Sticky Roasted Carrots with Citrus and Tahini by Alison Roman

I had a realization the other day about Alison’s use of the word “sticky.” At least when it comes to use in a recipe title, both these sticky carrots and her sticky walnuts use maple syrup, a naturally sticky substance, as a sweetening agent in the roasting process. But oddly enough, both the carrots and walnuts didn’t turn out to be very sticky. That’s about as far as that realization went. Anyways…

Regardless of the lack of stickiness, this carrot dish is rather inventive in its flavor pairing, and in true Alison fashion, is unapologetically bold. I’ve said before that Alison commits wholeheartedly to flavor, and this recipe is no exception. There’s nothing subtle about it. 

The elements at play here are the subtle sweetness of the carrots. I prefer smaller carrots like the multicolored Le Petite bag from Trader Joes. They’re pre-peeled and trimmed so the preparation is simpler. The quartered carrots are tossed with maple syrup, thinly sliced citrus (I used a navel orange), red pepper flakes, and salt and pepper. The other element present is half a red onion, sliced into .5 inch chunks and lightly pickled in lemon juice a few minutes before roasting. The combination of these spicy, acidic and sweet flavors and textures make this not your average veggie side. 

As if this needed another dimension, a simple tahini sauce coats the serving platter before placing the carrots and onions on top. I’m not always in the mood for a strong sesame seed presence. However, I found myself reaching to dip some of my carrots into the sauce throughout the meal. The tahini’s nutty flavor and smooth texture added another welcome complexity. 

All in all, I found Alison’s signature boldness a perfect strategy for cooking this mild vegetable. There will be more of these carrots in my future.

53 recipes cooked, 172 to go.

Black Lentils with Crispy Garlic and Labne by Alison Roman

In my last post about lentils, I said there were more stories to be told, more memories to share, about these pebble-like grains. For some reason, all my thoughts of lentils are very clear. Perhaps more than any other food, lentils have appeared in very specific moments of college and early adulthood where I felt a shift or a change in my world view. I can look back on each one and think, oh that was the day when I realized ___.  Writing about these moments seems like a valuable exercise, if only to practice remembering them for myself. 

Last time I shared my very first lentil experience (it was not a good first impression). There’s a gap in my memory of lentils between that winter lentil dinner and this next lentil encounter, so I’ll just assume I didn’t eat any lentils between January 2013 and January 2017. 

Sophia & Mark

happy pals, tired pals

On New Year’s Day 2017, I boarded a long flight from Chicago to Kigali, Rwanda. My dear friends Amy and Margaret, and I, along with our acting professor and his daughter, journeyed to this small, resilient country to teach a 3-week theater course to a group of middle and high school students. Our other dear friend Sophia lived in Rwanda and taught full-time at a school there. She graciously invited us to join her for this theater-intensive course wherein we would work with the students to devise a musical, based on a beloved children’s story called “You are Special.” It was an opportunity to not only use our storytelling skills, but also experience the country that Sophia loves so much. 

I could write many essays about our experiences there, the things we taught and the things taught to us, but that’s not what you’re here for. Instead, lentils. Lentil soup, to be exact. 

This was lentils’ turning point, there in that Rwandan kitchen with tiled flooring and bright blue walls. On one of our first nights, Sophia offered to cook us a pot of lentil soup for dinner. In addition to lentils, the soup also had angel hair pasta, carrots, tomatoes, onions, and various spices thrown in to simmer over the stove. In opposition to my last bowl of lentils, this soup spent a lot of time simmering, letting the lentils soften and the flavors meld together. Sophia is someone who deeply resists the urge to rush. I could taste her care in each bite.  

Margaret, Amy and I have all tried recreating this soup in the years since that trip, always with the intention of reliving our experience in Rwanda. I’m sure we’ve each gotten close, but no bowl will ever compare, for me at least, to the bowl that Sophia made for me in her home in Kigali on a warm January night. That night I was reminded of how much I need other people, and how that can be a blessing. 

If you’re still wondering about Alison’s lentils, I’ll say that they were delicious and simple. The recipe made wayyy too many lentils for just two people to eat - so I’ll call this one good for hosting others. The dish consists of black lentils cooked al dente and tossed with lemon juice, zest and cilantro. On top of the lentils, you can add a large dollop of labne (or goat’s milk yogurt if you’re me) and some frizzled garlic and shallots. Next time I make this, I’ll cut the lentil portion in half, but keep the same amount of garlic/shallot/labne.

51 recipes cooked, 174 to go.

Buttered Turmeric Rice with Crushed Almonds and Herbs by Alison Roman

Well since my modified turmeric revelation during the lemony tea cake recipe, I figured, why not keep testing my theory. This rice recipe affirmed that turmeric is nice when it isn’t the only thing you taste. The rice’s flavor is actually dominated by the toasted almond and butter flavors, more than anything else. Which means it can go really well with all sorts of other dishes. 

