FENNEL & ORANGE (ALMOST) NO-BAKE RICOTTA CHEESECAKE.

It was my second night in Rome. The city’s scope, its seemingly endless sprawl of monuments and marble and piazzas and ancient ruins, all of it moved within me, a pendulum of awe swaying back and forth with breath. I walked around the Coliseum, found a perfectly budded red rose someone had left in the cracks of the surrounding wall (a blind date? a remembrance of a beloved family member? a goodbye?), heard Spanish guitar in a tiny, asymmetrical piazza created by an unlikely meeting of roads and bridges, was offered countless selfie sticks by countless selfie stick hawkers. And then I had my first bite of sfogliatelle.My friend Jennie had changed her tickets to Florence to fly through Rome so we’d have thirty-six hours to explore, and on our way to dinner that second eve, we stopped at Antico Forno Roscioli, one of the city’s best bakeries. We wanted everything but selected cautiously, as we were about to sit down for a meal at their restaurant. Jennie bought a sfogliatella (ends with a for singular, e for plural, thank you Duolingo) and we both found ourselves at the mercy of a gustatory waterfall of flaky pastry, powdered sugar, and perfectly tangy, richly spiced ricotta filling.

There was the base of mild cheese, yes, but on top of that was an architecture of sweet orange and lingering fennel. I nibbled in delight. Jennie stood quietly, eating her sfogliatella, occasionally bursting out into exclamations of pastry-induced wonder. That was the first of many perfect fennel-laced desserts this trip offered.

As I traveled down the coast to Amalfi, I saw fennel growing wild on the hillsides. In Positano, I shopped at a small market overlooking the north side of town, where reaching for a head of lettuce on the “shelf” meant peeking through to one of a thousand iconic cliffside views. So much of the Amalfi Coast reminded me of Hawaii, in the areas where the archipelago’s mountains meets ocean, giving life to a lushness I’ve rarely experienced elsewhere. In Positano, cliff meets Tyrrhenian Sea, and the way to the spiaggia (beach) is overgrown with figs, olives, vines. It’s mediterranean and not tropical, of course, but the weighty humidity of the air, the abundance of produce, the hit of salt in every breath—all reminded me of my island home.

There will be more—much, much more—and many pictures in a forthcoming post about my travels in Rome and Amalfi. My entire itinerary. All my recommendations. But before then, and because my friends at Ralphs were kind enough to welcome me home with Taste of Italy (hello Italian pop serenades whilst strolling through the grocery store aisles), I had to make you this (almost) no-bake ricotta cheesecake.

You’ll need to turn the oven on for the crust and the roasted oranges, but that’s it. A total of 30 minutes of oven time, and no fuss with the filling. I’d say you don’t have to roast the oranges if you don’t want to, but then you’d miss out on so much depth of flavor. The olive oil, honey, and sea salt bring out the full range of citrus complexity, highlighting tartness and coaxing out sweetness.

But before those roasted orange slices get laid on a pillowy bed of whipped cream, let’s talk about the two layers beneath: First, a crushed fennel seed and orange zest graham cracker crust, and then a deeply creamy ricotta and cream cheese filling. The filling is piled with orange zest, fresh orange juice, vanilla, and honey. Over that, a bed of whipped cream, pure and simple.

I finished it with a Hemisfares Italian olive oil from Ralphs, the roasted oranges, some bee pollen sprinkles, and an extra hit of flaky sea salt.

This trip to Italy was the best gift I’ve ever given myself. And coming back to grocery store shelves stocked full of Italian goods (I mean, there was crema di pistacchio, people!) made the transition from Positano cliffside to LA apartment just that much easier. I can’t wait for you to make this—it just might be my favorite dessert of the year.

Enjoy. Dream of Italy.