Happy Snacking, Don’t Die!

Food is all around us, if we’re patient and perceptive enough to look. For me, it’s something of a personal mantra. My passion for foraging took root in childhood, when I first discovered wild raspberries along the side of the road with my dad. In San Francisco, it truly blossomed, where Golden Gate Park became a veritable salad buffet, helping augment my meager college student’s budget.

Foraging, once a necessity for survival, is now an endangered skill. Whether it’s a lack of awareness or a lack of access, fewer people than ever are feeding themselves with the incredible abundance found right in our backyards. Happy Snacking, Don’t Die! by Alexis Nikole Nelson, better known as @blackforager to the online world, is a cookbook and a guidebook all in one, set on introducing the open-minded to the wonders of wild edibles.

Alexis is the ideal teacher for her inviting, disarmingly gentle, and encouraging approach, while taking the laws of the land seriously. As one could surmise from the title, she doesn’t romanticize foraging or gloss over its inherent dangers. Instead, she repeatedly emphasizes proper identification, ethical harvesting, and knowing when to simply leave a plant alone. That grounding makes the book feel trustworthy, even as its playful tone keeps things light.

Photo by JB Douglas

What elevates Happy Snacking, Don’t Die! beyond a field guide with recipes is Alexis herself. Her curiosity is infectious, her humor lands naturally, and her passion for reconnecting people with the landscape around them shines through on every page. The educational sections are approachable without talking down to the reader, making even unfamiliar botanical concepts feel accessible.

The recipes are similarly welcoming. Rather than treating wild ingredients as exotic novelties, Alexis incorporates them into dishes that feel both achievable and genuinely worth making. Some recipes inevitably depend on access to specific plants that not every reader will encounter, but that’s less a flaw of the book than a reality of regional foraging. More importantly, they illustrate the culinary potential of ingredients that most of us have spent our lives overlooking.

Candied Violets

Edible flowers have always been a favorite find of mine, since store-bought blossoms pale in comparison, if not outright wilt and rot in their packages. Candied Violets (page 53) preserve the harvest in aquafaba and sugar, using the same time-honored techniques that pastry chefs have practiced for centuries. Delicate and fragile as butterfly wings, they take on a crystalline sheen as they dry. Made for adorning equally precious sweet treats, even the broken petals can serve as beautiful natural sprinkles.

Lambsquarters & Artichoke Dip

Lambsquarters are also known as “wild spinach,” so it makes sense that they can seamlessly slip into the role of the conventional supermarket staple. Lambsquarters & Artichoke Dip (page 139), they blend right into a crowd-pleasing appetizer that no one would ever suspect started with a common backyard weed. Carried by the creamy, cheesy base, I can see any type of green vegetable working here, depending on what you can find in season.

Oyster Mushroom Chowda

Though I personally prefer a thick chowder, full of vegetables and herbs, the more brothy Oyster Mushroom Chowda (page 242) is no less comforting, especially on a chilly day. My mushrooms weren’t exactly foraged, but at least they were homegrown, thanks to a neighbor whose enthusiasm for cultivating oyster mushrooms has benefited my kitchen as well. Kombu and dulse lend a distinctly oceanic flavor, evocative of the mollusks that inspired the stew. It’s a restrained combination of ingredients that simply works, allowing the mushrooms’ natural umami to shine while scratching the same itch as a classic seafood chowder.

Juniper-Cured Carrot Lox

I’ve made a lot of lox in my lifetime; carrot, beet, tomato, konjac, eggplant. Juniper-Cured Carrot Lox (page 257) adds a new dimension to the typical formula, infusing the familiar smoky, salty profile with bright, piney, resinous notes. Peeled into long ribbons, the carrots soften almost instantly as the flax oil and curing mixture infuse through each strand. Draping easily over a bagel with cream cheese in a silky garland, additional garnishes are nice, but unnecessary when there’s already so much flavor packed into each bite.

