Escarole with Mustard and Spicy Guanciale Bread Crumbs by Alison Roman

This is the kind of salad I could eat all the time. Texture for days, vinegary and spicy overtones, and bread crumbs. I mean, does it get better than that? 

For some people, it does. Jordan didn’t love this salad. For him, the whole grain mustard was too strong. Once he said this, I had to somewhat agree with him. I love mustard, but I could have done with about half the amount. 

The base of this salad is escarole, a member of the chicory family (see this post for fun facts and a corny joke about chicories). Chicories have a signature bitterness and their leaves are usually very soft to the touch. Escarole is less bitter than radicchio and has the texture of butter lettuce. Still, its bite required something fatty to balance it. 

Enter guanciale, the fattier cousin of pancetta. Sadly, I could not find guanciale in stores. I was really looking forward to trying it, but had to settle with a box of diced pancetta. Not ideal, but still a fatty pork alternative. I sauteed the pancetta over medium-low heat for about 20 minutes, allowing the fat to render before the pork got too crispy. Once there was enough fat in the pan, I added a cup of fresh sourdough breadcrumbs and chile flakes, and let them toast until golden brown. However, because I used pancetta, there wasn’t enough fat to soak all of the crumbs, and I had to add a little olive oil to make up the difference. 

Thinly sliced shallot adds a fabulous crunch. The shallot rings are first marinated in a few tablespoons of white wine vinegar. Alison suggests at least 10 minutes, but I say the longer the better so they get more pickle-y. 

Just before serving, I tossed the shallot, whole grain mustard, guanciale bread crumbs, parsley, and escarole together, and drizzled it with olive oil. Like I said, Jordan wasn’t a huge fan. But I loved it. I had two servings for dinner and ate the rest of it for lunch the next day. It made for really good leftovers. The leaves didn’t get too soggy and the shallot continued to pickle overnight. 

I served this salad with another round of Alison’s incredible Crispy Chicken Legs.

73 recipes cooked, 152 to go.

Lemony Watercress with Raw and Toasted Fennel by Alison Roman

Raw fennel and I started out on rocky ground. I wanted to like her, but found her crisp structure a little too firm for a salad and her flavor a little too potent on its own. Fennel has a lot of licorice and anise type notes, which can either add depth to a dish, or overpower everything. 

The other partakers in this salad would probably argue that the raw fennel fell into its overpowering role. I, however, felt differently. For me, the key was the thinness of the fennel slices. I focused really hard on shaving the fennel with my knife, so that each slice was practically transparent. By slicing the fennel as thin as possible, it seemed to complement rather than control the dish. Each bite had only hints of licorice. Which made it all the more exciting to me. 

It was clear that I was the only one who loved it, because I was the only one who reached for seconds, and offered to eat it the next day as leftovers. But that’s alright. Not all salads can please all people. 

If the fennel didn’t scare you off by now, I’ll tell you about the rest of the salad! The other major player is watercress, which I found at Whole Foods (surprise, surprise). The greens are dressed with a very simple dressing made of toasted fennel seeds, finely chopped shallot, lemon juice and thinly sliced lemons. I let the dressing sit for about 45 minutes on the counter ahead of the meal, which helped to soften the lemon slices. There, too, I tried hard to keep the lemon slices as absolutely, painfully thin as possible. Because no one wants a mouth full of thick lemon. 

Just before serving, the salad is tossed with the dressing and drizzled with olive oil. And I’ll tell you what. The leftovers were even better. The lemon and shallot further softened and the juices had time to really marinate the raw fennel, making it sort of slaw-like in a very balanced way. 

I served this salad with Alison’s Skillet Chicken with Olives and Sumac, and Madeline contributed a powerful gazpacho made with cantaloupe and jalapeño by Melissa Clark. Oh, and Lemon Shaker Tart for dessert! That post is forthcoming. 

69 recipes cooked, 156 to go.

Spicy Red Cabbage with Sweet Onion and Lime by Alison Roman

I’ll say it right out. I was disappointed with this one. Not with the recipe, per se, but with the stubborn flavor of raw red cabbage. I had hoped that Alison’s additions of lime juice, sweet onion, honey, jalapeño, red pepper flakes, and sumac would bring this cruciferous vegetable to life. The ingredients certainly helped some, but I didn’t get the same soft, thoroughly tangy effect of a good ole coleslaw that I wanted. Partially, I think it’s because red cabbage is more… difficult than green cabbage. It’s more rigid in structure and prominent in cabbage-y flavor. And unlike most coleslaws, this recipe didn’t call for anything creamy like mayonnaise to soften things up.

Alison says she hates the word ‘coleslaw’ and is adamant that this is a SALAD recipe. So you see where the tension lies. Alison delivered on a salad with a strong cabbage flavor and little resemblance to a slaw. It’s just that that’s not what I was craving. If I make this again, I’ll try it with green cabbage, and add a 1/4th cup of mayonnaise. Sorry, Alison. 

