Endless Einkorn Pastabilities

I very nearly destroyed my stand mixer trying to make einkorn pasta. I’m no stranger to the art of pasta making thanks to a brief but immersive obsession during COVID19, so I had full confidence that this simple experiment would be a wild success.

I was wildly wrong.

Wads of wet, sticky, yet impossibly thick dough clogged the extruding attachment from top to bottom, inexorably stuck in pasta purgatory. No amount of prodding could convince it to come out, nor additional flour, water, or even oil. Only time could heal this wound, letting the einkorn paste dry up to a point where I could chisel it out a few days later. I vowed then and there that I would never make einkorn pasta again. Fortunately for me and you, I don’t have to.

Buy, Don’t DIY

Grand Teton Ancient Grains, my favorite resource for whole grains and the instigators of my whole einkorn infatuation, now make luxurious long strands of einkorn angel hair, spaghetti, and linguine. This stuff is the real deal, made with 100% einkorn semolina and nothing else. No filler, no nonsense. That means they pack a punch, nutritionally speaking, with more than twice the amount of protein as standard white flour pasta. It’s a good thing they’re packed in two-pound bulk bags because I can’t keep my hands off of these beauties.

Bronze Takes First Place

Bronze-cut pasta is the gold standard for quality pasta production, pioneered by the Italians in the 17th century. Otherwise known as trafilata al bronzo, the bronze dies create a rougher surface as the dough is extruded. That means the resulting noodles have a more satisfying bite and are better suited to capturing and holding on to whatever sauces you throw at them. The technique fell out of favor as modern manufacturing demanded faster turnaround times, but the difference is obvious. Modern bronze-cut pasta exemplifies a philosophy of patience and respect for ingredients without having to say a word.

Taste Beyond Compare

While the deep flaxen hue may look like standard whole wheat, the flavor is anything but. Subtly sweet and delicate, there’s none of the off-putting bitterness that the bran of modern wheat can impart. Naturally buttery, honeyed, and slightly toasted, it has a softer, rounder flavor that doesn’t dominate sauces. Einkorn pasta gives you the best of all worlds.

Guardian Angels

Angel hair is typically my last choice when cravings come calling, but this version grants it a massive upgrade on the noodle hierarchy. After a mere two minutes in the water, they’re already supple and ready to serve, yet stronger than the average gossamer strands. Tender without collapsing, delicate without disappearing, I finally understand the enduring appeal of this much maligned noodle.

Spaghetti Theory

Einkorn spaghetti invites a bolder approach. Thicker and more robust, it has the structure to stand up to assertive flavors and sturdier mix-ins without losing its elegance. This is the pasta I reached for when making Dirty Martini Pasta, where briny olives, sharp citrus, and glossy olive oil demand a noodle with both backbone and nuance. Einkorn’s naturally earthy flavor softens the high notes, keeping the dish balanced rather than abrasive. Each bite feels cohesive; salty, silky, and just indulgent enough to honor such sophisticated cocktail inspirations.

Lingering Over Linguine

Wider lengths of linguine possess a certain grounded grandeur. Like slightly flattened ribbons, it has a natural grace that makes it feel composed even before sauce even enters the picture. It holds space beautifully, lending a hearty bite to any dish it stars in, and yes, it will easily steal the spotlight. This is the kind of pasta that invites intention, rewarding thoughtful pairings rather than excess.

Eat Like a Rockefeller

That balance made it the obvious choice for making Oyster Mushrooms Pastafeller, a plant-forward nod to the flavors of Oysters Rockefeller. Feathery oyster mushrooms take on the role of velvety seared seafood, bolstered by briny capers and kelp granules, while herbs, aromatics, and richness envelope the whole dish. Al dente linguine entwines in a comforting tangle, paying proper homage to the inspiration without attempting imitation.

While I’m not happy about the original pasta maker mishap, it does give me a greater appreciation for the artistry that goes into a ready-made solution. The difference is knowing when to let go of DIY bravado and trust true craftsmanship. That’s what made Oyster Mushroom Pastafeller possible and ready on a whim, without bringing out the heavy artillery. Grand Teton Ancient Grains delivers einkorn pasta that honors the grain without asking you to wrestle it into submission. Sometimes the smartest move isn’t trying harder, but choosing better.