Black Walnut Ice Cream

I may be a cheat in this case, but I’m not a liar. I’ll tell you right up front that I foraged for nothing to make the Maple Black Walnut Ice Cream (page 196). For shame, I did purchase the walnuts and maple syrup, and used cornstarch instead of Acorn Starch (page 176), too. What’s remarkable here is how many components of this recipe could be made from scratch if you were inclined to take things further. Even the vanilla extract has an optional upgrade path, with homemade Nocino (page 199) standing in for a deeper, walnut-inflected alternative. More sweet than nutty, I wish there was more emphasis placed on the nuts, though the high sugar content does keep the texture perfectly soft and scoopable straight from the freezer.

We spend so much of our lives filtering out the plants around us that they become little more than green background noise. Through equal parts natural history, personal storytelling, and practical instruction, Happy Snacking, Don’t Die! teaches readers to see again. Even if you’re never lucky enough to harvest morels from your local forest, you’ll likely come away looking at what does grow in your neighborhood with newfound appreciation.

Hannah (BitterSweet)2 Comments

Wordless Wednesday: A Spoonful of Sugar

Zucchini Kill Bakery – Queen Cake Doughnut
Zucchini Kill Bakery – Rebel Swrrrl Swiss Rolls
Mission Burger Co. – Soft Serve
Unicorniverse – Ube Brownie
Unicorniverse – Strawberry Chocolate, Salted Caramel, and White Chocolate Raspberry Macarons
Unicorniverse – Speculoos Blondie
Unicorniverse – Cookies and Cream Croissant, Chocolate Pecan Tart

The One Pho – Three Color Dessert (Chè Ba Màu)
MilkMade ATX – White Chocolate Strawberry Fudge Ripple
Insomnia Cookies – Vegan Chocolate Chunk and Vegan Birthday Cake Cookies
Community Kitchen + Taproom – Mini Chocolate Turtle Cheesecake

Hannah (BitterSweet)5 Comments

Honey for the Beans

“Sweet” is one of the last ways most people would think of describing a plain legume, and yet that’s exactly how ewa oloyin got their name. Otherwise known as honey beans, these humble cowpeas are a beloved Nigerian staple, indispensable to the national cuisine. Reasonably, the name comes from the Yoruba language, where ewa means “beans” and oloyin means “honey.”

Don’t let their modest appearance fool you. Beneath those unassuming beige skins lies some of the creamiest, most versatile legumes you’ll ever cook with, ready to earn a permanent place in your pantry.

What Are Ewa Oloyin? Meet Nigeria’s Beloved Honey Beans

As you might have guessed from their short, ovoid shape and signature “eye,” ewa oloyin are closely related to black-eyed peas, but they’re a distinct variety of cowpea (Vigna unguiculata). They’ve been cultivated throughout West Africa for centuries, thriving in hot, dry climates where other crops struggle. It’s the kind of tenacious plant you can count on when times are tough, asking for little in return while even improving the soil by fixing nitrogen as it grows.

Sweet Beans: What Do Ewa Oloyin Taste Like?

As one might expect from a nickname like honey beans, these legumes have a natural sweetness that’s more pronounced than you might expect based on looks alone. Comparable to roasted sweet corn or toasted chestnuts, they’d give adzuki beans a run for their money, should their paths ever cross. Mellow, mild, and perfect for winning over picky eaters, a properly cooked pot of ewa oloyin can make a bean believer out of anyone.

As they cook, their starches convert to sugar, creating a viscous, amber potlikker that’s genuinely honey-like. The beans become remarkably creamy, striking that sweet spot between buttery and hearty. They can melt into a velvety stew or mash effortlessly into dips and fritters. Every spoonful feels rich and luxurious, even when made with minimal ingredients.

Nutrition For Days

Like most legumes, honey beans are nutritional overachievers hiding in plain sight. They’re naturally rich in plant-based protein and dietary fiber, making meals more satisfying while providing slow-burning energy that sticks with you long after you’ve left the table.

They also deliver an impressive lineup of vitamins and minerals, including folate, iron, magnesium, potassium, and phosphorus, all while remaining naturally low in fat, cholesterol-free, and gluten-free. Pair them with rice or another grain, and together they provide a complementary amino acid profile that’s greater than the sum of its parts.

