Coconut Banana Cream Pudding by Alison Roman

As a child, I experienced many random urges to bake something. Usually in the midst of boredom, I would get sudden hankerings to be creative and make something with my hands for other people. Which always led me to beg my mom to let me use up a box of baking mix in the pantry, think brownies or chocolate chip cookie bars. Though the instructions were rather straightforward, and little effort required, I still tended to nail the desserts only 50% of the time. (I had a shorter attention span in those days.) Every once in a while, we only had a packet of Jello pudding mix on hand, which only required mixing powder with cold milk and chilling it in the fridge. But it was enough to scratch my baking itch. 

And thus concludes my prior experience making pudding. As you can imagine, I had really no idea what I was getting into with Alison’s pudding. And yes, I made a big mistake. Hopefully my writing about it helps someone avoid the same. 

Making pudding from scratch is far different from making pudding from a box (duh). Pudding from scratch happens in multiple steps and with lots and lots of whisking by hand. The first step is to whisk egg yolks, cornstarch, and sugar together until pale and fluffy. After just three or so minutes of whisking, my arm already felt tired. Thankfully Jordan stepped in to get the egg yolks to that dull yellow color and speckled with tiny air bubbles. 

Now it’s time to simultaneously heat and continuously whisk the dairy, which is where I spent most of my time, and made my grand mistake. I poured heavy cream, sugar, coconut milk, a tiny dash of ground turmeric (for color, I think), and vanilla extract into a pot, and stirred everything slowly until it came to a light simmer. Stirring helps prevent any cream from curdling. In order to warm the egg mixture before pouring it all into the hot cream, Alison instructs us to pour half of the cream into the eggs and mix them first. We want to avoid the eggs going into shock and scrambling when they hit the heat, so we need to gradually get them warmed up. Kind of like dipping your toe in the jacuzzi to adjust, before submerging yourself all the way. Once warm, then I poured all of that creamy, eggy stuff back into the pot on the stove over medium heat. 

Now here’s where the confusion began. Here’s what the cookbook says: 

“Stir the warmed egg yolk mixture into the pot with the cream and, whisking constantly, cook until it thickens and starts to bubble up and look like something that is so hot it could hurt you if it touched your skin (it can, so be careful!!!), 3 to 5 minutes.” 

So I’m waiting for it to “thicken” and look “hot” and start to ”bubble up…” Not the most helpful visual cues to watch for, but fine, I’ll roll with it. The 3 minute mark hits. Then the 5. There’s steam coming off the top and some tiny bubbles rising to the surface. Is that what she means by hot and bubble up? I’ll let it go a minute longer…. 7 minute mark hits, and still more steam and tiny bubbles. The liquid is a bit thicker than when I started. Now, I’m well past the time limit, so I figured the pudding must be ready. I removed the pot from the heat, and per the instructions, poured the mixture into a 9x13 baking dish and stuck it into the fridge to chill “for at least one hour.”

An hour goes by, and the pudding, or should I say, slightly thickened liquid, is still warm. Another hour goes by, and the slightly thickened liquid is room temperature. A third hour goes by, and though the liquid is cold, there’s still one major problem…. It’s liquid. Wasn’t it supposed to thicken up and feel like pudding by now? I did what I always do in situations like this: I called Margaret.

Margaret, knower of most things cooking. Experienced cook, baker, and thankfully, pudding maker. I told Margaret all about my dilemma. How I followed the instructions, how I thought the pudding looked ready for chilling based on the book’s description, and how I still had a baking dish filled with cold liquid in my refrigerator. “Ah,” she said, “you just didn’t cook it long enough.” But I cooked it 2 minutes longer than what Alison said? “It always takes longer than they tell you it will.” Margaret, of all people, would know this. Then she told me what to look for beyond heat and bubbles. 

I hung up the phone, poured all of the liquid back into the pot, and turned the burner dial to medium heat. It took about 10 minutes of heat and constant stirring to get the mixture back to the temperature it was before I chilled it. At this point, I applied Margaret’s tips. It took another 13 minutes before I had a viable “pudding.”

For those of you who plan to make this pudding recipe, here are some helpful (for me, at least) details to add to Alison’s instructions. 

  • Once the egg/cream mixture is poured back in the pot, it could take anywhere from 8 to 15 minutes of constant stirring to achieve the right consistency. 

  • Beyond heat and bubbles, you’ll know the pudding is ready when:

    • You drag your whisk across the liquid and it creates a ribbon pattern on the surface. 

    • Your whisk meets resistance as it stirs. 

