It’s Your Funeral

When in doubt, eat potatoes.

That’s the prevailing wisdom keeping Funeral Potatoes at the forefront of southern wakes. Despite the dire name, they’re not the cause of funerals, but solace for those attending them. Little more than a cheesy potato bake, they’re the epitome of comfort food. Simple flavors and soft, creamy textures make it easy to eat, especially for the bereft who may be struggling to find their usual appetite for life. Leftovers keep for days, reheat beautifully, and serve generously, which is why it’s also a favorite for meal trains, making sure everyone still eats when times are tough.

Chalk it up primarily to user error, but the first time I attempted a veganized, slightly healthier version of the concept, those poor potatoes needed their own funeral. It was essentially chunky potato soup in a casserole dish, sloshing dangerously against the sides of its ceramic coffin. Worse yet is the fact that after one bite, I knew they had died in vain. Bland as sin, unctuous in a bad way, delivering such a dish would only cause more grief rather than relieve it.

Back to the drawing board, using the basics as guidelines rather than rules, I created a version accidentally perfect for Halloween, decked out in brilliant orange and black. Sweet potatoes are the new featured spud, contrasted by the spicy kick of sriracha, enveloped in a creamy, cheesy foundation. Traditionally, corn flake cereal is sprinkled on top for a crunchy finish, but I wanted a more savory and substantial option, springing for crushed blue corn tortilla chips instead. Let’s be honest: the “blue” masa has always looked black, but it works in its favor here, at least when served as a festival fall feature.

You’ll want to be buried in these potatoes. They’re not quite spicy enough to raise the dead, but hopefully, at least buoy your spirits. Whether you’re mourning, celebrating, or just navigating the strange limbo of being alive, these potatoes are here for you.

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October 27, 2025October 27, 2025

Hannah (BitterSweet)2 Comments

Kawarma Quandary

Hummus is so much more than just a dip. In much of the world, it’s an indispensable staple on par with coffee; the day can’t start without a generous serving. Although the debate rages on over who makes it best, exactly what should go into it, and how it should be served, we can all agree that more hummus is always a good thing. That’s why I’m cutting to the chase here, putting it front and center of the plate as the entree you’ve been craving. Hummus Kawarma Pie takes the question of double dipping off the table since you can dive right in with a fork.

Instant Kawarma Karma

Hummus kawarma is a sensation all on its own, typically made with our beloved blended chickpea base supporting a topping of fried lamb. Spiced generously and lavished with plenty of olive oil, it’s rich, aromatic, and devilishly decadent. Taking inspiration from classic shepherd’s pie, I took the concept and flipped it upside down, doubling up on thoroughly seasoned meatless grounds and smothering them with creamy homemade hummus. Baked until that heart filling begins bubbling up around the edges, it’s the crowd-pleasing casserole you didn’t know you were missing.

Simplifying and Serving

Though not exactly a quick fix meal, it’s worth the effort, down to the very last bite. You can lighten the work load a bit in a few ways though:

Prep the hummus in advance. Stored in the fridge in an airtight container, it should last for at least a week.
Use store-bought hummus. Alternately, take a semi-homemade approach and cut the workload in half. Grab two 8-ounce containers of your favorite hummus and spread it on thick.
Swap the spices in the kawarma for za’atar. The flavor will of course be different, but in an uniquely, equally tasty way.

Packed with protein, it’s a standalone powerhouse of a meal. To stretch it further and feed more people, you have plenty of options for accompaniments:

Toasted bread, warm pita, chips, or crackers for dipping and scooping.
Steamed broccoli, green beans, snap peas, or asparagus to get your veggies in.
Green salad as a lighter foil to such a hearty dish.

Hummus Among Us

Don’t leave hummus out cold as merely a token appetizer. Baking it with an aromatic meaty filling breathes new life into the predictable party starter, transforming it from supporting actor into the headlining star. The creamy hummus base becomes even richer as it bakes, absorbing the bold spices of the savory filling. Take hummus to new heights, turning it into a satisfying, flavorful entrée that will leave you craving more.