How to Cook Honey Beans, Quick and Creamy Every Time

Ewa oloyin have thinner skins than most cowpeas, so soaking isn’t strictly necessary. What you can’t skip is sorting them first. Always pick through your dried beans to check for stones before getting started.

  • On the stove, cover them with fresh water by about 2 inches. Bring to a boil before reducing the heat to a gentle simmer. Depending on the age of the beans, they’ll be ready in about 40 – 60 minutes. Resist the urge to add salt too early; seasoning toward the end of cooking helps ensure the skins stay tender.
  • In a a pressure cooker, cook the beans on high pressure for about 20 – 30 minutes, then let the pressure release naturally for the creamiest results.

One of the best parts of cooking honey beans is the broth they leave behind. As they simmer, the cooking liquid thickens into a glossy, amber potlikker with a subtle sweetness all its own. Don’t you dare pour it down the drain! It can be stirred back into the beans for extra richness, used to thicken soups and stews, or simply spooned over rice to soak into every grain.

Whether you cook them until they’re just tender or let them soften into a velvety mash, ewa oloyin are remarkably forgiving. In fact, many of their most beloved recipes celebrate beans that are cooked well past al dente, embracing their creamy texture rather than fighting it.

Akara (African Bean Fritters)

Perfect Pairings

Simple stews are where you’re most likely to find ewa oloyin in Africa. Ranging from mild to fiery, brothy to thick enough to eat with a fork, these hearty bean dishes are everyday comfort food, stretching humble ingredients into meals that are deeply satisfying and remarkably nourishing. The most popular pairings include:

Ewa Riro (Nigerian Bean Porridge)

Time-Honored Dishes and Contemporary Ideas

Honey beans are wonderfully versatile, making themselves at home in both traditional Nigerian cooking and modern plant-based kitchens.

They’re best known for starring in dishes like ewa agoyin, where impossibly tender beans are served beneath a deeply savory, smoky pepper sauce, or ewa porridge, a one-pot meal simmered with tomatoes, onions, peppers, and warming spices. Ground into a smooth batter, they become moin moin, a savoy steamed bean pudding, or akara, irresistibly crisp fritters with fluffy, creamy centers.

Beyond those classics, these beans are happy to improvise. Swap them in anywhere you’d normally use black-eyed peas; fold them into soups and stews, scatter them over salads, blend them into dips, or mash them into burgers and patties. Their mild flavor plays well with everything from fiery chiles to fragrant herbs, making them the kind of pantry staple you’ll find yourself reaching for again and again.

Akara (African Bean Fritters)

Sweet Beans, Sweet Dreams

In Nigeria, ewa oloyin have become so deeply woven into everyday life that you’d be hard-pressed to find a household without them. More than merely filling a bowl, these beans have completely won me over. Creamier than black-eyed peas, sweeter than adzuki, and so naturally delicious, they’ve made me reconsider my usual legume rotation entirely. Putting “honey” in the name isn’t just poetic, it’s a promise they actually keep.

Continue reading “Honey for the Beans” →

Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments

Forget The Recipe

As a person who’s passionate about cooking, one of the hardest truths to accept is that not every recipe will be a clear winner. Everyone has their share of abject failures, big and small, that will obviously never be held up to the harsh, probing light of social media. If your souffle blows up in the oven, coating every surface like a layer of fresh paint, it may be funny and appropriately humbling to share, but I doubt you’d endorse that formula as if that was the desired result.

Why, then, is it so difficult to discard the merely subpar? You wouldn’t want to share the disappointment with anyone you care about, or who cares about you. Still, there’s always that nagging temptation to salvage it, to convince yourself it’s “good enough,” or that with enough caveats and qualifiers, someone else might appreciate it more than you did. Maybe it’s the sunk cost of all that time, effort, and expensive ingredients. Even though, at the end of the day, it’s just food, it still feels like a loss.

