Tag: healthy

Anything But Garden Variety

Don’t be misled by the title; there’s nothing mundane about Garden Variety by Timothy Pakron. A work of inordinate beauty, it reads as both a manifesto for home gardeners and a passionate love letter to vegetables the world over. Author of the acclaimed Mississippi Vegan cookbook and eponymous blog that started it all, Mr. Pakron has already proven his prowess in the field, both figuratively and literally.

Written with poetic flair that remains fittingly down to earth, I was already hooked by the first page. It’s clear that this book is deeply personal, the product of a life’s worth of memories, aspirations, and inspirations set to print. Presented at a time when it’s all too tempting to click “skip to recipe,” it’s the complete package, the whole story, that brings me back to this text time and again. Aside from the incredibly detailed explanation of ingredients and tips for making the most of the book, you would be missing the point to head straight to the recipe sections. Flipping past the introductory pages would be like reading only the final pages of a novel; you’ll get the point, but none of the context, character, and meaning that makes it worth reading.

Beluga Lentil Nachos

Many recipes call for components found elsewhere in the book, such as the Tahini Cheese Sauce (page 89) that makes Beluga Lentil Nachos (page 210) possible. Rather than feeling cumbersome, it feels like a satisfying way to connect the dots between ideas. Nothing exists in a vacuum, after all. Recipes build upon one another in much the same way that the garden itself does, with one harvest feeding into the next. For the same reason you would plant the three sisters (corn, beans, and squash) together, each contributes something the others need. Each component is a building block that becomes more compelling as part of a larger whole. Besides, there’s no reason not to have an easy vegan cheese sauce on hand at all times to make nachos, and more, at will.

Citrusy Beets

Plated with a chef’s eye, dishes like Citrusy Beets (page 271), look fancy, but in fact celebrate simplicity. By merely letting fresh ingredients shine, they’re naturally beautiful. Simmered directly in orange juice with plenty of zest, the citrus permeates all the way to their very core rather than simply dressing them from the outside. As they cook, they become almost buttery and impossibly tender, taking on the bright, fragrant character of the orange while retaining their deep, earthy sweetness. It’s a simple technique with a big payoff.

Okra Eggplant Étouffée

The author’s southern roots come to the surface on dishes like Okra Eggplant Étouffée (page 244), transposing shrimp and crayfish so seamlessly that it’s hard to imagine the dish was ever built differently. Despite being daunting at a glance, especially for someone inexperienced with proper Creole and Cajun cooking, the procedure unfolds easily once the spices are assembled and vegetables cut. Roasting the eggplant separately keeps it intact in the stew yet velvety on the inside, giving the edges a slightly smoky char at the same time. Having a giant pot of this stew that’s layered with such complex flavor and fluffy rice to serve with it, I feel truly rich. If there’s only one recipe you make, though that would be a terribly shortsighted thing to do, it should be this one.

Timothy Pakron

I also appreciate how there’s a section on sourdough, specifically, highlighting the fact that wild yeast is something you can grow and cultivate, too. It’s one of many details that makes Garden Variety feel like a book meant to be lived with, read cover to cover, and even kept as a coffee table art book if you should so desire. The photography is equally integral to the experience, with every page offering a breathtaking glimpse into a more holistic world to inhabit, where growing, gathering, cooking, and eating all feel like parts of the same interconnected experience, at least for a little while.

Garden Variety is a vegan cookbook that doesn’t need to broadcast the message. Its argument is intrinsic, made through abundance and the genuinely joyful sharing of food. There are no allusions to imitating or replacing meat and none are needed to make the point. You don’t have to be a vegetable-lover to appreciate Garden Variety, but you will be by the time you’re through.

Hannah (BitterSweet)4 Comments

Happy Snacking, Don’t Die!

Food is all around us, if we’re patient and perceptive enough to look. For me, it’s something of a personal mantra. My passion for foraging took root in childhood, when I first discovered wild raspberries along the side of the road with my dad. In San Francisco, it truly blossomed, where Golden Gate Park became a veritable salad buffet, helping augment my meager college student’s budget.

