BitterSweet

An Obsession with All Things Handmade and Home-Cooked


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Sucré: A Sweet Boutique

When words fail and sweeping gestures go unnoticed, a little square of chocolate can warm the iciest of hearts. Not just any chocolate will have this same miraculous effect; quality truly counts here. To deliver a single perfect bite, the ideal snap and melt, that flood of unadulterated cacao bliss, you must know how to pick and choose your chocolate ally. Even for the unromantic and Valentine-immune, it’s no secret that the gift of chocolate can score serious brownie points, no matter who is the recipient.

Based in New Orleans, Sucré takes the guess work out of selecting sumptuous treats. Available both locally and through mail order, all of their tempting offerings are just a few clicks and a few days away. Some might say there are slim pickings for vegans here, offering only two options in total that are free of dairy and eggs, but those two are more than enough to sate the discerning sweet tooth.

Though taste will always trump all fanciful facades, it’s impossible not to be wooed by the beautiful packaging surrounding the Coconut and Toasted Almond Bar. A cut-out window provides glimpse of the bar within its turquoise box, teasing with a flawlessly tempered surface and a hint of the goodies sprinkled on top. The bottom is really the top in this case, revealing a slightly scuffed break-away design on the opposite side, but such an imperfection is barely worth noting. The easily snapped squares will hardly stick around long enough to be examined that thoroughly. Melting readily over the tongue, this bar packs a serious cacao punch, coating the whole mouth with deep, woodsy, and slightly smoky dark chocolate flavor. Fresh, crisp almonds and shredded coconut add a bit of crunch and interest to the party, but are overwhelmed by the strength of the chocolate. Although they get top billing in the title, they’re bit players at best. At the end of the day, it’s just all about the chocolate.

Utilizing that same rich chocolate, the Dark Chocolate Bark is also worth a taste (or five.) Each generous shard is positively stuffed with goodies; a varied mix of roasted cashews, whole almonds, pistachios, pecans, and dried cherries litter the cacao landscape. It’s the pinch of salt over the top that really allow all those flavors to pop, lending a brightness that the plainer bars might have lacked. For better or for worse, this only leads to creating an even more addictive sweet snack, and I could barely stop myself from popping piece after piece. Incredibly well balanced for containing so many disparate ingredients, sweet chewy fruits perfectly contrast with the gently bitter edge of cacao, while the crunchy nuts lend a nutty, toasted essence to the mix.

I’m typically not one to sit down and snack on straight chocolate, but Sucré‘s confections are a completely different story. Valentine’s Day is not a big event on my radar, but I would certainly give it more attention if it always involved this kind of instant gratification.


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Hello, Hilo

By contrast to the hustle and bustle of Honolulu, Hilo is a sleepy little town tucked into the lush countryside. Compared to the rest of the country though, it’s still a lively and fully urbanized city. Condensing the majority of its shops and eateries into just about a dozen square blocks, almost everything is immediately accessible without hopping in a car, despite the lack of a comprehensive public transit system. For those seeking a tropical “escape” that still has all the amenities of home, Hilo should be at the top of your list. Pick your arrival time wisely, however, and don’t do as I did by landing on Sunday. Just a whisper above a ghost town, most of Hilo either takes Sunday off completely or closes up shop early, leaving those seeking shopping or structured entertainment to fend for themselves. Bear in mind that the listed hours for businesses here are generally more of a rough estimate than a precise time to set a watch by on any day, so always call in advance to confirm that the hits on your list are actually open when you drop by. Luckily, there are still a handful of eateries putting out their best dishes well into the evening. It was the small farmer’s market that shocked me, generously pointed out by an effusive shuttle driver on my way out of the airport.

The Hilo Farmer’s Market website states Wednesday and Saturday, 6:00 AM to 4:00 PM in no unclear terms, and yet there it was, gently humming away into the midday heat of Sunday afternoon. Though more modest in size and selection than the “big” days, this was no ramshackle assortment of venders here. Hidden on the corner just behind the KTA grocery store, skip the shopping cart to find more locally produced items just a few steps away. Piles of fresh produce overflowed out of baskets, fresh flowers sat in carefully arranged bouquets, and a good handful of homemade jams and syrups were available for tasting, to boot. Better than the selection that I’d find at my own local markets in the height of summer, this was a true boon to discover. Now that I had a full kitchen back at my hotel, I shamelessly stocked up on fruits and vegetables, stuffing the fridge as much as one can for such a brief stay.

Little did I know what hidden treasures lay barely a foot outside my hotel room door. For the first time using the descriptor of “homey” as a positive thing, I would recommend the Dolphin Bay Hotel to absolutely anyone. Walking into my comfortably furnished studio apartment, it really did feel like my own, happily lived in space. Offering bottomless cups of coffee in the morning far better than the average bitter brew, that generosity is only topped by the readily available papayas and finger bananas 24/7. Sitting right out in the hall, everyone is encouraged to eat as many as they can, and I did indulge quite a bit. Best of all, however, is their impossibly fruitful backyard. A quick stroll outside brought to light more edible delights than I could count, including but not limited to starfruit, oranges, ginger, bread fruit, mountain apples, and yes, avocados. It simply boggled my mind that all of this could be grown in the comfort of one’s home.

