Author: Hannah (BitterSweet)

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

Controversial Cabbage

Latkes are sacred. I don’t mean that in a biblical sense, but maybe that does apply in this case, too. Latkes are the real meaning of Hanukkah, the nexus of the holiday that connect the miracle of the oil with community, comfort, and abundance. Potatoes themselves take a place of honor at the table, forever reliable for their culinary prowess. That’s why I’ve been steeling myself for this blog post; I know I’m about to upset a lot of people. I made latkes with cabbage instead of potatoes.

Please, put your pitchforks away! Don’t rescind my invitation to the party yet! By no means am I suggesting that cabbage latkes are better than the beloved potato latkes. As a food writer, I know my job is to sell you on my latest creation, convincing you that it’s unbeatable, it’s life-changing, it’s the thing you never knew you needed.

Maybe the last is true, because I’ve never heard anyone take a plate of golden, immaculately crisp potato latkes and say, “You know what these need? 100% more cabbage.”

Honestly, I don’t know where the idea came from, other than the fact that I like cabbage and happened to have it around. I started making cabbage latkes well into late summer, biding my time and practicing my pitch for this day. I’ve come to find that they somewhat resemble Latvian kāpostu kotletes, which Google invariably translates as “cabbage cutlets.” If there could possibly be a more disappointing way to set expectations for this dish, it would be to call them cabbage cutlets. So, cabbage latkes it is.

Golden-crisp on the edges, tender in the center, this more vegetal reimagining of the classic potato pancake looks suspiciously similar to the original inspiration. Shredded green cabbage, kissed with just enough salt to coax out its sweet, earthy essence, forms the backbone of this comforting fritter. Not heavy or greasy, a lacy latticework of browned fringes gives way to a savory, onion-scented interior.

Hopefully this doesn’t turn into a scandal akin to the great Pea Guacamole Controversy that rocked the culinary world a few years back. If it would make you more comfortable, go ahead and call them cabbage fritters. No one is coming to take away your potatoes. I’m only suggesting you might enjoy making space for cabbage, too.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)11 Comments

In Fitfits and Starts

Cold salad might sound like a hard sell as we round the corner to the official beginning of winter, but rest assured that timatim fitfit is no average salad. Eschewing limp greens in favor of a hearty injera base, the tangled ribbons wrap around juicy tomatoes that sing of summer, yet simultaneously manage to hold a timeless tune. For anyone slipping into a stupor after days of heavy, undifferentiated holiday fare, this is just the antidote that will wake your palate back up.

What is Timatim Fitfit?

Not to be confused with the hot, saucy counterpart that is firfir, timatim fitfit is a chilled, uncooked version of the same overarching concept, built around extra or leftover (if there is such a thing) injera, fresh produce, and bold spices. I basically have Red Fox Spices on speed dial at this point, if there was such a thing for repeatedly ordering their 100% teff injera, in both ivory and brown. It’s the only source I’ve found for reliable, high-quality injera on demand, so it’s incredibly fortunate that it also happens to be an inspiring company that’s committed to empowering women, farmers, and sustainable practices, just as much as it is to creating superlative Ethiopian food.

Though often served as part of a larger spread, alongside stews and sautéed greens, timatim fitfit can easily stand as a light midday meal on its own. The combination of acidic dressing and slightly softened injera creates a texture that’s somewhere between panzanella and bread ceviche, if you can imagine such a thing. Those airy pockets in the injera act like tiny capillaries, drawing in the lime and berbere to saturate every bite with flavor.

What gives the dish its unmistakable zing is the interplay between berbere, lime, and tomatoes. Berbere has a warm, fragrant, and nuanced spice, layered with chilies, fenugreek, cardamom, ginger, and a half-dozen other subtle aromatics. Lime cuts through that heat, brightening the whole mixture and preventing the injera from going slack. It’s a short ingredient list on paper, but the combination has complexity that far exceeds such a simple recipe.