66 recipes cooked, 159 to go.

Blood Oranges with Crunchy Red Onion and Avocado by Alison Roman

Lately, my mind has been occupied by just about everything other than food. Yesterday I came home from a workout class and had about 30 minutes to shower, dress, and prepare this salad before my in-laws showed up for dinner. But my mind was far, far away from anything that had to do with the tasks before me. 

Instead, I was roaming between downtown Chicago and the suburbs, working out potential commute routes in my head, thinking of traffic. I was in a PT office complaining about my throbbing tendon that continues to flare up every few weeks. I was in my childhood home remembering moments of the past. I was in the Minneapolis skyways, wondering how close Jordan was to coming home. I was anywhere and everywhere but my kitchen. 

A blood orange brought me back to consciousness. Avocado turned off the rushing river of to-do’s and questions about my future. Cilantro made me pay attention. Flaky sea salt greeted my senses, the crunchy yet delicate feel of it between my fingertips. 

Thanks to this salad, I finally heard the conversation happening in my living room. I was present as I arranged the slices of ice water-soaked onions and squeezed lime juice over each plate. I took delight in arranging the fruit and drizzling the olive oil. 

Cooking grounds me. It pulls me from whatever corner my mind is exploring and plops me squarely in front of the cutting board, stove, oven. I am where I am when I cook. And my life is richer for it. 

This salad is definitely the best fruit salad of her’s yet. By soaking the red onions in ice water, they lose their bite. They don’t overpower the dish, but complement the creamy avocado and bright citrus. Lime juice, olive oil and salt pull it all together nicely. Even my mother-in-law who doesn’t love fruit, loved this salad. The way the portions worked out, each plate had one sliced blood orange, a half of one small avocado, and about an eighth of an onion. I could have made it all on one big platter, but plating it individually was more fun.

59 recipes cooked, 166 to go.

Vinegared Romaine with Sour Cream, Bacon, and Herbs by Alison Roman

I love salads. Give me a big bowl of greens with all the fixings, plenty of texture (there must be crunch!), tossed in a tangy, zippy dressing with extra on the side, and I will love you forever. Maybe not forever, but for that day at least. 

To me, a great salad has a lot going on, and the various parts must all work together and complement each other. Decadence is encouraged, and so is simplicity! As long as the salad has excellent fixings, textural variance, and each part contributes well to the whole, I will love it. 

With this criteria in mind, I’ll break down this excellent salad. 

All the fixings: The elements, rather, are as follows: ½ head of romaine per person, ½ shallot finely chopped and marinated in white wine vinegar with salt and pepper, sour cream with salt and pepper, crispy bacon, and herbs. First, the finely chopped shallots are placed in a small bowl with the white wine vinegar to marinate and slightly soften. Then the sour cream is distributed to each plate and swirled over the bottom. Each half of romaine is then spread over the sour cream. Next, cook the bacon. I chose a pre-cooked bacon from TJ’s that just requires some microwaving. I like this kind because it’s fast, it doesn’t smell up my kitchen, it’s very crispy, and the package lasts a little while in the fridge. The bacon, left in full strip form, is tucked in between the leaves, so as to peak out at you with a hint of decadence and a wink. The shallot-vinegar mixture is spooned over the salad and topped with lots of chopped herbs (think dill, parsley, chives, etc.). 

Textural variety: The milky sour cream provides a smooth counterpoint to the crunchy bacon, crisp romaine stem, and soft romaine leaves. Every bite has an equal opportunity to be both crunchy and soft. 

Complementary parts: This dish has several distinct flavor elements that balance one another perfectly: creaminess of the sour cream, salty/fatty pork flavors of the bacon, tangy/acidic bite of the shallots and vinegar, and the earthy depth of the herbs. 

I didn’t like my first Alison Roman salad, but this one turned things around. This one is also what Alison calls a “knife-and-fork salad”. Yes, exactly, you need to eat it with a knife and fork. Which personally I find to be a fun activity. I like cutting up my own lettuce and bacon and distributing each ingredient to form the perfect bite. Some might call this “playing with my food.” I call it “craft time.”

I’ve now eaten this salad many times. I love that I don’t need to chop the romaine or toss it before serving. The assembly is so simple, especially if you follow my bacon recommendation, and it’s full of pleasing flavors. I’ve made this for lunch, for guests, for a casual date night dinner, and for a midday snack. And I’ve gotten flexible with the ingredients. A couple of sliced cherry tomatoes. Shaved carrot. A different dressing. As long as the same elements of something salty/fatty, something creamy, and something tangy/acidic are at play, it’s bound to be a great salad. 

47 recipes cooked, 178 to go.