Let’s elaborate. Step one is to cook some rice. This recipe calls for jasmine or basmati rice. Over the last few years, I’ve become accustomed to substituting white rice for brown rice (health benefits, yada yada). But when I refer back to the rules, I’m reminded that I committed to maintaining the integrity of these recipes, which means no ingredient swapping unless totally necessary. Thus, I bought my first bag of jasmine rice in at least 3 years. 

I had forgotten how light and fluffy jasmine rice can be. And how much more quickly it cooks than brown rice! It only took 12 minutes to make 3 cups of rice. Once the rice is done, just set it aside. 

Meanwhile, it’s time to toast some chopped almonds in butter. I chopped my nuts by hand, mostly because I only had whole almonds, and I do like the texture of a roughly chopped nut (so many fun angles!). However, it should be noted that I will never be one to look down upon the purchase of pre-sliced or pre-chopped nuts. In fact, I grew up on a steady diet of kale and lemon salads topped with blanched slivered almonds. There are some days when I just don’t want to chop my own nuts. If you’re like me, then I say, “no shame!” 

After the nuts are toasty and the butter is browned, the nuts are removed and set aside with the rice, and the butter gets left behind. Thinly sliced shallots and turmeric take a dive into the butter and become soft and fragrant. Just a few minutes of cooking and you’re ready to plop the rice back into the skillet on top of the shallots and turmeric. 

This is the point where crispiness happens in front of your very eyes. Except you can’t actually see it get crispy because after the rice is pressed down into the skillet, you just have to leave it there and let the pan do the magic. Good thing I learned that “Believing isn’t seeing” from Judy the Elf in “The Santa Clause” movie with Tim Allen. Believe, though you do not see, that the rice is getting crunchier over the instructed span of 8-10 minutes over medium heat. FYI, at one point, I did lift up a corner of rice to check its progress (Alison says you can!) and realized that the pan needed to be rotated a bit for even crisping. 

Once the rice was crisped to my heart’s content, I plated it and topped it with the toasted almonds and a bunch of herbs. The texture was really fun and the flavor was subtle. I’d say keep the subtleness if you’re serving it with something else that’s loud and in your face. But if you want the rice to stand out more, don’t be afraid to maybe add a bit of coriander, possibly more salt, and definitely more black pepper. 

45 recipes cooked, 180 to go.

Roasted Broccolini and Lemon with Crispy Parmesan by Alison Roman

There are recipes I feel jazzed to write about. There are recipes about which I have not much to say. This is one of the latter. 

I didn’t begin to love vegetables as an adult until I learned how to oven roast them. I learned the vegetable to oil and salt ratio, a general oven temperature range, a sense for how to time it, and I haven’t looked back. Here is a great example of one vegetable to roast and how to pair it with other flavors. Broccolini roasted with lemon and some parmesan that gets all crispy. Everything you need to know is in the title.

My pal Margaret, who I reference often, encouraged me to keep it real here. I think I’ve done that thus far, but it’s a post like this that tempts me to embellish more than is necessary. So for brevity and clarity sake, I’ll bring this to a close. If you like roasted broccolini, and you think pairing it with lemon or parmesan sounds nice, then you my friend, should make some. 

44 recipes cooked, 181 to go.

Frizzled Chickpeas with Onions and Feta by Alison Roman

They’re not sizzled. They’re not fried. They’re frizzled. And they’re delicious. 

There are so many recipes for crispy chickpeas in the world. Even Alison has more than one. Most of them use oven roasting as the crisping method. A few use the pan fry. But Alison has declared, with reasonable assurance, that the way to cook chickpeas is the frizzle. (And all the Magic School Bus fans say, AMEN.) A cooking method of frying chickpeas in sizzling oil. 

The best feature of this dish--the crispiness of the chickpeas-- is only rivaled by the crispiness of the sliced red onion. Who doesn’t love crispy onions? 

The process is straightforward. A half cup of olive oil (yes, you need that much) is heated over medium-hight in a large skillet. First the onions and garlic get sizzly and soft, before the sprigs of fresh herbs, red pepper flakes, and two cans of chickpeas join the party. The frizzle method still takes a bit of time. I probably left them on the skillet for at least 15 minutes, shaking frequently so they didn’t burn. The final touch is my favorite dairy topping, feta cheese. 

I’ve made this dish twice now, once with Alison’s One-Pot Chicken with Lemon and Dates and the other time with Alison’s Skillet Chicken with Olives and Sumac. It’s a reliable side that would go well with pretty much anything. And I usually have the ingredients on hand, so it’s an easy fix if I need one more piece to a meal. I also think it would make a lovely snack.

38 recipes cooked, 187 to go.