Though I now had plenty of food to survive through my single full day stay, there were a few enticing gustatory leads worth investigating nonetheless. All of my original points of interest were unavailable, but I struck solid gold after glancing into Le Magic Pan‘s open door. One of the rare establishments open until 9:00 PM everyday, they’re your best bet for a memorable vegan meal. Admittedly, options are slim, with your only real choice being the chickpea flour or buckwheat Vegan Crepe, but the mere existence of vegan crepes should be enough to encourage a taste. Go for the “half salad, half crepe” option, as portions are generous and the salad is far better than mere iceberg shreds with a token cherry tomato on top. Wildly varied and colorful throughout, the seemingly disparate ingredients came together to create a delightful little starter to whet one’s appetite.

Crispier than the average pancake, my chickpea-based crepe reminded me more of dosa than any French fare, but that didn’t detract from my enjoyment one bit. Tucking artichoke hearts, creamy avocado chunks, and the salty pops of kalamata olives into that blanket of batter, the whole thing is topped off with an artful drizzle of “magic sauce,” which was appropriately surprisingly and mysteriously delicious. A must-try for any vegan in Hilo, budget travelers can play their cards wisely to get the best deal: The very same dish is on offer for breakfast, but at $2 cheaper.

Though I did have grand plans to visit a sushi joint offering up some creative vegetarian rolls, alas, bad timing thwarted my attempts. A full day tour kept me away from the downtown area until most places had closed up shop for the day, and then little was open the following morning of my departure. My greatest regret is missing out on trying shave ice… But I guess that’s just one more reason I’ll need to return, and soon.

Photos are still being uploaded to my Flickr set everyday, so keep clicking by to see the full scope of my trip. Coming soon: waterfalls and craters and vog, oh my!


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Broke Da Mout

Hawaiians simply have a way with words. Direct but gentle, and often spoken with a good dose of humor, every statement seems to come with a built-in smile at the end. Said in Pidgin with island inflection, “broke da mout” (“break the mouth”) is in fact a compliment to the chef. Not nearly as painful as it may let on, the phrase suggests that you’ve eaten something so unfathomably delicious, or eaten such vast quantities of it, that you simply couldn’t stand to take another bite. Ergo, your palate has been thoroughly spoiled, in the most satisfying way. I can report without hesitation that I thoroughly broke my own mouth to the fullest extent of the definition while in Honolulu.

Lured out by the familiar urge to discover new ono grindz (good eats), every step of my two mile walk to reach Greens & Vines was worth the effort. Born of the 100% raw vegan catering company Licious Dishes, this dine-in outpost is only a few months old, still glistening with that new restaurant shine. Glowing like a beacon on a dark night, the neon sign out front is quite arresting, especially for the unprepared. Already on my hit list, it was a sight I was unprepared for as I gazed blankly out the bus window.

“Oh, that’s the restaurant right there!” I exclaimed in spite of myself, to no one in particular. It would clearly require a more thorough exploration at a later time, especially without those lovely people sharing public transit who were now convinced of my mental instability.

After miscalculating the distance from my hotel rather drastically, it ended up being a later meal than anticipated, but gave me plenty of time to work up an appetite. Good thing too, since just one plateful of Kaffir Miso Pad Thai, composed of kelp noodles and topped off with a generous handful of crunchy cashews, left me feeling quite stuffed. Taking my time to luxuriate in every slippery strand, the effusively friendly staff made me feel more than welcome to linger, as opposed to so many other establishments that saw the single vegan diner as a burden. One gets a real sense of community here, proof positive that veganism is alive and thriving in all pockets of the world.

Although I already broke da mout on my main dish, the temptation of the dessert menu was too much to bear. Wrapping up a petite wedge of Tangerine Cheesecake to go, it became a most decadent midnight snack just a few hours later. Flawlessly smooth, creamy, and sparkling with citrus zest, its small size belied immense flavor. More than enough to satisfy even my voracious sweet tooth, what initially seemed like a scant portion turned out to be just right.

The raw movement may still be in its infancy in Honolulu, but endless other clean, green options can be readily found hidden in amongst the puka dog and saimin stands. Peace Cafe serves up well-balanced meals with a macrobiotic sort of slant, featuring otherwise obscure flavors like matcha and kinako to create vegan treats found no where else.

Speaking of which, the Iced Matcha Latte is an absolute must for any hot day, which is pretty much every day on the island. Lightly sweetened just to cut the bitter edge of the powdered green tea, soy milk lends body to the beverage, making it both refreshing and wholly satisfying. If only I had ventured out to this part of town sooner, I’m certain I would have found many excuses to return for a second and third refill.

