Cran You Dig It?

Cranberry beans are a confounding lot. Some of them fulfill their titled promise as gleaming crimson, magenta, and maroon-speckled ovoids, bearing a rough resemblance to the fruits of their namesake. Most, however, deviate from that path, appearing in spotty shades of tan, off-white, and even black.

As one may guess, with such a diverse family tree, this worldly bush bean is hard to sum up in a concise little bio. Better known to the Italians as borlotti beans and to Colombians as cargamanto beans, this American native is one worth knowing in any language.

The Un-cranny Origins of Cranberry Beans

Said to have originated in South and Central America, the earliest written records come from Spanish explorers in the 15th century, transporting their culinary discoveries to Europe. Gardeners can’t even agree if these Phaseolus vulgaris are bush beans, pole beans, both, or neither. Regardless, their most striking characteristic isn’t the actual edible bean, but the vibrantly streaked pink and red pods, only seen if you’re so fortunate to find them fresh. Start searching your local farmers markets from late summer through early fall for a real savory treat. Shelling them is a meditative joy, and their flavor is unmatched.

What Do Cranberry Beans Taste Like?

Dried cranberry beans, of course, are most common and available all year round. Frequently compared to (and sadly substituted with) pinto beans, it’s a grave disservice to sell them so far short. Though they’re both about the same size, shape, and (sometimes) color, pinto beans will puree themselves if you look at them too hard. Cranberry beans stand firm, without being mealy, bearing a toothsome yet creamy, meaty texture that makes it a popular addition to soups and stews. Their mildly nutty, almost chestnut-like flavor plays well with others, whether kept very lightly seasoned or paired with more potent players.

Traditional Dishes Around the World

Given their extensive history spanning many countries, cranberry beans are associated with a number of beloved traditional dishes.

  • Italy: Pasta e Fagioli & Minestrone
    In Italian kitchens, cranberry beans are often the star of pasta e fagioli, a rustic soup of beans and pasta, simmered with garlic, rosemary, and olive oil. They also frequently make an appearance in minestrone, adding body and protein to the vegetable-rich broth.
  • Portugal: Feijão à Portuguesa
    This traditional Portuguese dish features cranberry beans stewed with tomatoes, onions, garlic, and sometimes chouriço (smoked sausage). It’s served with rice or crusty bread.
  • Brazil: Feijão Tropeiro
    Though typically made with black beans, regional variations use cranberry beans sautéed with cassava flour, greens, and spices. It’s a dish born from the resourcefulness of traveling merchants and remains a comfort food classic.
  • United States: Three Sisters
    Native Americans passed on their wisdom of bringing together the essential combination of corn, beans, and squash. The cranberry bean helps fix nitrogen and add nutrients that replenish the soil, making it a beneficial addition for both the planet and the planters.

In today’s global kitchen, the sky’s the limit. They’re fantastic tossed into salads, blended into veggie burgers, made into meatless loaves and balls, and pureed as creamy bean dip.

How To Cook Cranberry Beans

Like any larger legume, cranberry beans can benefit from an overnight soak. They’ll cook faster when they hit the heat and be more digestible in the long run. Drain the soaking water and cook in six to eight times as much fresh water by volume.

  • Stove top: Over medium heat, bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cover. Cook for about 1 hour, adding more water if too much evaporates; they should always remain submerged.
  • Pressure cooker: Cook on high pressure for 20 minutes, then allow for a natural release.
  • Slow cooker: Add enough water to cover the beans by at least an inch, cover, and cook on low for 10 – 12 hours.

Drain well and enjoy hot, or let cool and store in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 10 days.

Fresh cranberry beans are a whole different ball park. Once shelled, they only need to be simmered with enough water to barely cover for about 10 minutes. Then, you can sauté them with garlic, toss them into salads, and so much more.

Nutrition in Every Nook and Cranny

Beans are the undisputed nutritional champions of the world, bearing volumes of affordable plant protein and fiber in every serving. Cranberry beans are no different, with the added benefit of being notably high in B-vitamins, folate, zinc, manganese copper, calcium, and potassium. Especially high in antioxidants thanks to their trademark coloring, they’re a smart choice for overall health and well being.