Foraging, once a necessity for survival, is now an endangered skill. Whether it’s a lack of awareness or a lack of access, fewer people than ever are feeding themselves with the incredible abundance found right in our backyards. Happy Snacking, Don’t Die! by Alexis Nikole Nelson, better known as @blackforager to the online world, is a cookbook and a guidebook all in one, set on introducing the open-minded to the wonders of wild edibles.

Alexis is the ideal teacher for her inviting, disarmingly gentle, and encouraging approach, while taking the laws of the land seriously. As one could surmise from the title, she doesn’t romanticize foraging or gloss over its inherent dangers. Instead, she repeatedly emphasizes proper identification, ethical harvesting, and knowing when to simply leave a plant alone. That grounding makes the book feel trustworthy, even as its playful tone keeps things light.

Photo by JB Douglas

What elevates Happy Snacking, Don’t Die! beyond a field guide with recipes is Alexis herself. Her curiosity is infectious, her humor lands naturally, and her passion for reconnecting people with the landscape around them shines through on every page. The educational sections are approachable without talking down to the reader, making even unfamiliar botanical concepts feel accessible.

The recipes are similarly welcoming. Rather than treating wild ingredients as exotic novelties, Alexis incorporates them into dishes that feel both achievable and genuinely worth making. Some recipes inevitably depend on access to specific plants that not every reader will encounter, but that’s less a flaw of the book than a reality of regional foraging. More importantly, they illustrate the culinary potential of ingredients that most of us have spent our lives overlooking.

Candied Violets

Edible flowers have always been a favorite find of mine, since store-bought blossoms pale in comparison, if not outright wilt and rot in their packages. Candied Violets (page 53) preserve the harvest in aquafaba and sugar, using the same time-honored techniques that pastry chefs have practiced for centuries. Delicate and fragile as butterfly wings, they take on a crystalline sheen as they dry. Made for adorning equally precious sweet treats, even the broken petals can serve as beautiful natural sprinkles.

Lambsquarters & Artichoke Dip

Lambsquarters are also known as “wild spinach,” so it makes sense that they can seamlessly slip into the role of the conventional supermarket staple. Lambsquarters & Artichoke Dip (page 139), they blend right into a crowd-pleasing appetizer that no one would ever suspect started with a common backyard weed. Carried by the creamy, cheesy base, I can see any type of green vegetable working here, depending on what you can find in season.

Oyster Mushroom Chowda

Though I personally prefer a thick chowder, full of vegetables and herbs, the more brothy Oyster Mushroom Chowda (page 242) is no less comforting, especially on a chilly day. My mushrooms weren’t exactly foraged, but at least they were homegrown, thanks to a neighbor whose enthusiasm for cultivating oyster mushrooms has benefited my kitchen as well. Kombu and dulse lend a distinctly oceanic flavor, evocative of the mollusks that inspired the stew. It’s a restrained combination of ingredients that simply works, allowing the mushrooms’ natural umami to shine while scratching the same itch as a classic seafood chowder.

Juniper-Cured Carrot Lox

I’ve made a lot of lox in my lifetime; carrot, beet, tomato, konjac, eggplant. Juniper-Cured Carrot Lox (page 257) adds a new dimension to the typical formula, infusing the familiar smoky, salty profile with bright, piney, resinous notes. Peeled into long ribbons, the carrots soften almost instantly as the flax oil and curing mixture infuse through each strand. Draping easily over a bagel with cream cheese in a silky garland, additional garnishes are nice, but unnecessary when there’s already so much flavor packed into each bite.

