. Can the two meet, coexist? All this, she knew, would be figured out over time. For now, she chose to focus on the six friends in front of her and enjoy those slightly spicy, salty, sweet potatoes. She savored the night she had left. 

168 and 169 recipes cooked, 56 to go.

Overnight Focaccia, Tonight

(This is the third installment of the “Life is often a lot like” series. The other two installments are here and here.)

Life is often a lot like making focaccia bread. From the very beginning, you’re full of doubt. For one thing, the ingredients seem insufficient for the task. You struggle to imagine how tiny grains of yeast, water, oil, and flour can possibly form a pillowy dough large enough to fill a baking sheet. The tools before you feel lacking, which sometimes translates to the lie that you yourself are lacking. The lie is so potent, you consider forgoing bread for dinner altogether. I mean, think of the carbs. But also, think of all those delicious carbs…

Remember what Jill said, failure is where character is formed. Make the bread, learn the lesson, let the yeast do what it was created to do. With a heart divided between doubt and hope, you begin to whisk. Whisking water, yeast, and oil until well combined, nothing you haven’t done before.

Now to add the flour. Five cups of bread flour. You scoop one half cup at a time, feigning carefulness. When really one large dumping of flour would yield the same result. Doubt creeps in again. That’s a lot of dry flour for that amount of liquid. You struggle to incorporate it all with your wooden spoon. You put your whole body to work, leaning into the stirring, the scraping up of dry bits of flour, the combining of a craggy mess. Everything’s a mess. Where’s my apron? Now for a big decision: follow your instinct to add a teaspoon of water for those last grains of flour or forgo your idea for the sake of following instructions. What happens when the rules go against your sense of right and wrong? Which do you discard? Worry about the moral implications of that question later. You’re making focaccia, remember? You add the teaspoon of water before you can face more doubt, and move onto what you, and the bread, require: rest.

Rest for a whole hour. Cover it with plastic and let time carry the weight of the process. Sometimes doing nothing is the most productive decision of all. Funny how often you forget that truth. An hour later, and the dough has indeed doubled in size. You sprinkle your counter with flour and knead the dough, pushing it with your palm and letting it fold onto itself. Over and over, and quickly, until the surface appears smooth and elastic. You coat the bowl with olive oil and put the dough back down for another nap. You’re still surprised that the dough doubles in size, though it’s only because yeast keeps doing it’s job. Me of little faith.

Light, airy, and sticky, you turn the dough out on a well-oiled baking sheet, pushing it out to the edges, so it can rest for one final hour. If there’s one lesson to learn from bread, it’s that good things happen to those who nap.

Turn on the oven, slice an onion, have flaky salt and more oil at the ready. You play the risen dough like a piano, plucking keys, pressing your fingertips to dimple the surface. Scatter the remaining ingredients and watch as the bread turns a golden brown. You spy on the baking bread and wonder why you ever doubted those tiny grains of yeast. After all, you’ve been told your whole life that, “though she be little, she is fierce.” 

146 recipes cooked, 79 to go.

Coconut-Braised Chicken with Chickpeas and Lime by Alison Roman

I’ll admit I came to this recipe with a bit of healthy skepticism. An Indian-Korean fusion dish sounded nice in theory, but could gochujang and cumin really go well together? Thank goodness it’s in Alison we trust (at least when it comes to cooking). I didn’t have to taste this dish to know my doubts were laid to rest. I simply had to smell it… 

This recipe calls for a mix of bone-in, skin-on chicken parts. Instead of trying to cut up a whole chicken myself this time, I bought 1.7 pounds each of legs and breasts. Which turned out to be a good call. With so much rich coconut milk, a darker meat, like thighs, would have felt too heavy. The whiter meat soaked in the fatty coconut and strong spices nicely. But I’m getting ahead of myself… 

The first twenty minutes were spent browning the chicken in my dutch oven, trying to render as much fat as possible. Sadly, much of the skin stuck to my pot, ripping off the skin as I took it out. I kept the heat at medium, like Alison says, and used canola oil too. Perhaps it’s my pot? Maybe the heat was still too high? 