When all is said and done, cranberry beans have nothing to do with their fruity namesake. They don’t look like cranberries. They don’t taste like cranberries. They don’t bounce or float like cranberries. The only explanation for their name is that some person with some misappropriated authority had a far more imaginative interpretation of the legume than warranted. The only parallel that can be drawn is that they’re sort of, sometimes, vaguely, red.

Thankfully, none of that matters once you’ve tasted them. Whatever the name, these heirloom beans are at the top of their class. Names may mislead, colors may fade, but such singular texture and unmistakable flavor endures through generations for a reason.

Noodles You Should Know: Yen Ta Fo

As pungent as it is vibrant, there’s no mistaking yen ta fo. Known for their unearthly pink color, these eye-catching noodles are an arresting sight, luminous bowlfuls of broth in night markets across Thailand. So bold that it borders on theatrical, yet its origins are anything but artificial.

From Teochew to Thai

Yen ta fo (เย็นตาโฟ) is Thai street food at its best; a riotous mosaic of contrasting textures and tastes. Soft rice noodles, ranging from delicately thin vermicelli to luxuriously wide sen yai, bathe in that unmistakable pink soup, introduced through a curtain of steam. Its origins are somewhat of a collage as well, owing much to its Chinese roots, brought over by Teochew (Chaozhou) immigrants to Thailand. The name itself comes from the Chinese dialects, with “yen” meaning red or pink, and “ta fo” derived from “dou fu” (tofu).

Pretty in Pink, Funky in Flavor

The tofu in question is the single most important part of the dish, the defining factor that imparts that unforgettable rosy hue. Fermented bean curd, preserved with salt, rice wine, and chilies, melts into the broth with a slow-building intensity that lingers in both color and flavor. Its pungency is complex, funky and brash, but also surprisingly mellow when simmered. Some unscrupulous vendors enhance their soup with food coloring, though such shenanigans are wholly unnecessary when working with the genuine article.

Build Your Bowl

What goes into the bowl after that is part tradition, part personal preference. Most renditions begin with the usual suspects of Thai noodle soup, such as airy tofu puffs, tendrils of morning glory (water spinach), mushrooms (most often wood ear, AKA black fungus), wonton chips, and crunchy fried garlic. Historically a seafood-focused dish, the standard build would usually feature various fish balls, squid, sliced fish cake, or the occasional pink-tinged crab stick, though fully vegan versions aren’t too hard to come by.

Season and Slurp

Yen ta fo isn’t meant to be perfectly balanced out of the kitchen. Like many Thai noodle soups, it arrives awaiting your hand at the condiment station. Here, you can fine-tune the experience with a splash of vinegar for brightness, a touch of sugar to amplify the sweetness, chili flakes or chili oil for heat, and a dash of vegan fish sauce for that crave-worthy hit of umami.

Pink of Perfection

For all its flamboyance, yen ta fo is an everyday dish, which is a large part of its appeal. Accessible, affordable, and ubiquitous across Thailand’s markets and food courts, all the locals know the marvels of yen ta fo. It rarely makes its way to Western menus, perhaps because of its peculiar color or its potentially polarizing flavors. That’s a real shame, because yen ta fo is a real sensory delight in its juxtapositions; dressed in neon pink but grounded in deep, savory flavors, its beautiful chaos in a bowl.

Pot Roast with the Most

Any brisket could be pot roast, but not all pot roasts are brisket. Confused yet? Once and for all, to set the record straight:

Brisket is a specific cut of meat. Pot roast is a method of preparation.

This is what I tell myself, as if it was that neat and clean, but the truth is the lines are blurry and overlapping, especially depending on who you ask. Brisket can become a pot roast if you toss it into a slow cooker, drowning it in broth and aromatics until it practically shreds itself. You could call that a Jewish pot roast with ease, but a born-and-bred Texan might run you right out of town for that declaration. In these parts, brisket must be smoked low and slow over dry heat, not stewed into oblivion.