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Love, Through Rosé Colored Glasses

Having reached the ripe old age of 37 with zero romantic prospects, I’m clearly not the person you should be seeking for Valentine’s Day advice. I may not know a thing about conventional relationships, but that doesn’t stop me from celebrating love in all forms. The traditional view of love feels the most foreign to me, defined more by what it isn’t than what it is, reserved for just one, rather than all. Beyond fireworks and butterflies, grand gestures and soul mates, love is in the details; love is as simple as kindness.

Cheers, to All Forms of Love

I’d like to raise a glass to love, to those with and without partners. Even if you’re alone on Valentine’s Day, let’s not forget about self love, which is arguably the most important kind of all. Selfish? Yes, and it’s important to be selfish at times. As many have told me when I grouse about the idea of “deserving” x, y, or z, you can’t pour from an empty cup. To that, I’d suggest you fill your own champagne flute first.

French 75, with a Twist

One of my favorite drinks of the moment is the French 75. Classic, classy, and always welcome at any party, it’s been described as a Tom Collins in a Tuxedo. That is to say, a combination of gin, lemon, and simple syrup topped off with champagne. Variations are endless given that simple start: A French 95 swaps gin for bourbon, and a French 125 opts for cognac instead. Personally, I’d like a rosier outlook for a lovely little indulgence.

The Pink of Perfection

Prickly Pear & Rose Waterloo Gin was the inspiration, lending a floral flavor and tint to the drink. Finishing with sparkling rosé instead of plain Brut Champagne was only natural, softening the hints of juniper to an incredibly nuanced, gently blushing spritz. The prickly pear adds a subtly rounded sweetness, the rose wafts through like perfume on a silk scarf, and the bubbles do what bubbles do best, by lifting everything up.

If Valentine’s Day feels heavy, complicated, or hollow, let this be your permission to reclaim it. Make something beautiful just for yourself. Toast to the people you adore, the ones who lift you up, and the version of you that’s still growing, learning, trying. Love can be as soft as a pink drink in a chilled flute, enjoyed in your own quiet company.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments

Newman’s Old Cookies

Twenty years is an incredibly long time when it comes to the lifespan of most products, and even the brands themselves. Combing through the archives to revisit the blog’s first years of life, it’s striking just how few of my earliest review features are still on the market. Rest in peace, my beloved Sweet & Sara marshmallows. May your memory be a blessing, Sunergia soy feta. Until we meet again, Luna tea cakes. I’ll see you in hell, Righteously Raw bars. I could go on, but there was one remarkable finding that snapped me out of that sad spiral: the very first thing I ever reviewed is still on store shelves, nationwide, to this day.

Newman-O’s, one of the earliest “healthy” Oreo doppelgangers that told us it was okay to eat cookies as long as they were organic, seems largely unchanged after two decades. The biggest difference is the label, bold and colorful, redesigned to capture what little attention spans shoppers have left. I thought this was the perfect opportunity to reopen my investigation to see if they still hold up to scrutiny.

Newman’s Own Organics launched the iconic Newman-O’s in 1993, the first line to expand the company’s offerings beyond their initial dressings and sauces. In addition to the Original sandwich crèmes up for re-examination today, additional flavors include Chocolate Crème, Mint, Peanut Butter, Strawberry, and Vanilla. Sadly, Ginger-O’s quietly disappeared from store shelves post pandemic, never to return. Of course, this was my favorite one. Yet again, my approval seems to be the ultimate kiss of death.

Oreo is said to be the world’s best-selling cookie, though Newman-O’s are hardly concerned about competing or dominating in any arena. 100% of the profits go to charity, which should make it a bit easier to swallow the $6.99 – 9.99 price tag, which is easily two or three times more than “America’s Favorite” cookie. Ostensibly, you’re paying for quality; organic flour and sugar, and no trans fats, high‑fructose corn syrup, or partially hydrogenated oils. Does it all add up when it comes to flavor, though?