Mochi brownies displayed alluringly on the counter did look like an awfully attractive lunch option, but the savory dishes are worth holding out for. Before ever setting foot in the shop, I already knew that I wanted the Heart and Seoul entree: Inspired by Korean bibimbap, a power plate of greens, both raw and cooked, beansprouts, shredded carrots, and either fresh tofu or TVP over a bed of brown rice. Ever indecisive, I stood there hemming and hawing at the counter, until the cashier helpfully broke my strained silence. “I could get you a little bit of both, too- How about that?” she asked sweetly. Yes, please; I felt like I really could have it all in that moment. Both were utterly delightful, but being the tofu-lover that I am, I would spring for a full portion of only that silky-soft bean curd next time. Topped off with a healthy dollop of very mild gochujang to mix and mash at will, the diner has the freedom to mix in as much of that salty paste as their heart desires. Naturally, I devoured every last smudge.

What’s most telling about how vegan-friendly a city is, however, is not the number of specialty shops or isolated outposts. Rather, it’s what one can scavenge in the everyday eateries, even the mundane or most unpromising locations. While the Ala Moana Mall is no average shopping center, boasting hundreds of stores spread out for what seems like miles, the above platter is still an incredible testament to how open and accessible Honolulu is to the compassionate visitor or resident. Grylt Ala Moana, located in the Makai Food Court, is one of three locations within Honolulu. In true cafeteria style, you’re encouraged to build your own plate, picking between proteins, sides, and sauces. Grilled Tofu is the way to go to avoid animal protein, and incredibly, you can actually choose Olive Oil Mashed Cauliflower over plain white rice, if desired. For just 50 cents more, it’s more than worth the upgrade. Grilled Veggies are already so expertly seasoned with balsamic vinegar and black pepper, it seems a shame to cover them with any additional sauce, despite how bright and vivacious the Citrus Herb Oil was. Request it on the side to dip the tofu in, and you’ll have the perfect complement to all components.

Next, we’re jetting off to another island… The Big Island, in fact, for a stop in Hilo. Still more photos are being uploaded everyday, so please keep checking in to see all of my adventures!


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Biting into the Big Pineapple

Though its nickname evokes images of a more tropical rendition of New York City, Honolulu is truly beyond compare. A big city with the heartbeat of a small town, everyone seems to know each other, or at least treat strangers like family if they don’t. Shy and introverted by nature, it took a huge step outside of myself to embark on my first solo trip, and I can say with conviction that there was no better destination than this string of islands in the Pacific Ocean. Reaching out into the void, I was shocked by the genuine kindness that was placed in my outstretched palms. Hearing horror stories about Hawaii’s rocky past, including some lingering (and often justified) resentment against haoles, it seemed a sure thing that my sheet-white face was just asking for trouble. Never have I been so happy to be wrong.

Simple interactions, no matter how shallow, just felt warmer, friendlier than anything I had previously encountered. Smiles came easily, instantly, to every gentle face, and accidental eye contact no longer felt like a potential threat. For the rest of my life, I will never forget the mundane act of waiting for the bus in China Town. Midday sun blazing away, cooling trade winds no where to be found, it was a warmth that was impossible to comprehend for a January afternoon. Wholly unprepared for the heat, I rolled up my sleeves and sweated it out, checking and double-checking the schedule to make sure I had picked the right bus line. Out of the blue, a petite woman sitting on the bench struck up a conversation, noticing my discomfort.

“Yeah, I sure wish I had an umbrella like you,” I mentioned dreamily, nodding to her black-paneled parasol. “I’ve only thought of them for rainy days, but that’s such a good idea!”

Without missing a beat, she immediately offered to share her shade. “Come sit by me then! There’s plenty of room,” she indicated her vast abundance of space, patting the empty seat. And so there I sat, nearly 5,000 miles from home, cheek-to-cheek with a complete stranger, having rarely felt safer in the comfort of my own house.

It’s such a simple gesture, such a forgettable instance, but I’m still bowled over by that effortless generosity. It’s just not something I’ve seen anywhere else in the world.

The people are what truly makes Hawaii so special, but the food naturally ranks second on my list of reasons to visit. Shockingly, vegan options abound in Honolulu, with hardly a menu lacking one ready-to-eat option. Tofu reigns supreme here, thanks to the influence of many Asian cultures, thus making it the norm rather than the “alternative.” Not every morsel was the height of fine cuisine, but I had a handful of memorable meals that would be worth returning to the island for.

An unassuming little hole in the wall, Ruffage Natural Foods is located just a few short blocks away from Kuhio Beach in Waikiki. After a long day of sun and surf, the short menu of simple, wholesome entrees draws both travelers and locals alike. The Tofu Avocado Spring Salad was exactly what I craved, fulfilling my desperate need for fresh greens and a punch of protein. Despite the heat, I still couldn’t resist pairing that with a soul-satisfying cup of miso soup, filled with seaweed and tofu as well. For a no-frills healthy meal, I can’t think of a better place to drop by.

