Wordless Wednesday: Bread-y, Set, Go!

Tofurky Ham Sandwich
PostinoBruschetta Board
Next Level Burger – Sunrise Sub
Dish Society – Vegetarian Pita Wrap
Desilicious Cafe – Veg Kothu Parotta
Community Vegan – Chick’n Sliders with Fried Okra
Bodhi Viet Vegans – Eggplant Banh Mi
Bistro Vonish – Roast Beet & Panelle Sandwich

Like A Rolling Scone

In the same way that a British “biscuit” is very different from an American “biscuit,” Scottish potato scones were nothing like what I had envisioned. Scones have a good deal of natural variation to begin with; some are buttery and flaky, while others are fluffy and cake-like. A comparable pastry is what I thought would grace my plate, but what I got was something else entirely. Truth be told, I was so overwhelmed by the breadth and depth of delicious items on a full breakfast platter that I didn’t realize until recounting the meal later, beginning to describe the unusual triangular flatbread when it hit me: That was the scone.

What Are Potato Scones, AKA Tattie Scones?

Potato scones, unlike their loftier baked brethren, are unleavened quick breads cooked on the stove top. Leftover mashed potatoes are the key to their soft, tender texture, and a thrifty way to prevent food waste while stretching a limited budget. In some ways, they’re like giant pan-fried gnocchi that’s cut into wedges, though they have more in common with Bannocks, another specialty of the British Isles. Potatoes are charmingly referred to as “tatties” in Scotland or sometimes “totties,” particularly in Glasgow, to explain their more informal name.

Old World Flavor, Modern Methods

Personally, I’ve rarely been graced with leftover mashed potatoes. When I make them for dinner, they’re the main attraction. They’re barely even a memory when it comes time for breakfast the next day. When it comes to making tattie scones, it’s more efficient to simply use instant mashed potatoes; you get more consistent results in terms of texture, there’s no additional cooking required, and you can leave the masher in the drawer where it’s already firmly wedged.

Scone Your Own

As a basic subsistence food, classic tattie scones are unadorned and unbothered. I’ve laid out the essential formula, but found them much tastier after adding some mixed dried herbs. For additional richness, use melted vegan butter instead of olive oil, and you can even pan fry them in additional butter or oil for a decadent finish. I found that they really didn’t need much added fat when using a nonstick pan, and to go in the opposite direction, you could make them entirely oil-free if desired. They’re just that versatile! Naturally, you could swap in fresh mashed potatoes as well, and to that end, mashed sweet potatoes, pumpkin puree, or any other starchy vegetable you prefer. The amount of flour will vary depending on your choices, so just measure with your heart. You can’t go too far wrong.

Serving Scones With Style

Though often seen as a breakfast food, tattie scones are welcome at the table for any meal.

  • For breakfast: Enjoy them instead of toast with your eggless scramble, spread with butter and jam, or top with peanut butter and sliced bananas.
  • For lunch: Serve alongside soup, cut into croutons for salad, or fill two wedges to made a sandwich.
  • For snack: Scoop up hummus, guacamole, or dip into seasoned olive oil.
  • For dinner: Treat them like little flatbread pizzas and top with marinara sauce, vegan cheese, and any meatless or veggie toppings you like.

Mash Hits

Potatoes can do no wrong. Tattie scones may not look like much, but that modesty is part of the appeal; humble, adaptable, and deeply satisfying in a way that only comfort food can be. What started as a surprise on a breakfast plate has turned into a new staple in my kitchen. Sometimes the best discoveries are the ones you never see coming. Whether you’re rolling out a traditional Scottish breakfast or simply looking for a new way to highlight the beloved spud, these unassuming savories are well worth a spot on your table.

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Just Nuts

Simple pleasures are what feel like genuine luxuries to me. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not a fancy person; I don’t crave fine dining and I’d rather go foraging for food than shop at Erewhon, any day of the week.

Along those lines, I think about Marcona almonds as an attainable indulgence, but only once in a while. After all, the “queen of almonds” wouldn’t taste as royal if they became a daily habit, right? Skinless, buttery, with a soft yet crisp bite, they’re just nuts like any others, yet somehow so much more. When I see a neat little bowl of these tawny gems on display, I know we’re talking real money here.

As such, I don’t make Marcona almond money. I do, however, always have a stash of standard nonpareil almonds on hand, which are easily elevated to a level of greater opulence with just a touch of olive oil. What separates these nuts from the rest of the bushel is a higher fat content, so why not give them a little boost? Briefly frying the kernels in grassy, peppery olive oil gently cracks through their thin skins to infuse the meat inside.

