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Inextricably linked to the sticky syrup in my mind, this is how I first remember eating cornbread, back in my elementary school years. It was on a field trip to a maple tree grove where we indulged in samples of freshly tapped and concentrated, still warm maple syrup, stirred into milk and drizzled over squares of tender cornbread. Ever since that fateful day, there’s been no match to that simple serving suggestion.

Start by adding a bold punch of heat in the form of peppery Dijon mustard. A riff on classic honey mustard, this sweet and spicy sensation isn’t just blended in, but swirled in thick, undulating ribbons, marbled throughout the classic golden loaf. Straddling the line between cake and bread, it has just the right pepper bite to accentuate, not overpower, that delicate balance.

Though an unconventional pairing on paper, it makes perfect sense when you take a bite. Give it a shot; I promise you won’t regret the gamble.

A riff on classic honey mustard, this sweet and spicy sensation isn’t just blended in, but swirled in thick, undulating ribbons, marbled throughout the classic golden loaf. Straddling the line between cake and bread, it has just the right pepper bite to accentuate, not overpower, that delicate balance.
Please note that some of the links above are affiliate links, and at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you decide to make a purchase after clicking through the link. I have experience with all of these companies and I recommend them because they are helpful and useful, not because of the small commissions I make if you decide to buy something through my links.
All nutritional information presented within this site are intended for informational purposes only. I am not a certified nutritionist and any nutritional information on BitterSweetBlog.com should only be used as a general guideline. This information is provided as a courtesy and there is no guarantee that the information will be completely accurate. Even though I try to provide accurate nutritional information to the best of my ability, these figures should still be considered estimations.
For all their creative potential, edible presents are criminally undervalued, often viewed as gifts of last resort. Can’t figure out a darned thing your difficult, curmudgeonly Uncle Eddie would enjoy? Well, everyone eats food, at least. Oh, but what about that co-worker you greet every morning but forgot to include on your list? There must be something in the pantry you could cobble together and stick a bow on.

Written off as a last-minute option, haphazardly slapped together in a moment of charitable desperation, chocolate bark especially enjoys particular prominence around this time of the year. Little more than cacao slabs with a bit of extra texture, the concept nonetheless remains wildly popular despite- or perhaps in part because of- this very unpretentious simplicity. Chocolate is never a hard sell to begin with, so when you add in a handful of nuts or crushed candy canes, such effortless appeal is universal among givers and receivers alike. However, that’s just the beginning of this spicy story. Given a little bit more deliberate intention, what if I told you we could make bark even better?

Despite its comparatively blanched pallor, this particular festive candy innovation could make the finest single origin dark bar melt. Gingerbread aroma beyond your wildest dreams springs out of the woodwork, going out on a limb to kick this festive palate of spices up another notch. Chewy nuggets of candied ginger and the crisp, fresh crunch of roasted almonds lend textural dimension that goes against the traditional grain, eschewing the candy-coated peppermints of years past to complement a more balanced sweetness.

In this modern re-imagination of the classic confection, refined sugars need not apply, believe it or not. A modest measure of stevia is enough to contrast with those warming spices without risking dessert overdose during the most tempting time of year. I used Steviva Blend since it’s about twice as sweet as white sugar, thus allowing me to use less and create a more satisfyingly snappy texture. Desserts should always be about the flavor first and sweetness second, making it a perfect mix for my needs.
Despite its comparatively blanched pallor, this particular festive candy innovation could make the finest single origin dark bar melt. Gingerbread aroma beyond your wildest dreams springs out of the woodwork, going out on a limb to kick this festive palate of spices up another notch. Chewy nuggets of candied ginger and the crisp, fresh crunch of roasted almonds lend textural dimension that goes against the traditional grain, eschewing the candy-coated peppermints of years past to complement a more balanced sweetness.
Please note that some of the links above are affiliate links, and at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you decide to make a purchase after clicking through the link. I have experience with all of these companies and I recommend them because they are helpful and useful, not because of the small commissions I make if you decide to buy something through my links.
All nutritional information presented within this site are intended for informational purposes only. I am not a certified nutritionist and any nutritional information on BitterSweetBlog.com should only be used as a general guideline. This information is provided as a courtesy and there is no guarantee that the information will be completely accurate. Even though I try to provide accurate nutritional information to the best of my ability, these figures should still be considered estimations.
Good vanilla is more precious than most gemstones right now. Believe it or not, demand for this everyday extract is skyrocketing while supply of the genuine article is plummeting due to devastating cyclones in Madagascar, poor harvests, and labor shortages. Some unsavory companies are resorting to questionable shortcuts, using spent, ground vanilla bean pods to add those eye-catching black flecks to their products. Doing so allows them to list “vanilla beans” on the label, even if the actual flavor comes from artificial ingredients. It’s not just food products though; try going straight to the source, and you might be surprised to find that even basic baking extracts are far from whole blends.

For something as important as holiday cookies, quality counts more than ever. Sugar cookies especially rely on full-bodied, robust vanilla flavor. An elusive, nuanced taste that’s difficult to capture in baked dough, the difference between a chemical cocktail and the genuine article is immediately evident with a single bite. Now is the time to splurge on the good stuff, revel in it, fully indulge yourself and your loved ones, and look back on your festive contributions with zero regrets.

Highlighting the very best vanilla I know, I’ve joined forces with Rodelle Kitchen to participate in their annual Holiday Cookie Campaign. Starting with an unconventional base of cocoa butter rather than a neutral oil imparts the ambrosial flavor like pure white chocolate, but in cookie form. Tender, chewy morsels punctuated by a barrage of crunchy macadamia nuts, no one would dare call this “plain vanilla.” Notes of marshmallow, custard, and even rich toffee all come from a generous dose of vanilla paste, unleashing a world of sweet flavors from one humble bean.

Regular old roll-out cookies will crumble in the face of these bold, buttery, unapologetically vanilla treats. Fancy frostings need not apply; these beauties already sparkle with natural plant-based sprinkles baked right in.
tarting with an unconventional base of cocoa butter rather than a neutral oil imparts the ambrosial flavor like pure white chocolate, but in cookie form. Tender, chewy morsels punctuated by a barrage of crunchy macadamia nuts, no one would dare call this “plain vanilla.” Notes of marshmallow, custard, and even rich toffee all come from a generous dose of vanilla paste, unleashing a world of sweet flavors from one humble bean.
Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to a week… If you can make them last that long!
Please note that some of the links above are affiliate links, and at no additional cost to you, I will earn a commission if you decide to make a purchase after clicking through the link. I have experience with all of these companies and I recommend them because they are helpful and useful, not because of the small commissions I make if you decide to buy something through my links.
All nutritional information presented within this site are intended for informational purposes only. I am not a certified nutritionist and any nutritional information on BitterSweetBlog.com should only be used as a general guideline. This information is provided as a courtesy and there is no guarantee that the information will be completely accurate. Even though I try to provide accurate nutritional information to the best of my ability, these figures should still be considered estimations.
Contrary to the frequently perpetuated oversimplification, latkes are not potato pancakes. They’re not hash browns nor patties, neither nuggets, tots, nor home fries. “Shredded potato clusters” don’t quite do them justice, but it’s hard to explain such a disarmingly simple dish. Sometimes it easier to describe what they aren’t, rather than what they are- Or ought to be. Strong opinions exist about what makes a proper latke, but in my family, that only means one thing: thin, crispy, silver dollar disks of starchy ribbons, all bound together with a scant handful of matzo meal and a whisper of yellow onion for seasoning. Deeply browned around the edges with a tender interior, some more so than others to appease a diverse crowd, they’re made by the pound and scaled up by tens; never trimmed back, never turned down. Rarely do leftovers survive the main meal, no matter how many buttery Yukon golds press through those sharp spinning grates.

For as long as I can remember, Hanukah has meant the smell of canola oil wafting through the house come midday, long before the menorah comes out or the table is set. My parents work in concert to sling the edible oily miracles well in advance of arriving guests to hide the laborious demands of each painstakingly shaped round. My mom stands guard inside the kitchen, cutting down armies of potatoes to form the raw fuel for this fire. Conveying them in heaping stock pots to my dad, he then dutifully, patiently shallow fries them outside on the grill. Through the bitterly cold winds, freezing rain, hail, snow, and thunderstorms, he faces the elements with steely resolve. There’s no Hanukkah celebration without the latkes, and they’re not about to cook themselves.