Hot Take for a Hot Pot

In the spirit of the holidays, let’s just say that everyone’s right. Let’s put down the pitch forks and pick up the dinner forks, shall we? I made a more conventional take on a vegan holiday brisket last year, which I still consider one of my crowning culinary achievements. This time around, to make something I could classify as a pot roast, I thought it was high time to examine the meat of the matter.

Hen-of-the-Woods in Every Pot

Now, the star of the show isn’t seitan, but mushrooms. Big, feathery clusters of maitake, also called hen-of-the-woods, with their wild, ruffled edges and umami depth that’s downright meaty, maintain a distinctly fibrous yet tender texture, not unlike shredded beef. The protein not the cut for pot roast is a crucial element of what makes the dish, which is why it translates so seamlessly to a plant-based table.

Marvels of Maitake

I used dried maitake here not just for their concentrated flavor or long shelf life, though both are undeniable perks, but because they’re the embodiment of wealth and abundance for me. Every fall, my mom forages them from the wilderness of suburban Connecticut, scouring the base of old oaks with the focus of a seasoned treasure hunter. She dries them carefully, filling mason jars and brown paper bags with feathery clusters that smell like the forest floor after rain. Rehydrated, they spring back to life with even more intensity, deep and woodsy with a hint of smoke. You could substitute roughly a pound of fresh maitake if you don’t have that same incredible fortune.

A Pot Roast by Any Other Name

Somewhere, a food purist is clutching their pearls, muttering about prime cuts and the Maillard reaction. They’ll say it’s not a roast if it doesn’t begin with marbled beef and end in pan drippings. But when I press a spoon against a tender heap of maitake mushrooms that have been stewed into supple submission, bathed in onion-y gravy and served alongside carrots and potatoes that melt in you mouth, I’m not thinking about taxonomy. I’m thinking about warmth, comfort, and how the house smells like the Hanukkahs of my childhood.

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Crunch Time: The Supreme Crunchwraps of Austin, TX

For a food icon that set off a craze, inspired innumerable imitators, and changed the very definition of “Mexican” food, the original Crunchwrap Supreme from Taco Bell is a bit of a let down. In how many other instances is the original perpetually surpassed by copycats?

Don’t get me wrong, it will always have a place in the fast food pantheon, especially for having a naturally vegan alternative baked right into the menu. On a long road trip into No Where, America, or when all reasonable establishments have turned in for the night, it’s the absolute height of culinary accomplishments. While paying homage to its legacy, I want to say how much better its become after chefs took notice, and took things into their own hands.

Humble Beginnings

The Crunchwrap Supreme saw a short but meteoric rise to fame right out of the gate. Unveiled as a limited release in 2005, it soon became a permanent staple the following year. A testament to the ingenuity of the Taco Bell creatives, it’s nothing more than the same ingredients (tortillas, lettuce, tomatoes, etc.) repackaged in a novel way to make the eating experience feel brand new.

The vegetarian Black Bean Crunchwrap Supreme was soon to follow, swapping the questionable “ground beef” for beans, which is instantly veganized by the request to make it “fresco style,” AKA, replacing cheese, queso, and sour cream with pico de gallo.

Universal Appeal

Folded into a flat hexagon rather than being rolled like a burrito, the Crunchwrap is all about textural contrast. Grilled layers of tortilla encase a hard tostada shell, creating the signature crunch in the center, flanked by a smattering of legumes and reasonably fresh vegetables. Designed to be doused in hot sauces to taste, it’s anything you want it to be. Unchallenging, comforting in its familiarity, yet different enough to prevent palate fatigue, that winning combination catapulted it to legendary status in no time.

While a potentially game-changing fully plant-based edition was announced by Taco Bell this summer, featuring actual meatless grounds for protein and dairy-free nacho sauce, it was short lived, both in access and overall lifespan. Only a few lucky cities were blessed with this limited entree, unlikely to return or see a wider release. 