Out in China Town, at the very bus stop where my most cherished conversation took place, the Downbeat Diner is also serving up some awesome meatless eats. Boasting a menu of comfort foods and classic diner favorites, they readily accept the challenge of veganizing each and every option should it not be naturally free of animal ingredients already. Since I came in a little bit early for lunch, the brunch options were most appealing, and they pulled out a solid Tofu Scramble indeed.

Squeezing in those greens again, this platter typically comes with potatoes, but can be swapped for a salad upon request. Mushrooms and onions added a savory complexity to the yellow-hued, seasoned bean curds, I cleaned my plate in mere minutes and would have licked it if not in public.

You won’t want to bypass the drink menu while you’re at it. My admittedly unusual request for a virgin Bloody Mary was met without any snark, and hit the spot perfectly. Lightly spicy, nice and salty, and packed with tomato flavor, I wish I could have ordered about a gallon of the stuff to take with me.

By complete accident or a crazy stroke of luck, however you’d like to consider it, I ended up staying at the very hotel where my top restaurant destination was situated. I had to compare the addresses at least five times before I believed it, but indeed, they were the same. Yuzu, crafting exquisite Japanese food in the ground floor of the Ala Moana Hotel, is not a vegan restaurant. Amazingly, they produce some of the most realistic-looking vegetable nigiri I have ever come across, and many other vegetable options are equally delightful.

You owe it to yourself to try the Vegetable Nigiri Sampler at least once in your life time. The height of edible art, though it may be a dead-ringer for fish at first glance, there’s not a scrap of animal protein to be found on this plate. The “tuna” slices are in fact peeled tomatoes, gently poached in vinegar to impart a uniquely bright, uncharacteristically oceanic flavor. Yuba fills one gunkan while a rich carrot mousse is piped into another. Lotus root is fried and covered with eel sauce, so cleverly hidden within its crispy shell that I would have never been able to identify it unaided. Mushrooms top of the remained of the pieces for incredible umami bites. Eggplant is typically included into the melange as well, but the chef so graciously provided a second tomato piece for me instead, accommodating for my sad eggplant intolerance.

Don’t leave the table without trying their hand-cut Veggie Medley Udon Noodles while you’re at it. Sliced fresh to order and lavished with all variety of garnishes on the side, they’re almost as much fun to eat as they are delicious. Slippery, chewy strands of wheat that twist effortlessly around the chopsticks, the noodles are a world apart from anything dried or store-bought. Each bite is a little bit different too, depending on how you load them up with scallions, sesame seeds, ginger, mushrooms, or crunchy tenkasu. A final splash into the soy-based dipping sauce, and the whole assembly goes down easily. My only regret is that I didn’t have time to return and try another dish or eight at Yuzu.

There’s still much more food to come, but in the meantime, keep checking my Flickr set for more photos!


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Aloha from Hawaii

Eyelids weighted down by a marathon 29-hour day in transit, it hardly seemed worth fighting their slow descent. Nodding off for 15-minute stretches at a time while waiting, waiting, waiting endlessly to stop hurtling through the clouds, I eventually succumbed to exhaustion. Next time I came to, I was in paradise.

I don’t care if it’s horribly cliched- It’s completely true. Honolulu, Hawaii is like no other place I’ve ever been, and I couldn’t have dreamed up a place more perfect if I truly had died and gone to heaven. Stepping off the gangway into the cozy embrace of 80-degree air, the afternoon sun sparkling overhead, I wasn’t quite sure I had actually woken up yet.

Though my hotel room wasn’t ocean-front or even ocean-facing, the view was still unparalleled in its grandeur. Each sunrise and sunset was a sight to behold. On my last morning in the city, I rose while the sky was still dark, dragging a chair in front of the window for a front seat to the show. In those wee AM hours, nursing a large cup of hot Kona coffee, I watched as the streets slowly began to glow and come alive and the sky danced with a changeable rainbow of colors.

Readjusting to 12-degree days and 5:00pm nightfall has been challenging, to say the least, so I’m not yet fully back up to speed. Consider these landscapes just a small taste of what’s to come, and keep checking my Flickr set for additional photos and descriptions, some of which won’t be featured on the blog. Though all my photos are full of treasured memories, too beautiful to keep to myself, I don’t want to bog down anyone’s loading time further. Consider it a somewhat hidden bonus for the truly curious. Next up, a handful of island food finds simply too incredible to limit to mere images. Stay tuned!


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The Writing on the Wall, Part Three

If you’ve been following me on Twitter or Facebook, the reason for this jarring departure in blog content should be no secret by now. Just one last literary tidbit before I return home, and then I’ll have plenty of new stories to share- Involving food and recipes, yes! Thanks for bearing with me and providing such insightful comments all along. To complete this trio of essays, I’ll leave you with a general overview of the less romantic side of the hospitality industry… The expenses and the odds of survival.