In a more concrete way, I’m talking about this spinach pesto fettuccine, with handmade pasta, no less, made and photographed over five years ago and quickly buried in the archives. I know I made it. I know I liked it well enough. Beyond that? I couldn’t tell you what made it different from any other pesto pasta I’ve thrown together over the years. I don’t have a recipe because I either lost it or never bothered to write it down in the first place. That alone says volumes. The photos aren’t much help, either. They’re perfectly serviceable, but they don’t make a compelling case for revisiting the dish. Looking back through them now, I can’t help but wonder what I thought I was trying to preserve.

Twenty years into blogging, I’m still learning to let go. Not every meal has to become a recipe, just as not every recipe has to become a favorite. Sometimes cooking is simply an excuse to spend an afternoon making pasta by hand, to use up a bunch of spinach before it wilts, or to satisfy a craving as random and urgent as the inspiration to do something about it. Some meals are meant only for the moment they’re served.

Hannah (BitterSweet)5 Comments

Shoot for the Moon

Mooncakes have long been an enigma to me. Ornate little pastries that gleam as if lit from within, their attraction is undeniable and magnetic, even for someone who didn’t grow up celebrating the Mid-Autumn Festival. Heavy with meaning and dense fillings alike, they’re the centerpiece of the whole event, one of the most important holidays celebrated throughout China and in many other East and Southeast Asian communities.

Traditionalism Meets Veganism

As a vegan, though, they seemed destined to remain behind glass. The biggest barrier to entry is that most traditional mooncakes aren’t even vegetarian. Depending on the style, the pastry may be made with lard or butter, and the most iconic varieties conceal salted egg yolks at their center, luminous as miniature harvest moons. For years, that meant I was relegated to admiring them from afar rather than partaking. Happily, compassionate bakers have made it possible to buy plant-based mooncakes direct, or create your own from scratch.

The Many Phases of a Mooncake

The lack of firsthand experience only deepened my curiosity. By the time I finally got a taste, crafted by a friend talented, patient, and generous to share such a gift, I was beside myself with wonder. Far from a single, codified pastry, mooncakes are more like an entire family of desserts, each region putting its own stamp on centuries of tradition.

  • Cantonese mooncakes are the style most familiar outside of Asia, and likely the image that springs to mind when most people hear the word. Their glossy, amber-brown crust is remarkably thin, yielding to dense, velvety fillings like lotus seed paste, red beans, black sesame, or mixed nuts.
  • Suzhou mooncakes are defined by dozens of delicate, flaky layers that shatter with each bite. Sweet and savory versions coexist happily here, with fillings ranging from adzuki bean paste to spiced pork, making them feel more like a laminated pastry.
  • Teochew mooncakes are instantly recognizable by their mesmerizing spiral crusts, created by folding alternating layers of dough until they resemble edible pinwheels. Slice one in half and the intricate pattern is almost as captivating as the filling, which often features yams, mung beans, or black sesame.
  • Beijing mooncakes are a little more rustic, with a thicker, drier pastry surrounding comparatively modest fillings. Less sugary than their southern counterparts, they’re often flavored with nuts, dried fruits, or sesame seeds.
  • Then there are snow skin mooncakes, the rebels of the bunch. Introduced in Hong Kong in the late twentieth century, they’re never baked at all. Instead, a soft, chewy shell made from glutinous rice flour encases chilled fillings, much like mochi, opening the door to flavors like mango, matcha, pandan, taro, durian, chocolate, and coffee; some are even stuffed with ice cream.

That’s only scratching the surface. Nearly every region, city, and individual bakery has its own interpretation, with family recipes passed down alongside the molds that imprint each pastry’s intricate designs. Asking someone to define the mooncake is a little like asking an American to define the pie. You’ll get a clear answer, but the answer will change depending on who you ask.

A Slice of Life

What I love most about mooncakes, aside from their flavor, is that they were never meant to be eaten alone. Mooncakes were designed to be a communal experience from the beginning. Their richness would be overwhelming for a single person, turning what should be a celebration into an exercise in excess. Instead, they’re always shared, cut into small wedges and passed around the table alongside cups of tea, as families and friends linger beneath the harvest moon. After centuries of evolving recipes, regional styles, and artistic flourishes, that’s the tradition that has endured. The pastry itself may change, but it’s that thread connecting the past, present, and future that matters most.

Hannah (BitterSweet)2 Comments