With the chicken browned and the fat rendered, the chicken lies in waiting on a plate while garlic and onion spend time softening in the fat. Then joins the spice brigade: gochujang (Korean chili paste -- find this at Whole Foods or H-Mart), ginger (freshly grated), turmeric (I used the ground kind), cumin, and red pepper flakes. This is one powerful combination, and each spice is essential to the end result, adding dynamic heat, floral and earthy tones, and acidic tang (gochujang is fermented). The spices took no time at all to become fragrant. I added two cans of coconut milk next, along with chicken broth. I’ve recently taken after my pal Margaret and stopped buying cartons of chicken broth. Instead, I bought a Costco-sized jar of Better Than Bouillion and add one teaspoon at a time to boiling water before I start any recipe that requires chicken broth. It takes no time at all to make my own, plus it’s more fridge-space efficient and environmentally friendly! 

I submerged the chicken in the liquid, and sprinkled in a drained can of chickpeas. Now for the fun part: put on the lid and walk away. Forty-five minutes later, the smells of spice and coconut are frankly irresistible. But the stew needs more time. I removed the lid and let everything simmer for another half hour. You’ll know it’s ready when the chicken meat can practically fall off the bone with the smallest nudge. 

Toppings can make or break a dish. Good thing Alison’s suggestions make this dish a hundred times better: namely lime juice (use it liberally), fresh cilantro (sprinkle it freely), and thinly sliced red onions (enjoy). These three elements elevated the dish from being too heavily dominated by the coconut milk and chicken fat. I made the effort to chop up more for leftovers too – they’re that essential. For the record, Alison suggests fish sauce and peanuts as well, but I felt they were unnecessary. 

This dish is hands-down in my top three Alison-chicken dishes. It requires moderate effort and skill for such flavorful and filling results. Plus, I’m a huge fan of Indian and Korean flavors, so it’s no surprise that this dish won me over. The other top two are her Slow-Roasted Oregano Chicken with Buttered Tomatoes (no surprise there), and Crispy Chicken Legs with Rosemary, Tiny Potatoes, and Sour Cream. I also love when a dish makes enough for leftovers. Quick tip: before storing the rest in a container, try separating all of the chicken from the bones. It takes about ten minutes, but it makes eating leftovers effortless, and less messy. You’ll thank yourself later. 

140 recipes cooked, 85 to go.

Citrusy Cucumbers with Red Onion and Toasted Sesame by Alison Roman

The first time I ate this salad was actually at my dear pal Kailey’s apartment. In fact, Kailey is one of the reasons I began this project. Since moving to Minneapolis, we’ve become really close -- the ease of our friendship matching that of other decades-old friends of mine. Kailey is a talented cook and owns both of Alison’s cookbooks. When we started hanging out at her apartment, I would steal one to peruse while she made me dinner. Eventually she let me take Dining In home for a few weeks, and that’s what inspired me to ask for it for Christmas! The rest, as they say, is history… 

Jordan and I both really liked this salad, which in my opinion is a win, because he hasn’t loved too many of Alison’s salads thus far. This salad is supposed to serve 4, but we ate all of it for dinner. Except the red onion. There was too much red onion in my opinion… 

The salad is simple. Red onion soaked in ice water to remove its bite. Thinly sliced cucumbers marinated in lemon juice, zest, and sumac. A creamy tahini spread at the base of the bowl. Drizzled with olive oil and toasted sesame seeds. Perfect for pairing with lamb, falafel, steak, chicken, the list goes on. I made this with Melissa Clark’s jalapeno honey steak and jasmine rice. It’s subtlety will complement a variety of bold flavors. I’ll definitely make this again!

74 recipes cooked, 151 to go.