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April 21, 2025March 20, 2026

Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments

Bonkers For Sonkers

Of crisps, cobblers, crumbles, and pies, there’s a dizzying array of permutations, but none quite so badly snubbed as sonkers. Spellcheck thinks it’s a typo. Even the brown betty, buckle, grunt, slump, and pan dowdy get more respect. It’s no mystery why no one talks about sonkers in the same reverential tone, if at all: They’re ugly. The old fashioned sonker simply can’t compete in this visually-oriented age, which is a terrible shame for the heritage and flavor it puts at risk of going extinct.

What’s A Sonker?

There’s no official consensus on what absolutely defines a sonker, but in my eyes, it’s a soupy fruit dessert that’s topped with a baked pancake batter. Instead of pastry, biscuits, streusel, or breadcrumbs, you get a fluffy batter crowning berries, apples, stone fruit, or even sweet potatoes with enough liquid to call it a sauce. It can only be served with a spoon and must be placed in a bowl, unless you’re set on wearing your dessert, too.

Sonkers come from North Carolina, where they’re found almost exclusively. Legend has it that the name came about as a descriptor for how the topping tends to sink into the fruit, and over time, “sinker” turned into “sonker.” Some argue that it comes from the region’s Scottish settlers who believed the dessert topping looked like a grassy knoll, or a bundle of hay or straw, that could be used as a seat or saddle, AKA a sonker in the native dialect. Quite frankly, I’m not seeing it, but who am I to argue with historians?

Do The Dip

Nothing beats warm, juicy baked fruit with a scoop of ice cream melting on top. Or perhaps, some softly whipped cream slowly sinking into the surface? Well, sonkers get none of that frippery. Instead, the typical pairing is a milk dip. Don’t be fooled by the title because there’s no dipping involved. A milk dip is almost like an eggless crème anglaise, or a pourable pudding. A generous drizzle adds nothing to the visual appeal, and may in fact make it even less attractive, but trust me, you want to do the dip.

Sink Your Teeth Into This Sonker

Inspired by some canned pineapple and excess li hing, I knew what I had to do. As a symbol of southern hospitality, the pineapple was a perfect base to pay homage to its roots. Canned in its own juices, you get enough sweetness to dial the sugar way down, and plenty of flavorful liquid already built in. Using coconut milk for the dip is a natural extension of the tropical taste, bringing all the richness you need to finish a full pan with ease.

Though best shared with a group, be sure to warn others to perhaps put away their camera phones, and not to wear white if partaking. I won’t be held responsible for any errant drips and spills that may result.

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June 24, 2024March 16, 2026

Hannah (BitterSweet)2 Comments

Weather or Not

Mentally battered by an assault of inclement weather warnings, you’d think the general public would have staged a revolt against all forecasters at this point. The anxiety and stress piles up faster than the foretold falling flakes, thanks to the added hype that always comes with incessant social media repetition. Nine times out of ten, expectations don’t match the reality of the climate outside, but the hysteria is sure real. So much as suggest that there might be anything less than blue skies and people will turn out from all corners of the earth to wrestle that last roll of toilet paper out of your hands at the grocery store. It’s like a battle of life and death, to secure a stockpile before the world ends, regardless of the pitifully low probability of even flurries.

This is a phenomenon I’ve become somewhat immune to in the generally mild atmosphere of the bay area, but that same illogical impulse still grips me when I’m least expecting it. Rain is the new snow around here, since it appears so rarely and thus cripples unsteady drivers and fragile public transit systems that don’t know how to cope. I still feel the pain of all those back east, hunkering down for a brutal nor’easter right now, undoubtedly hurtling through their local markets as if their shopping carts were assault weapons.

As darkening skies approach, what’s going into your basket? What are the staples that immediately make the cut as sustenance to hold you through those difficult times (maybe even hours!) when the roads are too intimidating to traverse? Practicality is not my strong suit, and so the parade of groceries marching down the conveyor belt at checkout is typically laughable. Peanut butter, bread, frozen peas; sure, those are wise investments. But the random assortment of chocolates, half-priced hummus, and impulse buy mini gnocchi? Those are perhaps a bit less crucial for long-term survival. I would not fare well if ever faced with a real lock-down emergency.

Luckily, my unreasonable yet well-meaning instincts have led me to create some incredible combinations out of those curiously assembled ingredients. Those mini gnocchi, for example, caught my eye as ideal comfort food when the going got rough, and they didn’t disappoint even when the forecast did. There’s never been a better time to indulge in such a recipe, although I can’t say that there would ever come a bad time, either.