Fit to be Mixed

Like all Ethiopian dishes, there’s no single “authentic” recipe. In fact, there are many equally valid variations, often one blending into the definition of the next, making it difficult to pin down.

  • The easiest and most casual, common way to serve it is with injera torn into bits and all mixed together. This method is ideal for everyday eating, for snacking straight from the fridge, or for those glorious moments when leftover injera demands a second life.
  • If you’re looking to impress, roll the injera before slicing and serve the spirals at the base, topped with the seasoned vegetable mixture. The presentation transforms it from rustic to refined with almost no extra effort.

  • Remove the “fitfit,” and “timatim” is just the vegetables; great as a side or garnish, but not nearly as compelling as the full complement, if you ask me.

The one non-negotiable element is time. Let the mixture rest, because even ten minutes makes a world of difference. The spices need time to bloom and mingle, as the tomatoes release their juices and the seasoning permeates the injera.

Enjoying Injera

Is there any ingredient quite so versatile as injera, which can act as the vessel, entree, and serving utensil for the same dish? Timatim fitfit can demonstrate the full range of this inimitable Ethiopian flatbread without even trying. When you’re flush from a fresh restock, you can use a flat sheet of injera as the plate, and still another torn into pieces to scoop up your salad in hearty handfuls.

When served as part of a communal platter, timatim fitfit becomes the essential bright note that ties the whole meal together. It cuts through buttery niter kibbeh, balances earthy lentils, and offers a cooling reprieve between fiery mouthfuls of misir wat or shiro. It’s the palate cleanser, or perhaps an edible intermission.

For all its simplicity, timatim fitfit has a way of recalibrating your senses. It proves that winter meals can still be fresh and vibrant, that comfort food doesn’t need to be decadent, and that even leftover injera can become something transcendent with a little lime and spice.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments

Bloody Good Soup

One could argue, without any difficulty, that a classically mixed Bloody Mary is a soup. Sure, the notable addition of vodka may give pause, but who said that soups were defined by their sobriety? Soup is merely defined as a “liquid food,” which also means that perhaps smoothies and milkshakes could be included in the category. A Bloody Mary, though, already has the basic vegetal building blocks of a cozy tomato soup, lightened and lengthened with chilled spirits, like a tipsy gazpacho served in a glass. Honestly, that sounds pretty good, too.

But I digress. We’re talking about the Bloody Mary here; robust and highly seasoned, often spiked with Worcestershire, Tabasco, and plenty of black pepper, at least. It wouldn’t take much at all to make that into a meal. Hell, you could just heat up the foundational mix and call it a day, but we can do better. Taking a page from classic tomato soup, it’s not a radical departure from tradition, which is a large part of its charm. Just layer in some caramelized onions, cook up the celery instead of saving it for a garnish, and add a bit more vegan bacon for that all-important protein, and now it’s looking like a proper bowl of soup.

We can’t leave garnishes out of the picture, though. They’re almost more essential to the Bloody Mary than the vodka itself. On that note, I chose to add my vodka towards the end, rather than let it cook out, because it should live up to the name, right? You could add it earlier on in the cooking process, along with the vegetable stock, to make this more family friendly, if you absolutely had to.

Happy hour and dinnertime often overlap, so why not cut to the chase and make both count? If it’s too hard to get past the idea of Bloody Mary soup being different from the original cocktail, then just think of it like a surprisingly relaxing, mildly intoxicating tomato soup, and you won’t be disappointed.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)10 Comments

A Clear Case for Vodka

Pulling off the road at the sight of the water tower looming overhead, the Dripping Springs Vodka distillery appears suddenly, like an oasis in Texas Hill Country. Established in 2005, it’s hard to imagine a time before these award-winning spirits splashed across the country, and even harder to believe that they were only the second to obtain a legal distilling license in the entire Lone Star State. Moonshine not withstanding, vodka is what paved the way forward to our now highly spirited landscape.

