Author: Hannah (BitterSweet)

Author of My Sweet Vegan, Vegan Desserts, Vegan a la Mode, and Easy as Vegan Pie.

De Nada; You’re Welcome

“You’re welcome” is typically heard as a response, reflexive and impersonal, to any verbal show of gratitude. De Nada Cantina implies a fuller understanding: you are welcome.

Crispy Mushroom Picadillo Taco

Putting hospitality first, De Nada believes that when you put people first, the rest will follow. Judging by the nearly unanimous raves for their original downtown Austin location, they’ve got that equation right. As founder Stephen Shallcross explains it, “Hospitality is about taking care of people. We believe in hospitality. It doesn’t mean treating anyone, be they vegans, or gluten-free, or wheelchair users, as special. Everyone should be taken care of equally. It’s in our DNA to take care people, in the dignity of all people.”

Stephen Shallcross, owner of 2 Dine 4 Hospitality Group, which includes De Nada Cantina, Sawyer & Co., SWOOP House, Lil’ Easy Cajun Food & Bar, and 2 Dine 4 Fine Catering

Expanding into a larger kitchen in their newly opened South 1st location, the already accommodating menu has expanded accordingly. Myriad meatless options showcase the inherent richness of whole foods, seasoned with the same care and attention given to prime cuts. The mushroom picadillo in particular, developed through multiple trials and many revisions, is a shining example of that commitment. Layers of spices blended so harmoniously that it’s impossible to tease them apart are infused into every molecule of the humble fungus, swaddled in soft, handmade blue corn tortillas, or crispy hard shells if you’d prefer a nostalgic American flourish.

Vegan Enchiladas

Vegetarian enchiladas aren’t victims of subtraction after being converted to veganism. Creamy green pipián sauce blankets the bundle lavishly, as if those pumpkin seeds are channeling the very spirit of sour cream. Even the refritos negros, otherwise unremarkable black beans, dazzle with depth that has an uncanny cheesy undertone. It’s the kind of thing that anyone could enjoy, without even realizing they’ve eaten a vegan meal.

Camote Taco

What began as trying to accommodate friends and family turned into a genuine passion for making plant-based foods. John Mackey, co-founder of Whole Foods Market, was an early supporter and client, who really started the wheels turning. His signature can be seen all over the catering menus which are additionally low-sodium and almost entirely oil-free.

Frozen Margarita

Don’t worry, if you’re just here for the comfort food, no one is about to give you a lecture about healthy living here. That piece of the puzzle is incidental to simply starting with quality ingredients and not messing them up. There’s still plenty of spirit behind the bar when you want to let loose. Crowned the best margarita by The Austin Chronicle now three years running, frozen or on the rocks, large or slightly less large, these drinks do not mess around. The way that happy hour deals bring crowds in droves is self-explanatory.

Verduras Taco

In 2026, accommodation is out; inclusion is in. Everyone is truly welcome here.

De Nada Cantina

1302 S 1st St.
Austin, TX 78704

Hannah (BitterSweet)3 Comments

Cream Cheese of the Crop

Tofutti walked so that plant-based dairy as we know it could run. Heralding in a new era of soy alternatives before the word “tofu” even registered with American eaters, visionary David Mintz began his frozen dessert company back in 1981. Catering to the kosher community, Mintz was in the right place at the right time to ride the wave of veganism as awareness and interest skyrocketed.

Non-dairy ice cream pints begat ice cream sandwiches, the legendary Tofutti Cuties that captivated me from the earliest days of my own vegan ventures. Though the number of flavors have dwindled and few stores west of New York carry them anymore, Cuties are still alive and well today. Tofutti is therefore responsible for both the second and third product reviews posted on BitterSweet, the latter of which turned out to be their enduring legacy, beyond dessert: cream cheese.

A Lasting Legacy

Tofutti Better Than Cream Cheese has undergone a number of revisions since its introduction in the early 90s. At one point, a separate Non-Hydrogenated version was developed and sold alongside the original, eventually overtaking its predecessor as overall nutrition faced greater scrutiny. More recent innovations include whipped and flavored cream cheeses, though I’ve only seen these available for purchase online. The Plain Better Than Cream Cheese still stands tall in mainstream grocery stores across the country. Where other brands fail and vegan options flag, I can always count on finding a tub of the classic.

Review Revival, Twenty Years Later

Revisiting my initial review from twenty years ago, I couldn’t help but wonder if Tofutti cream cheese still measured up. Right out of the gate, differences started stacking up. It appears that the spread has gained a bit more fat, as we all tend to do as we age, to the tune of an additional 30 calories per serving. Unbothered by the addition, which merely makes it comparable to conventional dairy-based options, I plunged in, bread at the ready.

Unsavory Impact

Immediately, I’m hit with a discordant note, an off-flavor that doesn’t quite fit with the rest. No, this is not cream cheese, it reasserts with every bite, slowly stepping back as your taste buds adjust. For lack of a better description, it strikes me as brown, perhaps subtly beany and nutty, without the wholesome, organic connotations that should bring. There’s no tanginess to speak of, not even a hint of gentle sourness or acidity, which I would have expected from the genuine article. It’s also strikingly sweet; much sweeter than I remember.

Served straight-up, unadorned, it’s not quite pulling its weight as a savory schmear worthy of a proper Jewish delicatessen. Texturally, however, this spread is unassailable. Luscious, silky smooth, slightly slippery, and thick enough to pile on high, the mouthfeel alone makes it worth the price of entry.