Lavished with a buttery cream sauce made of typical pantry staples, it could very well be the new face of emergency rations, despite its less urgent origins. Dauphinoise potatoes typically layers thinly sliced spuds in a casserole concoction, but since pasta keeps longer and is almost always on hand, gnocchi struck me as a natural extension of the concept. In more dire times, or healthier mindsets, I realized that swapping out the dumplings for simple legumes like chickpeas could make for an equally satisfying, comforting side dish, too. It’s all the same starchy, savory, subtly salty flavors which meld into an effortless indulgence in the end.

If you haven’t already gone through the throes of panic-induced grocery shopping, may I make three quick suggestions? 1) Make a list. 2) Avoid the candy aisle. 3) Write in mini gnocchi as a necessity, no matter how silly it may appear at first glance. You’ll thank me for this later.

Yield: Makes 4 – 6 Servings as a Side; 2 – 3 Servings as an Entree with Salad

Gnocchi Dauphinoise

Name: Gnocchi Dauphinoise
Prep time: 10 min
Cook time: 1 h 30 min
Total time: 1 h 40 min
Yield: 4
Cuisine: French
Ingredients: 1 Pound Mini Potato Gnocchi; 1/3 Cup Raw Cashews; 1 Cup Unsweetened Non-Dairy Milk; 1/3 Cup Vegetable Stock; 2 Tablespoons Vegan Butter; 1 Tablespoon Nutritional Yeast; 2 Cloves Garlic, Minced; 1/2 Teaspoon Dried Thyme; 1/2 Teaspoon Salt; 1/4 Teaspoon Ground White Pepper

Dauphinoise potatoes typically layers thinly sliced spuds in a casserole concoction, so potato-based gnocchi is a natural extension of the concept. Those savory, subtly salty flavors meld into an effortless indulgence.

Prep Time 10 minutes

Cook Time 1 hour 30 minutes

Total Time 1 hour 40 minutes

Ingredients

1 Pound Mini Potato Gnocchi
1/3 Cup Raw Cashews
1 Cup Unsweetened Non-Dairy Milk
1/3 Cup Vegetable Stock
2 Tablespoons Vegan Butter
1 Tablespoon Nutritional Yeast
2 Cloves Garlic, Minced
1/2 Teaspoon Dried Thyme
1/2 Teaspoon Salt
1/4 Teaspoon Ground White Pepper

Instructions

Preheat your oven to 300 degrees.
Gently separate the mini gnocchi and toss them into a 1 1/2 quart baking dish. They’re so small that they don’t need to be parboiled before baking.
Toss all of the remaining ingredients into a high-speed blender and pulverize on the highest setting until perfectly silky smooth. If you’re using a machine that has a bit less torque, soak the cashews for at
least 4 hours in advance before blender, to make them a bit softer and easier to emulsify. Blend for a full 6 – 8 minutes, until the mixture is steaming hot.
Pour the cashew cream all over the waiting gnocchi before easing the dish into the oven. Bake for 1 – 1 1/2 hours, until the gnocchi are fork-tender and the liquid is thick and rich. Top with freshly chopped parsley, if desired, and serve bubbling hot.

Recommended Products

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Nutrition Information:

Yield:

Serving Size:

1
Amount Per Serving: Calories: 253Total Fat: 9gSaturated Fat: 4gTrans Fat: 0gUnsaturated Fat: 4gCholesterol: 36mgSodium: 275mgCarbohydrates: 36gFiber: 2gSugar: 3gProtein: 8g

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 estimates.

March 7, 2018January 25, 2026

Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments

Tradition with a Twist

Thanksgiving purists, avert your eyes.

Truth be told, I can’t recall ever having a green bean casserole on the table at any of my childhood Thanksgiving celebrations. Perhaps there was one though, lovingly prepared by traditionalist grandmother, aunt, or uncle, but I sure never noticed. A holiday fraught with food complications even before I went vegan, there’s rarely been much on the expansive buffet table that got me excited, or even remotely hungry for that matter. Hunk of dry, bland turkey for you, my dear? How about a smidgen of mushy breadcrumbs swimming in a pool of their own tears? What about the gelatinous, can-shaped cranberry “sauce” that clearly has remained untouched up to this decade? No thanks, no thanks, and not on your life.