    • The pudding can coat the back of a spoon

    • The pudding feels mostly like pudding. It’ll thicken up a bit more as it chills, but you want to achieve most of the pudding consistency while over the stove. 

My second attempt was successful. But by that point, I didn’t have enough time to let it chill and assemble the dessert layers before going to a NYE gathering. So I left the pudding to chill for the night and assembled everything the next afternoon. 

I managed to fit four layers of: pudding, vanilla wafers (I used GF wafers found at Whole Foods), banana slices tossed in lime juice (to prevent browning), and whipped cream, in my serving bowl. I sliced all 6 bananas per the instructions, but ended up using about four and a half. I served the pudding as dessert with Alison’s Pizza Night, and the leftovers the next evening with Alison’s Ricotta-Stuffed Shells (post to come). 

Despite the hullabaloo, this dessert is delicious. And addicting. 

Pro tip: If banana flavor isn’t your favorite, just know that the longer the pudding sits in the fridge, the stronger the banana flavor becomes. I don’t mind that, but some will. Also, lime juice truly does prevent bananas from browning. Who knew?

204 recipes cooked, 21 to go.

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.

Any Excuse to Make Shrimp Cocktail by Alison Roman

a small NYE crew to eat my shrimp cocktail

Hello, and welcome to my Shrimp Confessional. I vow to tell the truth, and nothing but. 

Confession #1: My one and only excuse to make shrimp cocktail is the fact that this recipe exists in Nothing Fancy. There are no other excuses. Shrimp cocktail has always made my stomach do a tiny flip. I can tolerate shrimp when it’s warm, not when it’s cold. 

Confession #2: I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually followed some of Molly Baz’s advice instead Alison Roman’s (smh). Alison’s instructions say to “peel, but not devein” the shrimp before boiling. She then tells us we can devein the shrimp if it reallllly grosses us out, but she promises it’s not a big deal. IDK about you, but eating poop is a big deal to me, so I had no choice but to devein the shrimp. But how to go about it? Alison seems to assume that readers already know their way around shrimp.

I received Molly’s “Cook This Book” for Christmas from my younger brother. I went to see if Molly had anything to say about shrimp, and lo and behold, she wrote a shrimp cocktail recipe as well. Reading her recipe sort of felt like cheating, but I truly needed to learn what to do. Molly's recipe includes a QR code that leads to a 45-second video demonstrating how to devein shrimp. It was all I needed to feel confident. (You know those YouTube how-to videos that spend the first few minutes just promoting their channel before they actually get to the part you were hoping to see? Well Molly’s video was not that, and I just want to say, thank you.)

I faced a moral dilemma. Molly says to devein, but not peel the shrimp before cooking. Alison literally says the opposite. What’s a dame to do? As I confessed earlier, I actually went with Molly on this one. To devein, she instructs us to take a sharp pair of kitchen scissors, cut a straight line down the shell on the shrimp’s back, and using a paper towel, pull out the vein from the head-end. After the shrimp is cooked, then you can remove the shells. This method worked well for me. 

Molly’s cooking method differs slightly, as well. She says to bring water to a boil, drop the shrimp in, cover the pot with a lid, and turn the heat off. After 4 minutes, the shrimp are ready. And she was right. Alison says to keep the water boiling and cook the shrimp without a lid. I’m sure it’d produce the same result, but if I’m going to cheat, I might as well cheat all the way. I still boiled the shrimp with a quartered onion and peppercorns per Alison’s recipe. I’m told that it added great flavor to the shrimp…

Confession #3: I didn’t taste the shrimp. I truly was not in the mood. Plus, there’s something about removing poop from a creature that removes its appetite appeal. Like I said, though, I’m told that they had a nice flavor, and the cocktail sauce seemed to be a hit, too. I used yuzu kosho as my hot sauce of choice, which prevented the tomato flavor from dominating the sauce. I also went with Alison’s directive to use Heinz ketchup, because why not. 

202 recipes cooked, 23 to go.

Burrata Salad Two Ways: Crushed Peas and Tangerines

Two burrata salads, both alike in dignity. Both delicious, one more complex than the other. Both boasting bold ingredients, then tempered by the rich creamy insides of a burrata ball. Both utilizing arugula, one slightly more memorable than the other. 

I’ll start with the most impactful salad: Crushed Peas with Burrata and Black (Green) Olives. 

Yes, I used green Castelvetrano olives here because I like them better than black olives. A whole lot better. I crushed a handful of them and laid them to rest in olive oil while prepping the rest of the salad. Please note that Alison says nothing in the recipe about crushing the olives, but the picture in the book appears to have crushed black olives, so that’s what I did. Plus, I don’t want to eat a whole olive when everything else in the salad is much smaller/crushed. The texture of whole olives just didn’t feel right. 

I used frozen and thawed peas instead of fresh peas. Half of the peas are crushed by hand, (it’s almost as satisfying as crushing canned, whole tomatoes by hand, and less messy) and mixed with the other half of the peas, lemon zest, salt, and pepper. 

I chose arugula, parsley, and tarragon as my greens, since that’s what I had on hand. I tossed them with lemon juice, then set out to arrange the salad. First, tear the burrata into bite-sized pieces and place it in the center of a serving platter. Next, spoon the peas over and around the burrata. Then, scatter the lemony greens over the peas. Finally, spoon the olives and oil over the salad, followed by more oil and flaky salt. I served this salad with Alison’s Pizza Night (post to come) and it was a true hit! Fully of salty, tangy, herby flavor and fun textures that complemented the pizza nicely. I’ll certainly make this one again! 

And finally: Burrata with Tangerines, Shallots, and Watercress

I also used arugula here instead of watercress for convenience reasons. I first marinated the sliced shallots in lemon juice. Then peeled and sliced several tangerines. I arranged the salad in a similar fashion to the one above: torn burrata in the middle, citrus scattered, then greens, then lemony shallots, followed by a drizzle of olive oil, salt and pepper. For those who don’t like funky flavors, this salad is very straightforward and well balanced. It can pair well with a wider range of dishes, compared to the other salad. 

The burrata with tangerines salad feels like something you’d order at a country club, meaning it’s fresh and healthy tasting, but it probably won’t change your life. The burrata and peas salad could easily be ordered at a hip restaurant in Brooklyn, and you might walk away a bit different than before. 

200 and 201 recipes cooked, 24 to go.

Spring Seafood Stew with Peas, New Potatoes, and Tarragon by Alison Roman

It’s snowing furiously outside, sheets of snow flying sideways past the buildings of Chicago. It’s New Year’s Day, 2022. It’s most certainly not Spring. And I would far prefer to be watching the Harry Potter Reunion on HBO instead of writing an essay about seafood stew, but so it goes. 

[Okay, confession. I wrote the above sentences, and then decided to close my laptop and watch part of the HP Reunion. It was a great decision. It’s now January 2.]

I was most certainly not looking forward to making this stew. To eat one kind of seafood requires some self-convincing. To eat three kinds of seafood in one dish is almost impossible for me. This recipe calls for clams (mmm), cod (meh), and smoked trout (huh). I called an “audible” (a sports term I inherited through marriage, FYI) and skipped the smoked trout. While the cod turned out alright, it was a little fishy for my taste. Ultimately, I would have been most happy with this stew if it were just the veggies and the clams. But that’s just me! 

The stew comes together in a multi-step process. First, sauteeing the vegetables - celery, shallot, potato - until soft. The recipe calls for leeks, but I somehow missed it when creating my shopping list, so I made do with what I had on hand. Then white wine and bay leaves join and simmer until partially reduced. I poured seafood stock and water into the dutch oven and brought everything to a simmer, letting the potatoes start to fall apart, about 35 minutes. I will just note here that this was my first time purchasing seafood stock, and beforehand, I was nervous. I imagined a liquid that smelled like a fish tank. Well, I was wrong. I took one whiff of the open stock carton and hardly smelled a thing. Which gave me more confidence in what I was about to consume. 

I plopped my scrubbed clams into the simmering stew, along with a cup of frozen peas. Then placed the lid on and waited for the clams to open - about 12 minutes. The final step requires laying the pieces of cod into the broth while trying not to destroy their delicate flesh. I mostly succeeded. The pot’s lid returns once more so the cod can cook through. 

To serve, I ladled the stew into each bowl, followed by a dollop of crème fraiche and a mixture of parsley, tarragon, and lemon zest. I also warmed some slices of homemade sourdough bread for dipping. Just like Alison’s Clams with Cod and Cream (a v similar recipe, by the way) I would gladly count sourdough dipped in the broth as my dinner. 

A final word about “stew” vs. “chowder.” Alison’s recipe notes say that she waffled between whether to call this recipe a stew or a chowder, but ultimately decided there’s no difference before choosing “stew.” Jordan, Margaret, and I kindly, but firmly, disagree. In the words of Margaret: “I associate chowders with corn and seafood. To me, a chowder has to be creamy, usually through the addition of dairy, but sometimes can happen through other means (like maybe pureeing some portion of the chowder?). I’ve never heard of a beef chowder, for example.” If you have further thoughts on this stew v. chowder debate, feel free to comment below. 

199 recipes cooked, 26 to go.