Still Sweet On This Spread

Am I wrong for wanting more from this old-school brand, which ultimately prides itself in staying true to its roots? In fact, Tofutti was always my go-to recommendation, not for noshing straight, but for baking. Better Than Cream Cheese was at the heart of my award-winning cheesecake, every decadent swirl of cream cheese frosting, countless truffles, ice cream bases, and even cookies. That inherent sweetness makes it a seamless match for every dessert you can think of. Time and again, I’ll fill my cart with baking staples, Tofutti cream cheese riding in front.

Mixed Results

Ultimately, no, it’s not the same as it once was, though that’s not to say it should be left in the past. We are not the same as we were either, twenty years ago. It pains me to admit that it’s not my favorite across the board, despite all the good it’s done over the years. In desserts and sweet treats, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend the brand with genuine conviction. But, viewed holistically as a savory spread to top bagels, compared to the competition, Tofutti is no longer making a schmear that’s Better Than Cream Cheese.

Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments

Buffeted By The Buffet

Is there anything more American than a buffet? Endless opportunities, unlimited indulgences, and unrestrained gluttony at its finest. Should a metal chaffing dish ever grow empty, a new one will appear, bountiful and beguiling, ready for the next round. It’s an odd phenomenon that I find impossibly fascinating, representing a Venn diagram that overlaps between bliss and revulsion.

Do I really need another plate of fried miscellany, just because it’s there? How many more servings before I’ve gotten my money’s worth? How long has that unrefrigerated potato salad really been sitting out? Why do most buffets have abysmal health scores? Some things are best not thought about.

Despite all the ostentatious trappings of the modern American buffet, we can’t lay claim to its invention. The US is still a nascent country compared to the most of the world, all of which had a huge head start on culinary development. Though its reliably a realm for the wealthy to showcase their largess, it hasn’t always been about quantity over quality.

Scandinavians can reasonably take credit for the original concept dating back to the 16th century. Brännvinsbord were served as a pre-meal snack of cold items like cheeses, bread, and other small tapas-like dishes, set out for guests to help themselves while mixing and mingling. By the time the early 18th century rolled around, these appetizers were expanded into smörgåsbords, encompassing a full meal and including hot dishes as well. However, the term “buffet” itself originates from the French, in reference to the piece of furniture where food was displayed.

Its original European elegance has worn thin after many years overseas, evidenced by the proliferation of steam table mystery meats and troughs of limp, oily fries. I know that a buffet will never be a good idea, especially as a vegan who can only safely consume about 1/10th of the questionable wares on display, and yet, I’m drawn inexorably to them, like a moth to the flame. The culture of buffets is a whole separate dogma, drawing a different set of social norms and expectations, like a crazy microcosm of the worst of human behavior. The people watching is top-tier; worth the price of admission alone.

The food is bad, yes, but there’s so much of it, which makes it good! Prices are steeper than an a composed entree, but you get to eat far more than you’d comfortably like to, so it’s a bargain! I get trapped down these spiraling, conflicting thought patterns, fully aware and yet fully willing to take the plunge. Do I want to go to the buffet? Yes, of course. Do I want to eat at the buffet? No, please god, anything but that.

Though the buffet has faced steep criticism and near extinction during the COVID-19 pandemic, it continues on, regaining lost ground particularly in hotels, casinos, and similar tourist traps. It’s part of the American experience now, no matter how abjectly terrible that may be. Consider it entertainment more than a meal, and you may have a better experience.

Hannah (BitterSweet)3 Comments

Pour Choices

Though I may technically be an 80’s baby, I just barely made the cut, and by all accounts, I missed the best parts. I was still in diapers when big hair and even bigger shoulder pads were already going out of style; my memories begin not with neon excess or synth-soaked rebellion, but with their faded echoes. Through cultural osmosis, I gradually inherited the decade like a rumor, absorbing it secondhand through Reading Rainbow reruns and “oldies” radio stations. What I never got was a taste of the food, and more specifically, the school cafeteria fare.

Pourable Pizza, now the stuff of legends, never made it to my lunch tray. Served for a fleeting moment in time, the most cited recipe dates back to 1988. Though it sounds like genuine slop, the worst part is the name, since it’s simply composed of a liquid, no-knead dough that can be quickly and easily distributed between sheet pans and baked en masse. Topped with tomato sauce and copious amounts of cheese, the crust offered little resistance, both to tiny teeth and picky eaters. Was it the healthiest thing? No, but did we care in that era? Not really. You could claim it contained grains, vegetables, and dairy, which was good enough for the USDA.

Now, almost 40 years after that legacy was established and driven by anemoia, I’m inexorably drawn to such a foreign yet familiar concept. Surely, Pourable Pizza could never exist like this again, not in its original form, and still it lives on in the minds of many. Spurred on by cravings, boredom, and frugality, I decided to revise the concept for my fellow adult children.

My rendition is fiercely loyal to the title, adding a layer of pourable vegan cheese on top to seal the deal. Shredded mozzarella? Nah, we can do one better, leveraging the inherent richness of tahini and nutritional yeast to whip up a liquid topping for our liquid foundation. Now that I’m writing that out loud, is this the liquid lunch of our generation?

Whichever generation finds this and takes it in as their own, may it feed their memories with equal measures of comfort and curiosity. May it taste like recess you didn’t quite have, a past you only half remember, and a future that feels less rigid than the rules we grew up with. This isn’t an attempt to recreate history so much as to make peace with it, to ladle something soft and sustaining into the gaps where experience should have been. Even when the decade is borrowed, the memories aren’t quite your own, and the pizza is poured, the comfort is real, and that’s enough.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)10 Comments