You can walk straight in, as if it was any other bar, and order one of many classic cocktails, or something more contemporary and creative, like a raspberry mojito or a watermelon cooler. The staff behind the counter won’t give you a scripted sales pitch; they actually talk to you. They’ll tell you about their personal favorites, what’s new, how the lemon vodka gets its bright, zesty bite from real peels, not syrup. If you ask about the stills, they’ll probably suggest you take the tour. If you hadn’t already come for that express purpose, you should.

Behind the Stills

The tour, like the actual distillery itself, is small. You’ll see the copper stills up close, where you can smell the midwestern sweet corn mid-ferment and feel the heat still lingering in the air. Guides will talk you through the history of the brand and the process of converting starches into drinkable alcohol, with plenty of samples along the way. Be sure to take notes if you hope to remember what you’ve learned from the experience, because they’re not stingy with their tasters.

“All vodka tastes the same.”
“Vodka has no flavor.”
“Only people who don’t like alcohol like vodka.”

Statements like these, and worse, have been bandied about by misinformed people since the inception of pot stills. I used to be one of them. Loudly, proudly declaring that I knew better than centuries of distillers and drinkers alike, I was unafraid of being so distinctly wrong. I’ve come to realize that my half-baked opinion was formed on a very limited sample of bottom shelf bottles that could have been easily swapped for household antiseptics without anyone noticing. Perhaps this is shocking, but the fact is, for vodka and every single other thing on this planet, quality changes everything.

Dripping Springs Vodka is quality. An easy way to judge, without ever putting a glass to your lips, is to look at the unique factors that define every bottle:

Small Batches in Copper Pot Stills

Working in 50‑gallon batches, Dripping Springs Vodka may be a huge national brand, but they still treat the business like an artisan upstart. Each patented, handcrafted copper pot still gets individual attention through its 13-hour cycle separating the heads and tails from the drinkable portion, known as the heart.

Distillation and Filtration

Often vodka brands will say “distilled multiple times,” but the exact number is less important than the approach. Just because a vodka is distilled 20 times doesn’t necessarily make it better than one that’s distilled only twice. Final clarification through activated charcoal is part of the signature flavor, too. The idea is to purify the elixir without stripping away its character.

Water Matters

As with New York pizza and San Francisco sourdough, the quality of the water makes a huge impact on the end results. After all that distillation, they finish with mineral‑rich artesian spring water from the Texas Hill Country. The water’s purity, minerality, the local terroir, is what really gives it such distinctive character.

Natural Flavoring, Minimal Intervention

Their flavored vodkas use real, natural ingredients (like fresh citrus zest and whole vanilla beans). Sugar is never added, despite the subtly sweet finish.

All About That Base

Vodka is known as a “neutral spirit,” so it’s hard to know what it began life as. Just about anything can turn into vodka, including wheat, rye, barley, corn, sorghum, rice, buckwheat, quinoa, potatoes, beets, sugarcane, molasses, honey, maple sap, apples, whey… We’ll be here all day if I can continue. Anything high in starch or sugar, mixed with yeast and water, is vodka fodder.

Anything can be added to it without affecting that designation, unless you venture into the territory of juniper. Add the smallest bit of juniper, and now it’s suddenly gin. As such, Dripping Springs Vodka also offers two types of gin; a more traditional take on London Dry, which is very juniper-forward, and a softer, more contemporary blend with hibiscus and cardamom.

More In Store

Behind the scenes, they’ve got their hands in a growing lineup of other spirits brands. Also in their vast portfolio, you’ll find:

Your best bet for stocking your own home bar is to visit the gift shop on your way out, where you’ll find limited runs of specialties not found anywhere else. The price is right, especially when you buy two bottles or more, and get a tasting flight for free.

Whether you came for the vodka, stayed for the whiskey, or just followed the water tower off the highway in search of a rest stop, you’ll find more than you expected, and probably leave wondering why you ever settled for anything less.

Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments