Tag: halloween

Be Afraid, Be Veggie Afraid

One of the many great side benefits of being vegan is that you never need to worry about inadvertently chomping down on a random bone fragment. There’s no risk of a poorly prepared fish fillet sending you to the dentist and all wings are boneless by default. Gone is the mysterious crunch that makes you question every life choice that led you to this particular meal.

Bone-Headed Ideas

Naturally, I’m just the kind of crazy to add extra bones back in. Marinated mushroom skulls are admittedly more cute than creepy, with wide-set eyes and toothy grins, charmingly cartoonish in an undead kind of way. They have a certain cheerful morbidity to them, which feels about right for Halloween.

Out Of My Skull

It turns out, white button mushrooms are just the right shape and size to transform into tiny skulls. A few strategic cuts create the eyes and nose, while a few lines through the stem do a surprisingly convincing job of suggesting little rows of rotten teeth. From there, all it takes is a leisurely bath in a punchy marinade for them to haunt your waking dreams. Umami, tangy, garlicky, and herbaceous enough to wake the dead, they really are scary good.

Proper Resting Places

Marinated mushrooms are infinitely useful for any event. Bury them in a graveyard of salad greens or sink them into a pit of hummus, ideally blended with blood-red beets, for maximum effect. They’d also be right at home on an antipasto platter, scattered over crostini, or passed around on toothpicks as a grim appetizer. Don’t forget about gnarled noodles splattered with red sauce, too.

It takes just a little extra effort to give the classic marinated mushroom a more festive face, but I promise, you’ll reap the rewards.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)Leave a comment

In Good Hands

Can vegans be cannibals? I think so. It’s not a question about flesh so much as it is ethics. Is there an ethical way to eat a human? Sure; humans can consent. Thus, theoretically, if a person said, “yes, please, you can eat my hand,” that hand is now vegan.

Don’t act like you’re shocked now. I’ve already relished meaty slices of feet, a bloody heart pulsing with flavor, and thick schmears of brain on toast. If anything, I think we have a strong moral imperative to eat our fellow human, considering how wasteful it is to let otherwise good meat rot in the ground, to say nothing of the environmental impacts. If they’ve lived a long life, I’m sure they would want us to honor that time on Earth by nourishing others.

Honestly, finding donors isn’t hard at all. You’d be amazed what people agree to everyday without reading the fine print. Every time you click “I have read and agree to the Terms & Conditions,” you’re basically one digital signature away from surrendering an appendage. In fact, it may already be too late…

Relax, you can keep your fingers this time. When I ask for a hand in the kitchen this Halloween, it’ll be to help arrange crackers around my Severed Hand Charcuterie. The horror is strictly skin deep; beneath the macabre exterior is a rich, creamy cheese ball loaded with smoky vegan bacon, pimentos, and a generous crack of black pepper. Salty ribbons of vegan prosciutto add another savory layer while giving the illusion of exposed muscle tissue, and sliced almond fingernails provide a subtle crunch, with a perfect manicure.

Since the presentation is the real feature here, I took a shortcut by using store-bought vegan cream cheese for the base. If you want to start from scratch, knock yourself out! You can also use any recipe for a vegan cheese ball instead; just make sure you end up with at least two cups of some soft vegan cheese material or else you’ll have to make a tiny baby hand. Conversely, if you’d like to make it even easier, you can snag some packaged vegan prosciutto, or any comparable cold cuts, shredded into strips.

No matter how you feel about eating animals, or humans, you’ll want to take a big slice out of this one.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)1 Comment

Meat Me In The Forest

Trees, barren and spindly, arms outstretched towards an empty sky, crowd in as if woven together. The trail begins to disappear, overtaken by their snaking roots. Darkness descends with a menacing weight, as each footstep takes you further and further from anything recognizable. Only thorns and sharp edges, throwing elbows to the face, welcome the intrusion. There’s no turning back because there’s no backwards or forwards at all. Only…

Abruptly, through the probing branches, lies a clearing with the moon beaming down a haunting spotlight. At the center stands a magnificent tree unlike all the others, charcoal bark ringed and lined with age, its limbs twisted like sourdough pretzels. More startling than the appearance of the tree itself, however, is was what hangs from it.

Cured meats.

Prosciutto, salami, pancetta, and pepperoni, perfumed with aromatic oils and glistening in the dappled light. Cheese cubes and lurid green olives beamed from the ends, skewered in place. It was a… Charcu-tree.