Risky Business

It’s a dream shared by many office workers caught up in the drudgery of a thankless job: to leave their thankless positions, open up a restaurant, and share their favorite foods within the community sounds like a gig that’s too good to be true. Unfortunately, in most cases, it is. Restaurants can be the most difficult type of small business to start and become financially successful. It’s been estimated that within the first three years of operation, over 60% of all new restaurants in the US will have already failed and closed. There are many reasons that a restaurant may go under, but some of the most common culprits include the astronomical start up costs, a very competitive market place where big industry still rules, and profit margins that are very slim in the best of situations. It is certainly possible to run a profitable restaurant, as numerous small businesses throughout the country have proven, but that success is hard-won and well deserved. While any small business is a difficult endeavor, restaurants especially pose some of the greatest risks, and least promising returns.

There’s a good reason why restaurateurs frequently solicit investors to help get their concept off the ground, and it has to do with steep cost of turning their ideas into concrete reality. Rental fees for the space itself are just the start, but a prime location can quickly take a big bite out of the budget. A street-front store is more than just convenient; it’s almost like free advertising, since passersby are more likely to notice it and drop by on a whim. The financial hit may be hard to swallow, and other expenses can be taken on slowly, upgrading equipment as is possible, but a location can’t be changed without incurring even greater costs. The equipment, however, is no small expense either. Buying used can save a bit of money, but even the most basic set of tools such as ovens, refrigerators, and pans is liable to set one back between $100,000 – $300,000. That’s presuming that high-end specialty items aren’t needed, like fancy espresso machines or crystal-clear ice cube makers.

Banks are becoming increasingly reluctant to take a gamble and offer loans to newcomers in the restaurant business due to their high rate of failure. A rookie mistake would be to mortgage one’s home; it’s a move doomed to create further money woes in the future, or at the very least, put undue stress on anyone worried about losing it all. It’s important that one be financially stable before quitting one’s day job just so that they can break into the field. On top of the aforementioned start-up costs, don’t forget, there are expensive permits to cover, such as insurance, a liquor license, and food handlers permits for every employee hired. It can add up very quickly. After all that, there’s not even been a mention of the raw materials themselves- The food!

Food prices are at an all-time high all over the globe. Just in the past year, coffee and peanut-butter prices rose 19% and 27%, respectively. No one has been feeling that strain more acutely than those in the restaurant business. Although buying wholesale through specialty purveyors who deal only with restaurants will save money over buying food at retail prices, it’s a constant expense that will always need to be accounted for. Prices rise only higher for organic food, which can be a big selling point these days, but may or may not be worth the investment, depending on one’s customer base. Sometimes menus must be limited due to the costs of certain ingredients, which may spoil the original concepts of some owners. Luxury items like truffles or saffron can add up very quickly on their own, and most customers won’t be willing to make up the difference in the final bill. Immense pressure has been put on restaurateurs to keep costs down and offer affordable meals in this economic environment, so it can be incredibly challenging to formulate a menu that will strike potential consumers as a good deal, and still bring in a profit. On any given check for a full-service restaurant, after factoring in the costs of food, labor, and other incidentals, one can only expect to make between 1.8% to 3.5% profit in most cases. At that rate, it’s easy to see how it could truly take years to merely pay for the start-up costs and break even, let alone actually make a living wage.

Any additional competition added to the restaurant scene can cause strain on even established eateries, but that pressure is tenfold when national chains move in next door. In the race to offer the most affordable options, no one has the market cornered quite like restaurants franchises, and especially fast food establishments. Value menus are a boon to both indiscriminate eaters and the executives that think them up, because chains are able to buy very cheap food at incredible volumes so that each serving will cost them pennies, if that. Almost everything that the customer pays for is pure profit. Healthy food is more expensive, and that can be a deal breaker for some people, which in turn makes competition with these kings of cheap food near impossible for many new eateries, especially quick-serve establishments that fall in about the same category.

As romantic as the notion of opening up a restaurant from scratch may sound, the reality of the endeavor almost never matches up to the dream. The expenses that must be taken care of before the doors are even opened on a new restaurant typically are largely beyond what most newcomers would ever imagine, and are subsequently unprepared to take them on, even with the help of investors. Turning a profit is challenging on a good day, but when paired with the strain of making up those initial costs, most restaurateurs will never see a profits and losses report that is favorable. Add in the pressure of competing with the big boys of powerful, nation-wide chains that offer food at incredibly low prices to hungry consumers, and it’s no wonder that most restaurants can’t even survive their first year in business. It takes an enormous amount of determination, good planning, and a serious dose of luck for anyone to survive in such a hostile industry.


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The Writing on the Wall, Part Two

Sharing such a personal story was not easy for me, but I’m delighted and deeply touched by the positive response. Emboldened by that experience, I’d like to continue this writerly tangent, now with something drastically different from my typical content: A persuasive research essay. Groupon seems to have reached its breaking point since the time of the original writing, but it still flounders along, so I feel there are a few things remaining that must be said. Tell me, do you still buy Groupons or other similar online discounts? After reading the piece, was I able to persuade you otherwise?