Black Walnut Ice Cream

I may be a cheat in this case, but I’m not a liar. I’ll tell you right up front that I foraged for nothing to make the Maple Black Walnut Ice Cream (page 196). For shame, I did purchase the walnuts and maple syrup, and used cornstarch instead of Acorn Starch (page 176), too. What’s remarkable here is how many components of this recipe could be made from scratch if you were inclined to take things further. Even the vanilla extract has an optional upgrade path, with homemade Nocino (page 199) standing in for a deeper, walnut-inflected alternative. More sweet than nutty, I wish there was more emphasis placed on the nuts, though the high sugar content does keep the texture perfectly soft and scoopable straight from the freezer.

We spend so much of our lives filtering out the plants around us that they become little more than green background noise. Through equal parts natural history, personal storytelling, and practical instruction, Happy Snacking, Don’t Die! teaches readers to see again. Even if you’re never lucky enough to harvest morels from your local forest, you’ll likely come away looking at what does grow in your neighborhood with newfound appreciation.

Hannah (BitterSweet)12 Comments

Greens of Resistance

Texas is not the place to grow tender salad greens. Sure, the seeds will sprout, propelled through the soil at the barest hint of moisture and warmth, and that’s where they’ll wish they stopped. No amount of water or shade will protect the defenseless little leaves from the ambient heat, bearing down mercilessly and indiscriminately on all those below. The sun does not negotiate. It does not care how carefully the beds were prepared or how faithfully the gardener tends them. It simply arrives each morning with renewed intensity, turning cool-season dreams into compost.

Yet there are still plants that meet this punishment as a kind of blessing. Where delicate baby spinach would wilt in seconds, Malabar spinach thrives. The same heat that sends tender greens into panic coaxes this tropical vine into exuberance. Unfurling thick, succulent leaves on thick red or green stems, they would survive under the most dire conditions.

Granted, despite its name, Malabar spinach, also known as alugbati, Ceylon spinach, Indian spinach, and vine spinach, is not a true spinach at all. It belongs to an entirely different plant family and bears little resemblance to its cool-weather namesake beyond its culinary use. Native to the tropical regions of South Asia, particularly the Malabar Coast of southwestern India, the vine evolved in climates where extreme heat and humidity are par for the course. For centuries, it’s been a vital, dependable source of greens when more temperamental vegetables falter.

Thick and glossy, almost waxy to the touch, I would describe the leaves as being distinctly juicy. The flavor is mild, and while they can be eaten raw, most people prefer to cook them due to their subtly slimy texture, similar to okra. It’s exactly the inspiration, and addition, I needed to make a quick and satisfying soup, as boldly green as the whole garden, condensed into one bowl. Surrendering only to the heat of the stove, those succulent leaves blend into a velvety mixture, brightened with jalapeño, cilantro, and lemon, with a touch of cashew butter for richness. Now, this is what summer tastes like to me.

I’m not a skilled gardener and the climate is less than accommodating. Malabar spinach is one of the very few plants I can trust will feed me well, no matter what. A single plant can transform from a modest seedling into a sprawling curtain of foliage within a matter of weeks. Hope you like spinach, because there’s more where this came from.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments

Hail, Caesar!

Applying heat to lettuce goes against everything I’ve ever been taught about the proper treatment of delicate leafy greens. Scared off by visions of slimy, wilted iceberg, the mere concept of tossing a few defenseless heads of romaine onto a roaring grill sounds like some nauseating joke. Heat and its transformative properties have the last laugh though; screaming-hot grates merely char the surface, imparting a bold new world of flavor in their wake while leaving the refreshingly crisp heart intact.

Bringing the Heat

In mere minutes, the outer leaves begin to blister and char around the edges, picking up a heady smokiness that no bottled dressing could ever imitate. Still, the center remains impossibly cool and crunchy, creating a study in contrasts with every bite: warm and cold, tender and crisp, bitter and sweet vegetal freshness. Drenched in a bold, punchy garlic dressing, heightened with lemon, briny capers, and enough umami to make your taste buds sing, it plays the classic tune in a new key.