Tentatively stepping closer, lured in as if snared by an invisible fishing reel, it becomes clear that the smooth, round stones underneath are in fact, nothing of the sort. Picking one up, its becomes clear that this is a delicate rice cracker, toasted to a nutty, tawny brown finish, speckled lightly with sesame seeds. It’s impossible to put down, implausible to look away. Wouldn’t it be better to cover it with one of these cold cuts, waving so beguiling in the gentle breeze? But now that looks lonely with just one meaty strip, don’t you think? Go ahead, help yourself to a bit of cheddar, a briny olive; just a bit more wouldn’t hurt.

As long as you don’t plan on leaving this forest alive.

To make your own charcu-tree, all you need is a decorative plastic tree, or if you’re feeling industrious, a very clean branch from outside, stood upright in floral foam. Select 2 – 4 vegan cold cuts and drape them decoratively over the branches, tearing them into strips or shorter pieces as needed. Cut 1 – 2 vegan cheese blocks into cubes and skewer them on the ends. Finish with Castelvetrano olives skewered onto any remaining vacancies. Sprinkle crackers around the base and allow guests to assemble their own snacks, if they dare.

Hannah (BitterSweet)9 Comments

Red Rum

Night fell in layers, each one heavier than the last, the overhead sky black as spilled ink overhead. Thunder cracked like a shotgun as I pulled the cake from the oven, its intoxicating aroma curling through the air, whispering sweet secrets all through the house. Somehow sinister, with a boozy undertone, it clung to the air like ghosts to a grudge.

Red velvet cake has a dark side, you know. It’s not all cheery hues of crimson, especially when you take a more natural approach. Baked as a bundt, it takes the shape of a crown, denoting where it falls in the cake hierarchy, or so it would like to believe. Hard edges fall away to dense, moist crumb within, scented with rum, cocoa, and vanilla, luminously red as freshly spilled blood.

Though tame compared to the edible gore of previous years, the wickedly vivid, high-gloss drizzle turned out even better than expected. While it sets to an almost invisible gloss around each crenelation, it bleeds into the cake’s center with theatrical flair. Slice right away and you’ll have a glistening scarlet pool that spills onto the plate.

Pair thick, soft slices with jet black coffee or spiced cider, though it really comes alive alongside a dark rum cocktail, echoing the warmth that hides just beneath its brooding exterior. It has a haunting warmth that burns low and slow; comforting, but also cautionary. Too much of it, and things start to blur around the edges.

All work and no play makes for a dull baker. When I invite you to indulge, I don’t just mean in sugar and flour. Bake something that stains the plate red. Bake something that bites back.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)13 Comments

Buckle Up, Peanut Butter Cup

Homemade Halloween candy is fun and all, but let’s be honest: there’s not a single trick-or-treater on the streets getting that kind of plunder. This stuff, the good stuff, is reserved for more appreciative palates. Let’s cut to the chase and make a treat just for us older children here. No finicky caramelization, no individual wrappers, just a supersized version of a classic that doesn’t hold back.

Hauntingly Delicious

Year after year, polls show that peanut butter cups are the runaway favorite candy for little goblins and gremlins to nab on their sugar-crazed stroll. Taking the #1 spot for at least 40 states, that’s the most unanimous vote to come from the US since George Washington’s election. Riding the coattails of that cult classic, my jumbo Crunchy Peanut Butter Cup Torte is intentionally designed to hit all those same crowd-pleasing, nostalgic flavor notes in a more shareable format.

At least, I really hope you’ll share. If a sleeve of standard cups could send the average child into a sugar-induced frenzy for a solid hour, more than one slice could rocket them straight to the moon. Dark chocolate ganache helps temper the sweetness, capping off a center of buttery peanut mousse, creating a dangerously balanced duo that could lure unsuspecting eaters into overindulgence. Crunchy peanut butter effortlessly adds a contrasting textural element to make every bite seem novel and exciting, only adding to the risk. Maybe I should have called it “Peanut Butter Peril Pie” instead? Catchy, yes, but descriptive, not so much.

A Slice Of Life

Classic peanut butter cups deserve that hat tip in the title. Beyond the helpful reference point, it’s hard to imagine Halloween without them. That said, hand out whatever you want for those wretched door knockers (potatoes are surprisingly popular, too); save these slices for the real party.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)7 Comments