Disastrous Discounts: Paying the Price for Groupon

Social purchasing is more popular than ever, and new websites offering deep discounts on services ranging from massages to kayaking classes are sprouting up every day. Groupon was arguably the trendsetter, beginning the craze and still drawing the greatest crowds; more than 50 million people subscribe to regular alerts and emails about current deals, and over 22 million Groupon deals have been sold as of January 2011. Most commonly though, the bulk of these prepaid vouchers are for purchasing food in restaurants. Poised as both a painless way to try new cuisines and a money-saving option for revisiting old favorites, it’s easy to see the allure of up to 70% off your receipt’s total. The deals may be booming, but what discount-seeking consumers may not know is that by buying into this trendy coupon game, they may actually be damaging the business they love most. Businesses that see flagging sales are more likely to participate in the first place, and it’s common that those deep discounts actually cut further into their bottom lines. Patrons who seek the cheapest options are unlikely to purchase more than their vouchers are good for, and thus each Groupon is accepted at a loss. Groupon may turn a nice profit from the collaboration since it’s not their merchandise or services on the line, but the small restaurants lose, big time. Whether a business fails or succeeds is entirely in the hands on the consumer, which means that this is one case where individuals can make a difference and vote with their dollars.

Anyone who cares enough to invest in a voucher coupon presumably wants their local eateries to stick around, provide more great deals, and of course the food that makes it all worthwhile. Outsourcing the discounts to a middle man is often the big problem, and one that patrons should ultimately avoid. That’s not to say that all coupons are bad for business owners, but seek instead for deals that come straight from the source. Many casual restaurants and coffee shops in particular already have customer loyalty programs which reward repeat businesses. Ask at the counter, and shoppers may be rewarded with a free beverage or appetizer after a certain number of purchases. It’s a nice bonus for being a regular, and a cost that’s more easily subsidized by the establishment in question.  Managers who don’t employ such a tactic may not have thought of it in the first place, so don’t hesitate to suggest starting up such a program to those not participating. Don’t be afraid to speak up; owners interested in pleasing their customers, and especially their loyal fan base, should be open to suggestions.

If the attraction to Groupon shopping is too great to shake altogether, a single discount deal won’t bankrupt a restaurant, but vouchers shouldn’t be like free meal tickets. Purchase Groupons sparingly and don’t be selfish.  Although Groupon and many similar websites allow users to purchase additional copies of the same deal as “gifts,” limit purchases to one of each offer. Although it’s against the terms of service to cash in “gifts” for oneself, it’s sadly a common practice, as an estimated 50% or more of these Groupon deals are in fact illegally cashed in by the original purchaser.  Additionally, be prepared to spend more than the total value of the deal, since that’s the only way that restaurants can break even. Most importantly, do not forget to tip, and tip well. Waiters and waitresses are often the first to suffer from patrons who abuse the system, and seem unwilling to part with a dime beyond their paper contracts. Tips are not included in these vouchers and there’s no excuse for bad tipping on good service.

Who would intentionally create such a short-sighted business plan, which damages its own sources of revenue? No one, and certainly not any savvy investors; Groupon was not designed to ruin restaurants. There’s good reason why it’s still influential and drawing new supporters, and that’s because for some, it does work the way its intended. When smart discounts and price points are set, proprietors can up-sell items and ultimately make a profit, in spite of the vouchers. What’s more, new customers can be attracted to the low prices at first, but become regulars once they finally try the venue. In a perfect world, this is the ideal outcome of a Groupon for both parties, and while it’s not impossible, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to achieve.

If it seems too good to be true, it probably is. Groupon fits perfectly into that concept, promising much more than it can ever hope to deliver. Although the customers are probably never clued into the damage they do, they hold the key to whether their internet-based vouchers make or break a restaurant in dire straits. Avoiding them altogether and simply supporting your local small businesses is the best tactic, because they need every dollar to stay afloat in these difficult times. The customer really does decide the fate of an establishment with both their fork and their money, so put them somewhere you can trust; not a faceless web-based company, but with the talented, hardworking chefs found right around the corner.


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The Writing on the Wall

And now, for something completely different: Since I’ve been a bit short on words lately, I wanted to share a few pieces previously written for an English composition class. We were tasked with writing a number of essays, all loosely related in theme. Read on for my memoir submission if you please, or skip away for this week. Bear in mind that this was written in the summer, and turned out to be foreshadowing later events… Your regularly programed recipes and reviews shall resume shortly!

Death of a Dream

Warning signs were everywhere; loud, obnoxiously glaring, aggressively bold, and unavoidable. Yet for weeks upon months, I simply clamped my eyes shut and rammed my fingers in my ears. Operating on the theory that if I don’t acknowledge the problem, then it didn’t exist, I was able to lull myself to sleep at night in a cocoon of ignorance. If only it were so simple.

