Chicories with Anchovy Bread Crumbs (and Egg Yolk) by Alison Roman

Before making this recipe, I had no idea what radicchio, endives, or chicories were. I couldn’t pick them out of a line-up if I tried. 

Okay, now I’m imagining a bunch of vegetables all standing in a long line and making small talk with each other... 

Celery: “Ey Tomato, why you gotta be so short?”

Tomato: “Don’t make me get red in the face!” 


Cucumber: “Hey there, gourdgeous!”

Gourd: “Well you’re lookin’ mighty cuke yourself!” 


Radicchio: “Endive, why are you so bitter?”

Endive: “I could ask you the same question!”

Radicchio: “Is it because we’re both in the chicory family?”

Endive: “Could be… but what’s chicory ever done to you?”


I’ll stop. But honestly I did have to Google these leafy greens to know what I was searching for. And good thing I did because neither radicchio NOR endive, both of which belong to the chicory family, are green! 

This may be one of the more aesthetically pleasing salads I’ve ever assembled, but sadly that didn’t mean it was the most tasty. Both radicchio and endives are quite bitter, which means I would personally pair them with a vinaigrette that’s on the sweeter side for balance. Instead, this recipe calls for an equally bitter dressing made of olive oil, lemon juice and mustard. For Jordan, the bitterness was simply too overpowering and he chose not to eat it. 

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The dressed leaves are topped with anchovy bread crumbs and raw egg yolks. Now, if you read the Kimchi-Braised Pork essay, you’ll know that raw egg yolks are not my thing, so it would be no surprise that I skipped them here, too. 

Homemade bread crumbs, on the other hand, are most definitely up my alley, and will never be skipped if I can help it. These bread crumbs have an added twist: before adding the freshly pulsated crumbs to the frying pan, several anchovies and some olive oil are cooked down into a paste, which then soaks into the crumbs. This gives them an extra umami; a slightly fishy but wonderfully salty edge that makes them contribute more than simply adding texture. I really enjoyed this crumb recipe twist. However, a slightly fishy bread crumb paired with a very bitter salad, is not my ideal combination. 

Would the called-for addition of egg yolk have changed my mind? I don’t think so. Looking back, I do think the fix could have been as simple as adding a bit of honey or sugar to the vinaigrette. I did eat my full plate of salad, but I can’t say it was enjoyable. Nevertheless, there are several more, what Alison calls “knife-and-fork” salads, left to make, and I have hope that I’ll find success with at least one of them. I mean, they’re from Alison Roman. How could I not?

40 recipes cooked, 185 to go.

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Fennel and Grapefruit Salad with Honey and Mint by Alison Roman

This salad pleasantly surprised me, but it’s not a keeper. I like grapefruit and fennel, but I’d never think to eat them in the same bite. What makes them work together is, ironically, their juxtaposition. Grapefruit with the pith removed is bitter and sweet. It’s acidity is more overpowering than that of an orange, which delivers a sharpness unlike most other fruits. A fennel bulb offers a more subtle taste, akin to black licorice, or a salty star anise. The soft, juicy grapefruit pulp contrasts from the fennel bulb’s watery crunch, like a piece of celery. 

Even my memories and associations with each ingredient differ. When I think of a fennel bulb, I think of Thanksgiving dinner. My mom makes a wonderful fennel and sausage stuffing that uses the fennel bulb, seeds, and its leafy fronds. Our Thanksgivings were always spent at my Oma’s house in Pasadena, and each family was in charge of a different dish. Also, I firmly believe stuffing is the best part of a Thanksgiving meal, and no one can persuade me otherwise. I realize that is a controversial statement. Stuffing is polarizing. But it’s #mytruth.

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Grapefruit makes me think of coming home from college on winter break and laying out in my parent’s backyard. After a cold semester in Chicago, the 70-degrees-and-sunny weather of southern California always felt like a warm hug. I would spend my whole break sitting in the backyard, thawing out and eating citrus fruits: tangerines, mandarins with the stem and leaves still on, and big halved grapefruits with sugar sprinkled on top. 

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This backyard is my favorite place to be when I go home.

These two opposite ingredients need something to unite them, and Alison does so with a tangy vinaigrette. The dressing is made of lime juice, toasted fennel seeds, shallot, honey and sumac. In my opinion, this vinaigrette is the best part of the dish. I would even consider putting it on a different salad, perhaps a bowl of arugula. But while the flavors do work on the salad, they weren’t cohesive enough to make me want more than a small portion. I served this salad at a dinner with my in-laws, and noticed that no one wanted seconds. Important information!

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This salad must be consumed fresh. As I’ve mentioned before, I hate to waste food. However, this salad does not keep well at all into the second day. The juices run completely out of the grapefruit with time, and you’re left with chunks of bitter pulp mixed with softened, soggy fennel. Not a fun combination. So, if I make this salad again, it’ll be for a large gathering, so everyone can have a few bites, but doesn’t feel the need to eat a whole bowl. And hopefully, there won’t be leftovers to waste. 

16 recipes cooked, 209 to go.