Mercifully, being that the menu remained more or less the same no matter who prepared it or where we met to eat, it became easier to predict the horrors that awaited me on that fated day of celebration. Prepared for the worst, it was a much more survivable experience, like going into battle with a map of where the landmines were hidden. It was still rough going- Downright traumatic at times, depending on the mortifying family memories that might be unearthed yet again- But at least you’d make it out alive.

Best of all, everyone would be so sick of the typical Thanksgiving fixings the next day that in spite of the copious embarrassment of leftovers, it wouldn’t be too difficult to plead for a dinner of Chinese takeout. That was the true festive meal, for all I was concerned.

Now on my own and separated by every member of my family by over 2,500 miles, I’m at a bit of a loss. I’ve finally gotten my wish, freed from the obligations of the traditional dinner, and I’m not quite sure I really want to escape it anymore. Suddenly those old-school favorites seem ripe with potential, and even though I have no plans or guests to feed, I can’t help but go back and create pieces of the feast that I always wished might be on the table.

That means combining the standard green bean casserole with an infusion of spicy Sichuan peppers, just hot enough to make your lips tingle but still keep the inherent savory soul of the baked dish intact. The twist might very well horrify those who expect nothing but the same menu, year after decade after century, but for anyone who’s wanted to shake things up just a bit, I can’t think of a better dish to start with.

Yield: Makes 6 – 8 Servings

Sichuan (Szechuan) Green Bean Casserole

Meet your new Thanksgiving tradition in a casserole dish. Combining the standard green bean casserole with an infusion of spicy sichuan peppers, the results are just hot enough to make your lips tingle but still keep the savory soul of the dish baked right in.

Prep Time 10 minutes

Cook Time 50 minutes

Total Time 1 hour

Ingredients

1 Pound Fresh Green Beans, Trimmed and Halved
1 Tablespoons Toasted Sesame Oil
1 Tablespoons Olive Oil
1 Medium Shallot, Minced
4 Cloves Garlic, Minced
1-Inch Fresh Ginger, Peeled and Minced
1 Cup Cremini or Button Mushrooms, Roughly Chopped
1 Cup Unsweetened, Plain Non-Dairy Milk
1/2 Cup Vegetable Broth
3 Tablespoons All Purpose Flour
2 Tablespoons Soy Sauce
2 Tablespoons Balsamic Vinegar
2 Teaspoons Brown Sugar, Firmly Packed
1 Teaspoon Dried Red Pepper Flakes
1/8 – 1/4 Teaspoon Ground Sichuan Pepper*
1 Cup Fried Shallots or Onions, Divided
3/4 Cup Crispy Fried Noodles or Wonton Strips

Instructions

Preheat your oven to 375 degrees.
Pour the sesame oil into a medium saucepan and heat over high. Once blisteringly hot, add the prepared green beans and saute while stirring briskly, until seared all over but still crisp; about 5 minutes. Remove from the pan and let cool.
Return the pan to the stove, down down the heat to medium, and add the olive oil, shallot, garlic, and ginger. Cook until aromatic and just barely browned around the edges; about 8 – 10 minutes. Introduce the mushrooms next and cook until softened. If any of the vegetables threaten to stick or burn, begin adding in splashes of the non-dairy milk.
Shake up the vegetable stock and flour in a closed jar to create a slurry. Add it into the pan, stirring to thoroughly incorporate, followed by the non-dairy milk. Introduce the soy sauce, vinegar, sugar, pepper flakes and Sichuan pepper next, reducing the heat to medium-low and stirring to combine. Continue to cook, stirring periodically, until the mixture comes to a gentle boil.
Remove from the stove and add the green beans back into the mixture.
Mix to combine, folding in 1/2 cup of the fried shallots as well.
Transfer everything into a 1 1/2-quart casserole dish and top evenly with the crispy fried noodles and remaining fried shallots. Bake for 30 – 35 minutes, until bubbly and golden brown.

Notes

*Given that true Sichuan peppercorns can be difficult to hunt down at times, you can omit them for an equally delicious, if less tongue-tingling experience.