Scheduled to speak at an organic food festival in NYC on one warm weekend in July, I arrived with too few hours of meaningful rest under my belt and no plan at all. Cookies and cake were baked, and free food is never a hard sell, so I strode blindly into the spotlight, banking on having a hungry audience and not much else. Mercifully, the crowd was abundant and ravenous for information as well as desserts, which led the way to a question and answer session far better than any lecture I could have prepared. The openness and genuine compassion was palpable; things moved right along at a steady clip, without a hitch. So when one innocent, unassuming question caught me off guard, even I was stunned at my response.

“Would you ever think of opening your own bakery?” The words floated out from nowhere at all, the speaker lost in a sea of faces. Final syllables lingered like a steadily growing fog in the air as I paused for an extra beat, deliberating how best to begin. Suddenly, without warning, I had to address the elephant in the kitchen.

From a place far away, seemingly removed from my own body, I heard myself begin to speak. “In some tiny, very quiet corner of my mind, I have this idea that it would be a really fun adventure…” I rambled as I tried to sort out the situation hastily, but the tone changed, my voice began to quake and shiver. I thought of Health in a Hurry, the restaurant that I considered a second home, of Sue Cadwell, my boss, mentor, and inspiration of six years running, and the tidal wave of all the red flags hit me full-force, sweeping me away in the undertow. The truth is, I could never open my own business after witnessing the struggle first hand.

Following the mental trail of breadcrumbs, I pieced together that gruesome puzzle to assess the damages. Months had passed since my last paycheck, and still I showed up for work when called upon. I may make minimum wage, and I may not work more than a day a week during slow times, but certainly I had earned more than the $50 I netted for the previous year of service. Then, there were those slow times themselves to take into consideration: How many business models can survive based on anticipating a total of three customers a day? How do a handful of $1 cookies, made with maple syrup and organic flours pay the electric bills, let alone turn a profit? Then there was the ambiguous threat of unspecified debt that periodically floated into conversations. Whether it was hundreds, thousands, or tens of thousands, only Sue knew for sure, but I didn’t get the sense that it was a minor sum, even in the most optimistic of mindsets.

Barring some incredible, unbelievable miracle, it was hard to imagine that the business could continue clinging to life, just barely scraping by, long enough to see another birthday. I saw my dreams in Sue’s dreams, my own imaginary bakery in her shop. A lovingly tended container garden decorated the scant outdoor space which blended with the parking lot beyond. Inspirational quotes adorned the bright green walls. Every inch of usable space was maximized and used to the fullest; some might call it cluttered, but to us, it was perfectly organized. The passion that went into crafting such an establishment was clear to anyone who ventured in for a meal.

Built on a foundation of organic, local produce, expenses were undeniably higher than most start-ups, and to make those wholesome meals accessible to all, it would be generous to describe the profit margins as slim. Slim to none is more like it. Hidden behind a whole building complex, without money to advertise, who was to even know our humble kitchen even existed? Perhaps the miracle here was that Health in a Hurry survived for so long in this hostile, viciously competitive marketplace.

Sue was far too optimistic to let on the true severity of the situation, but when it all became crystal clear when I caught sight of a long overdue bill. Abandoned on the prep counter and waving periodically in the gentle midday breeze, the temptation to peek was irresistible, and curiosity soon won out over any notions of privacy. I lay down my knife, stalks of celery neatly lined up and ready to be diced, and quickly darted over that mysterious paper. Numbers of unimaginable quantities, all printed in red, burned angrily before my eyes. Each one a tiny fire, together they threatened to engulf the shop in one giant blaze. As if the paper might somehow scald my open palms, I quickly set it back down where I found it, busying myself with work once again as if nothing had happened. I never mentioned the paper to Sue, and she never reported any financial problems to me.

It was immensely painful to sit idly by, watching as this place that is so close to my heart suffered. Like watching a terminally ill friend grow more sick, slowly being drained of life, it was destroying me from the inside out to see the warning signs pile up. Each one pointed to an end of the dream, to Sue’s grand mission to share her food philosophy, and possibly soon. I was deathly afraid to utter such words in front of this eagerly listening crowd, for fear of bringing that resolution even closer to a reality, but this was the harsh truth. Health in a Hurry was in grave danger. There can be great romanticism about the restaurant industry as imagined by the outsider, an idyllic vision of cooking up the dishes you dream about to regulars who love your palate and presentation. The truth is, it’s more than just a fun hobby, and it’s certainly not a game; it’s a business. When the number of dollars going in and out don’t add up, things may just get ugly, rotting from the bottom up until there’s no foundation left to build upon.

Snapping back to the question at hand and the curious faces in the crowd, I could only wonder how much of this I said aloud. The simple fact of the matter is, I was very scared. Scared to death that the only real job I had ever held may soon cease to exist, and that Sue’s dream may in fact fail, after fighting the good fight all this time. No, I could never open my own bakery, or restaurant, or any small business at all.