Sizzling and popping in the pan, they unleash a cacophony of joyful sounds as their toasted, nutty scent fills the air. Merely the act of cooking them is a pleasure, long before they ever cross your lips. The whole experience of it never fails to brighten my day.

Seasoned gently with herbaceous rosemary, sweet orange, and delicate flaky salt, there’s no secret ingredient here. No crazy technique, no surprise twist. What you see is what you get, and what you get is even better than the combination sounds on paper. Yes, you need to use a generous amount of oil, which is worth it for this snack and beyond. Save the excess for cooking later to instantly boost the flavor of your next dish!

It doesn’t take great sums of money to feel rich. The simplest things, treated with love and respect, will get you there, too.

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Fisherman’s Lure

If there’s any dish that represents the history and heritage of San Francisco, it’s cioppino. Even more so than the storied loaves of sourdough bread produced in droves around the bay, this humble yet simultaneously opulent dish has sustained generations. Tomatoes and seafood meet in an herbaceous broth spiked with white wine, embodying elegance without ostentation. It’s the working person’s humble indulgence, paying homage to the bounty of the region. The lack of plant-based seafood options put me off of attempting to replicate it for far too long. It turns out, nature already has a fantastic alternative to offer: mushrooms.

Mushrooms: The New Seafood

Yes, of course mushrooms! Varieties like king oyster mushrooms, maitake (AKA, hen of the woods), and shiitake, all featured prominently in this rich brew, make excellent seafood alternatives for a few key reasons:

  • Texture: Mushrooms have a naturally meaty and chewy texture, especially the small, thick caps of Donko Sugimoto Shiitake, evocative of scallops or shrimp when cooked.
  • Umami: Mushrooms, particularly dried shiitake, are rich in umami, which is also a crucial tasting note found in seafood. This depth of flavor comes from compounds like glutamate, inosinate, and guanylate, which are the uniquely potent trio that Sugimoto Shiitake brings to the table.
  • Absorbency: Mushrooms are known for their ability to absorb and enhance the flavors of whatever they are cooked with. When seasoned with seafood-like ingredients (such as seaweed, lemon, garlic, and herbs), mushrooms can take on flavors that mimic those of the sea.
  • Nutrition: While mushrooms don’t provide the same exact nutritional profile as seafood, they do offer important nutrients, including protein, fiber, and various vitamins and minerals.

Chip In For Cioppino

Legend has it that fishermen of yore would all “chip in” a bit of the day’s catch to make a communal vat of stew to share, and if you can imagine that with an Italian accent, the origin of the name would be clear. Others, however, see a more concrete link through the Italian word “ciuppin,” which means “to make soup from fish” or “little soup” in Ligurian dialect. In either case, it illustrates the beauty of this dish, which is infinitely adaptable. Built upon whatever was available at the end of a hard day’s work, there are no hard and fast rules. Had those founding San Franciscans set off into the forests instead of the sea, I’m confident there would be more foraged finds, like earthy wild mushrooms, added to the pot.

Cook Quickly, Savor Slowly

Romantic as the ideas of soup simmering on the stove may be, rarely do I have the time to babysit an all-day affair like that. Instead, I’m coming in hot with a quick-fix approach, taking advantage of my trusty pressure cooker. After sautéing the aromatics, it only takes 10 minutes under pressure to yield buttery-soft mushrooms and meltingly tender vegetables. Should you still want to take this to the stove, it’s easily feasible in an hour or two, tops.

Souper Stew

Cioppino is a complete thought, and thus, a complete one-pot meal. That said, it does beg for a wedge of crusty bread (yes, sourdough) to best sop up all the rich broth. If you’re having friends over and want to stretch it further, a peppery arugula salad would be an excellent counterpoint and of course, it pairs beautifully with a dry white wine. Plan to buy an extra bottle, just in case.

Tides of Change

Just as the tides of San Francisco Bay ebb and flow, so too does the legacy of cioppino evolve, shaped by time, necessity, and now, compassion. While the classic version pays tribute to seafaring traditions, this mushroom-forward interpretation speaks to a modern mindset, valuing sustainability without sacrificing depth of flavor. It’s remarkable how these humble fungi can bridge such a wide culinary gap, offering a taste of the ocean while staying firmly rooted to the forest floor. Tradition isn’t something we preserve—it’s something we reinvent.

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