Yes and no.

Yes, this is a solid sandwich cookie. Crisp chocolate wafers enclose a creamy white filling, balancing out the subtly bitter edge of the cocoa with a blast of vanilla frosting sweetness. They dissolve easily when dunked in non-dairy milk, melting away in the mouth without leaving a greasy residue. The two halves cleave away cleanly, satisfying for anyone that prefers to deconstruct their dessert to eat the components separately. Uncomplicated, they’re easy to love at any age.

No, it’s not vastly different from the experience of eating an Oreo. Maybe it’s the placebo effect that lends them the impression of having a cleaner finish and flavor, or that you can feel better about making a “smarter” choice. Eaten side by side, without the respective logos embossed on top, it might be difficult to tell them apart. That, however, is honestly a win for Newman. To offer the same addictive qualities as such a well-loved cookie, without sacrificing quality ingredients is a certain kind a coup.

I’m amazed, impressed, and relieved that Newman-O’s remains exactly as I remember it from my first foray into reviewing food. Before sponsorship, work for trade, influencers, and all the other noise muddying up the field, this is one I chose to buy with my own money, and still do.

Hannah (BitterSweet)7 Comments

Emerald Anniversary: 20 Years of BitterSweet

Twenty years. Two decades. I’ve already said it again and again, out loud and in my own head, and the numbers still don’t make sense. True, I was never any good at math, but I just don’t understand. How could it possibly be twenty years since BitterSweet began? I’ve been blogging longer than I haven’t, more than half of my life, a constant thread tethering me back to the world when I felt I could just as easily disappear. Looking back, I’m not entirely sure if it’s the blog that shaped my life, or my life that developed around the blog. They’re simply too deeply enmeshed, impossibly intertwined, to pick apart.

How it all started; the earliest form of BitterSweet

I never went into this with any bigger picture in mind. The only goal was to share the things I loved, and hopefully use that as a conduit to connect with more people of like minds. While the golden era of blogging is long past, as evidenced by the rarity of finding a dinosaur of a twenty year-old blog, I’d say I’ve been wildly successful in that regard. When publishers shot down my pitches, when brands turned me down for TikTokers who sing and dance, I still had this space that encouraged my creativity, supported my madness, and kept me going when the world at large told me to stop.

I’ve spent the better part of the past six months agonizing over how to commemorate such a huge milestone. The big two-oh only rolls around once, and I can’t begin to imagine if blogs will even exist another twenty years from now. Watching the date drawing ever closer, there was no idea grand enough, nor reasonably attainable, to do my beloved BitterSweet proper justice. Maybe it was time to make a mini cookbook, the Best of BitterSweet, available in print, or at least a zine? Or just an e-book? Barring that, perhaps a twenty-layer cake?

Emeralds Aren’t Forever, But Potentially Delicious

Finally, in the eleventh hour, it came to me: I was taking this entirely too seriously. The reason that I’ve been able to sustain this living archive, feeding it thrice weekly, every week, is that I just do whatever I want. I don’t do SEO properly, I don’t monetize it enough, I don’t use social media to its full potential, but you know what? That’s not what feeds my soul. I just need this to be my creative outlet, full of weird, wild, sometimes off-putting things. To that end, I strongly considered making an Emerald Salad Ring to honor the traditional 20-year anniversary gemstone, but ultimately, something sweet (and less repugnant) felt more fitting.

Edible Gems

Pandan candy emeralds, a stylized take on Japanese kohakutou, are essential shards of sweetened agar that are aged until sugar crystallizes on the outside. The interior remains soft like jelly for a crave-worthy textural contrast. Using pandan flavoring means the green color is already built in, bringing the ingredients list to a grand total of three, water and edible glitter not included. Brilliantly simple, recklessly creative, unconventionally delightful; Sounds like BitterSweet, alright.

I’m not one for grand gestures so I leave you with this, at least until the next regularly scheduled post. I’m sure as hell not stopping here. Twenty years is just another chapter in the larger story. There’s still a lot left to this story, even if no one knows how it will end, including the author.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)24 Comments