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Warmest Wishes

Even with unseasonably warm weather this January, it’s still a struggle to stay warm and cozy. A mug of hot tea or coffee does wonders, but for an extra special treat, nothing takes the chill off quite like a sip of rich, creamy hot chocolate. Thick enough to qualify as a dessert, my rendition gets an extra boost from bright gingerbread spices, plus the deep, earthy sweetness of molasses.

Gingerbread Hot Chocolate

3 Cups Unsweetened Non-Dairy Milk
1/4 Cup Molasses
1 1/4 Teaspoons Ground Ginger
1 Teaspoon Ground Cinnamon
1/4 Teaspoon Ground Nutmeg
1/4 Teaspoon Salt
6 Ounces (1 Cup) Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips
1 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract

In a medium saucepan over low heat, thoroughly whisk everything together except the vanilla. Continue to whisk gently until the chocolate melts smoothly and the mixture is hot. Mix in the vanilla after taking the saucepan off the heat. Serve and enjoy with someone you love.

Makes 4 – 6 Servings

Printable Recipe


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Plight of the Persimmon

Browning, bruised, and overlooked, the rare half-dozen persimmons nestled on the grocery store shelf hardly looked like winners. Though far from blameless, these overgrown orange berries don’t deserve the cold shoulder that consumers give, turning away to more common fare. Myself included, few understand the full culinary potential hidden within those mysterious fruits, and much of that stems from misunderstanding. Though I never did have the jarring experience of biting into an unripe Hachiya, an mistake sometimes likened to sampling industrial strength cleaner for all of its astringent, mouth-numbing properties, neither did I have the luck of eating a truly transcendent specimen. While some food writers waxed poetic about this oddball piece of produce, hundreds of recipes outnumbered those few, suggesting the least painful ways to bake and otherwise get rid of an unwanted surplus. So which was is: Pest or prize?

Last year, stumbling around one winter market in western Germany, I had the odd impulse to buy one. Smooth, plump, and as large as a softball, it seemed different from previous persimmons. Sporting an acorn-like point at the bottom, it was clearly an entirely different genus. A Fuyu, much firmer and easier to eat out of hand, provided my persimmon revelation. It was the best I had ever had, and still haven’t stumbled across one half as luscious since.

Much of the trouble centers around availability. Only Hachiya have appeared on shelves in my town, and by the time they arrive, it’s likely been weeks since they last saw sunshine. Though the wait allows them to fully ripen, it also gives them more time to be damaged or spoiled. Their flavor is subtle at best, sweet and vaguely floral, but now I understand why so many dessert recipes abound; While you’re searching high and low for that one perfect persimmon, here’s what to do with the rest of them.

When Hachiya persimmons are so ripe that their skin easily peels off and they practically puree themselves, that’s when you know they’re ready. Don’t rush your persimmons or they won’t be nearly sweet enough. Run them through your food processor briefly before use, just to smooth out the puree. Extra puree can be stored in an air-tight container in the freezer for up to 6 months. Should you have an overabundance of the goo, this small batch of soft, lightly spiced oatmeal cookies can be doubled, too.

Persimmon Oatmeal Cookies

1/2 Cup All Purpose Flour
1/2 Cup Whole Pastry Flour
1 Teaspoon 5-Spice Powder
1/4 Teaspoon Baking Powder
1/4 Teaspoon Salt
1 Cup Old-Fashioned Rolled Oats
1 Tablespoon Whole Flaxseeds, Ground
3/4 Cup Persimmon Puree
3/4 Cup Granulated Sugar
1/4 Cup Olive Oil
1/2 Teaspoon Vanilla Extract
1/4 Cup Toasted, Chopped Walnuts or Pecans

Icing:

1 Cup Confectioner’s Sugar
2 Tablespoons Persimmon Puree

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees and line a sheet pan with a silpat or piece of parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk together both flours, 5-spice, baking powder, salt, and ground flaxseeds, mixing thoroughly to combine the dry goods. In a separate bowl, stir the persimmon puree, sugar, oil, and vanilla together until smooth. Pour the wet goods into the bowl of dry, mixing with a wide spatula just until the batter begins to come together, being careful not to overwork it. Add in the walnuts, folding to distribute them evenly throughout.

Use a medium cookie scoop or two large spoons to drop between 1 1/2 – 2 tablespoons of batter per cookie on the prepared sheet. Allow at least an inch of space between the cookies, to allow room for them to spread. Pat the mounds down with lightly moistened fingers if they’re particularly heaped up in the centers.

Bake for 11 – 14 minutes, until golden around the edges and just barely set in the centers. Remove the silpat from the hot baking sheet, and let the cookies cool completely before preparing the icing.

For the icing, simply whisk together the confectioner’s sugar and persimmon puree until smooth. Drizzle generously over the tops of the cookies, and let air-dry for at least 12 hours to achieve a hard finish. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 5 days, or in the fridge for up to 2 weeks.

Makes About 1 Dozen Cookies

Printable Recipe

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