Modern Innovations

There will always be a place in my heart for the classic, especially on a budget. However, the next generation of artisan Crunchwraps are what have cemented the humble assembly as a cult classic. While the list of vegan hits is short and savory here in Austin, Texas, across the city, you’ll find indie takes that push the format into bold, brilliant new territory.

Best Vegan Crunchwraps in Austin, Texas


The Vegan Nom

Having made their name as the premier 100% vegan taco truck, I should have known that The Vegan Nom would knock this Tex-Mex legend out of the park, and out of several other parks without stopping. Due to the outdoor nature of the establishment and the absolutely punishing summer heat, their Crunchwrap Supreme was the last one I grabbed on my quest, and was unequivocally my favorite. Resoundingly crunchy, inside and out thanks to an immaculate sear, it’s densely packed with well-seasoned beefless grounds, both shredded vegan cheese and queso, avocado, the standard fleet of fresh veggies, and sour cream. Don’t forget to drench it in jalapeño aioli, which is daintily served on the side but quickly ended up smeared all over my hands, face, pants, shirt, and car. Yes, I did attempt to drink it straight, too.

Revolution Vegan Kitchen

Staking their claim as the #1 rival to Taco Bell, Revolution Vegan Kitchen has strategically titled their entry to the field as a Munch Wrap to avoid potential litigation. If the execs of Yum! Brands got their hands on one of these, they’d be so blown away by the rival that they might just forget to send the cease-and-desist. Everything on this beautiful behemoth is made from scratch, right down to the unbelievably gooey cheese and meaty TVP grounds. That attention to detail and refusal of shortcuts coalesces into a completely grease-less, fresh, and flavorful bundle that still hits all the right notes of nostalgic indulgence.

Mission Burger Co.

It feels like a minor crime to bypass the burgers at Mission Burger Co., but laws don’t apply when we’re talking about The Crunchwrap. This thing is the stuff of legends, absolutely loaded with steaming hot Impossible carne asada. This one is easily the meatiest build on this list, making it exceptionally hearty, satisfying, and downright juicy. Queso, guacamole, and sour cream make it a downright decadent bundle of joy. Expertly griddled on the outside, it’s a marvel of modern engineering that the lettuce stays fresh and crisp inside. Every individual layer could stand alone, full-bodied and well-seasoned, and work just as well together in concert.

Taco Pegaso

Crafted by chef Leslie Durso for a newly introduced vegan menu at Taco Pegaso, the Plant-Based Crunch Wrap was absolutely the standout dish of the whole bill of fare. For one, it’s actually crunchy, corn tostada standing tall in the center despite the weight of multiple sauces bearing down. Abbot’s chorizo plays a starring role for the protein, bringing in a meaty heft and piquant seasoning. You’ve got all the staples to back it up with beans, rice, queso, sour cream, and crisp veggies to lighten the load. Remarkably well-contained, this is one of the cleanest, most structurally sound Crunchwraps I’ve plowed through. As someone liable to end up with half a burrito in their lap on a good day, that’s saying something.

Eldorado Cafe

When you want to spice things up, the Vegan Crunchwrap Supreme from Eldorado Cafe is the thing for you. This one has a real bite from pickled jalapenos, spicy salsa, and homemade chorizo. Their refried black beans are honestly my favorite part; I could eat a big bowl of them, ungarnished, like soup. Local brand Credo queso steps up to provide that gooey, cheesy factor that makes it feel like an indulgence. Granted, it also skews the assembly to err on the wetter side, making it eat more like a sloppy, misshapen burrito than anything else. The crunch is not in the room with us, no matter how good the flavors are.

Wrapping Things Up

What began as a bit of food science and psychology has become a cultural touchstone. The Crunchwrap endures because it adapts, making itself at home amidst the high brow, the low brow, and everything in between. It’s just as likely to show up on a curated vegan menu as it is in a crumpled drive-thru bag. In a city like Austin, where food is both statement and sustenance, the Crunchwrap looms large in our imaginations and on our plates alike, though it lasts longer in the former than on the latter.