Side or Centerpiece

Effortlessly elegant as a side dish, it’s equally happy stealing the spotlight for dinner. You’ve got beans in the dressing for your protein, after all, if you’re worried about nutritional balance. In that case, I’d say this recipe serves one, so plan to double up or don’t plan to share. This recipe was originally printed in my best-selling cookbook, Real Food, Really Fast! and is still a regular guest at my table to this day.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments

Barley There

Unlike many other ancient grains, barley has managed to maintain a modest degree of modern visibility. Most people are far more likely to recognize it in its whole grain form than as a flour. Even so, I’d wager the first thing that came to mind when I mentioned “barley” was soup. Mushroom-barley, vegetable-barley, beef-barley; it’s been pigeonholed into brothy comfort food for so long that it’s easy to forget how versatile and diverse it truly is.

Black Nile Barley is a perfect example. Past the familiar taxonomy of hulled, hulless, quick, and pearl barley lies a world of heirloom cultivars. Wrapped in a rich purple-black sheath, this dramatic variety is poised to pull barley out of the stockpot and back onto the center of the table. No mere novelty, this rare heritage grain isn’t found in your average grocery store. 

Trying Grand Teton Ancient Grains Black Nile Barley berries changed everything I thought I knew about the grain. Instead of the pale, utilitarian barley found collecting dust in bulk bags, these berries looked almost jewel-like. Cooked, they held their shape beautifully, delivering a pleasantly chewy texture and a depth of flavor that felt far more akin to wild rice or farro than the barley of my childhood.

Black Nile Barley Tabbouleh

Origin of the Original Barley

Descended from dark-pigmented barley strains historically grown in the Nile River region, evidence of wild barley dates back over 10,000 years ago in the Fertile Crescent and the Tibetan Plateau. In Ancient Egypt, Black Nile Barley was the food of the people, while emmer was reserved for nobility. Thriving alongside the Nile River, barley was abundant and affordable, feeding both humans and animals alike. While selective breeding has often prioritized yield and uniformity, it has also stripped away the vitality, nutrition, and complex flavors that once defined it.

Mediterranean Black Nile Barley Salad

Barley a Difference

What about black barley? Black barley isn’t a single variety, but rather a broad category encompassing any barley with a naturally dark outer bran. Black Nile Barley is one such variety, distinguished by its origin and heirloom pedigree. While all Black Nile Barley is black barley, not all black barley is Black Nile Barley. Other black barley cultivars are grown throughout Asia, Africa, and Europe, each with its own history, flavor, and growing characteristics. The distinction is similar to that between apples and Honeycrisp apples or rice and Carolina Gold rice. Black Nile Barley, such as that grown by Grand Teton Ancient Grains, preserves the defining characteristics of this historic cultivar that make it so special.

Black Nile Barley Pitaya Porridge

Nutritional Dark Horse

Even the most impoverished Egyptians found great nourishment in Black Nile Barley. Distinguished by its naturally dark indigo bran, the color comes from anthocyanins, the same family of pigments that gives blueberries, black rice, and purple corn their dramatic hues, along with a impressive dose of antioxidants. Aside from the arresting color, even more notable is remarkable amount of manganese in every 1/2 cup (cooked) serving, to the tune of 97% of your RDA. It’s also a great source of thiamine, selenium, magnesium, riboflavin, niacin, iron, phosphorus, potassium, zinc, and copper. Who needs supplements when you can eat your vitamins?

In case you’re worried more about the bigger picture of macronutrients, don’t worry; Black Nile Barley has you covered. Barley has more fiber and protein than modern wheat, at a whopping 16 grams and 11 – 12 grams, respectively. Because the outer bran remains intact, you get many more nutritional benefits than pearl barley, too. The only dietary caution is that it does contain gluten, and is thus unsuitable for our celiac friends.

Black Nile Barley and Vegetable Soup

What Does Black Nile Barley Taste Like?