I’ll start by assembling my plate daintily, politely spearing two or three small clusters to save enough for the crowd, but after the first bite, proper manners quickly fall by the wayside. Seconds consist of a half sheet tray of the potato gems, shamelessly slathered with enough sour cream to sink a ship, if not lavished with a truly decadent crown of seaweed caviar. From age 3 to 30, if I don’t end the night with grease stains on my shirt and crispy potato shrapnel tangled in my hair, then it isn’t a real holiday dinner with my family.

Latkes aren’t the point here, despite their dominance on festive menus and historical authenticity- Or lack thereof. Latkes are about symbolism, taking on whatever meaning you assign them on this holy, yet entirely ordinary winter day. Latkes are whatever you want them to be, but the only way I’ll ever want them is back east in the house where I grew up, my parents lovingly slinging them from dawn to dusk. No recipe on Earth could ever recreate that kind of experience.
Dashing through the snow,
In a 200 horsepower hybrid fuel vehicle,
Over the hills we go,
Screaming all the way.
Oh Ho, No!
Wait, that’s not how the song goes? Then why is my head throbbing with Christmas carols and an endless to-do list of shopping, cooking, cleaning, and decorating to accomplish before the holidays hit? Pressure is mounting to make this short window of time as magical as a fairy tale, which inevitably turns it into quite the opposite experience. I know I’m not alone here based on the crazed, deranged looks staring back at me during many errand runs. Plans for a low-key celebration can quickly snowball out of control into a grand fete and before you know it, a dizzying array of demands await. Coordinating parties and managing difficult house guests, leave little space for anything but dread.
Let’s all take a moment to breathe, shall we? Peace and harmony aren’t just platitudes to espouse on seasonal greeting cards, and they certainly won’t manifest in such a state of extreme anxiety. While you can’t wrap it up with a shiny bow or have it shipped straight to your door in two days or less, taking care of your emotional well-being is really the greatest gift you can give this season. It may not seem like the most effective approach would start with a shot of espresso, but when you add a dose of CBD into the brew, the restorative results are unmistakable.

CBD oil has made a world of difference for me personally, especially at times of utmost stress. Extracted from the leaves, stem, and flowers of the hemp plant, it has no psychoactive properties, is legal in all 50 states, and readily found online. Consistently relieving anxiety, depression, inflammation, and nausea in early studies, it’s not just a Christmas miracle, but an everyday life preserver. Getting a therapeutic dose is easier than ever now, since you can find it bundled up in supplements, edibles, topical creams, and CBD vape oil, beyond just a straight tincture. That said, plain, unflavored oil is the most versatile for incorporating into recipes if pills simply don’t hold any appeal.
When it comes to culinary applications, a good rule of thumb is to substitute 3/4 to 1 teaspoon CBD oil for every serving of whatever oil is called for. That means if you were making a vinaigrette that yields four servings, remove 3 – 4 teaspoons of olive oil and replace it with CBD infusion. Take into consideration the strength of the oil when calibrating your formula as well, since quality can vary wildly between brands. In recipes meant for one, it’s much simpler; just give yourself one dose, as in the case for this balancing, calming, and simultaneously invigorating peppermint mocha latte.
Velvety frothed dairy-free milk meets the bracing bitterness of bold espresso, all tempered by a subtle undertone of chocolate indulgence. A light touch of peppermint evokes nostalgic memories of candy canes pulled off tinsel-topped presents, cool and refreshing, soothing and sweet. This unbeatable flavor sensation would be every bit as delicious without the added medicinal benefits, but not quite as effective for balancing out unreasonable mood instability.
It’s not hard to make the holidays a bit more merry and a little less scary.
Velvety frothed dairy-free milk meets the bracing bitterness of bold espresso, all tempered by a subtle undertone of chocolate indulgence. A light touch of peppermint evokes nostalgic memories of candy canes pulled off tinsel-topped presents, cool and refreshing, soothing and sweet. This unbeatable flavor sensation would be every bit as delicious without the added medicinal benefits, but not quite as effective for balancing out unreasonable mood instability.
*For best results, seek out a "barista blend" that's formulated specifically to make a richer micro-foam. Otherwise, soy generally works best due to the protein content, but nut milks are a good choice for a lighter option. Avoid rice milk unless there's no other option, as it tends to be watery and bland.