Pearl barley is prized for its mild, subtly sweet, and agreeable taste that plays well with all herbs and spices. Black Nile Barley has a bolder character that isn’t afraid to make itself known. Possessing an incredible depth of flavor that leads with notes of roasted nuts, bitter cacao, and freshly brewed coffee, it unfolds into a rich, earthy complexity with a lingering finish reminiscent of dark toast and molasses. Bold yet balanced, it’s a grain that refuses to stay in the background, bringing character and intensity to every dish it touches.

How to Cook Black Nile Barley

Like all unprocessed whole grains, Black Nile Barley rewards a little patience. On the plus side, it’s much harder to overcook, and grains remain firm and toothsome for a wide range of possible uses. Rinsing the grains before cooking is a good idea to remove any dust or field debris, but soaking isn’t necessary.

  • Stove Top: Combine 1 cup of Black Nile Barley with 3 cups of water or broth. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat to maintain a gentle simmer. Cover and cook for 45 – 60 minutes, or until the grains are tender but still pleasantly chewy. If any liquid remains, simply drain it before serving. Letting the barley rest for 5 to 10 minutes off the heat allows the grains to firm up slightly and absorb any remaining moisture.
  • Pressure Cooker: Combine 1 cup of Black Nile Barley with 2 1/2 cups of water or broth and cook on High Pressure for 20 – 25 minutes. Allow the pressure to release naturally for about 10 minutes before venting any remaining pressure. Drain if needed. The result is evenly cooked barley with a tender interior and satisfying bite.

Black Nile Barley Veggie Burger

Black Nile Barley Uses and Recipe Ideas

Anywhere you’d reach for farro, wheat berries, brown rice, or even quinoa, Black Nile Barley can step in just as easily. Lending both visual appeal and satisfying bite to everything from simple side dishes to hearty mains, it’s a remarkably versatile ingredient that deserves far more than a supporting role.

  • Grain bowls: Build a hearty meal by topping cooked Black Nile Barley with roasted vegetables, crispy tofu, beans, avocado, or a drizzle of tahini. Its chewy texture holds up well under warm and cold toppings alike.
  • Grain salads: Toss cooled barley with fresh herbs, cucumbers, tomatoes, roasted vegetables, nuts, vegan cheese, or a bright vinaigrette. Unlike softer grains, it stays pleasantly firm even after a day in the refrigerator. That makes it especially great fodder for packed school lunches, travel, picnics, and potlucks.
  • Pilafs: Sauté onions, garlic, and mushrooms before simmering the barley in vegetable broth. Finish with fresh herbs for a simple yet deeply flavorful side dish.
  • Soups and stews: While Black Nile Barley is versatile enough to move beyond soup, it still excels in its most familiar role. The grains absorb broth without losing their shape, making them ideal for vegetable, mushroom, or bean-based soups.
  • Breakfast porridge: Cook the barley until tender, then serve with your favorite non-dairy milk, cinnamon, maple syrup or agave, toasted nuts, and fresh or dried fruit for a hearty alternative to oatmeal.
  • Stuffed vegetables: Mix cooked barley with sautéed vegetables, herbs, vegan cheese, and/or meatless grounds before stuffing cabbage, peppers, tomatoes, zucchini, or winter squash. 
  • Veggie burgers: Fold cooked barley into bean- or lentil-based burger mixtures to add texture, structure, and a satisfying chew.
  • Risotto, AKA barlotto: Swap Arborio rice for barley to create a rustic variation on risotto with any seasonal vegetables on hand.
  • Bread: Typically used alongside at least some wheat flour, barley flour by itself makes incredibly dense loaves. Best served toasted or alongside brothy dishes where it can soak up liquid, this bread leans into heft rather than levity, often improved by a touch of moisture or fat to soften its naturally tight crumb.
  • Pilaf: Simply cooked with broth, olive oil, butter, or fresh herbs, Black Nile Barley makes an excellent side dish to pair with your favorite plant-based protein. If you want to spice things up, consider adding curry powder, toasted cashews, and fresh cilantro to make a biryani-inspired variation.

The Stuff(ing) of Legends

Barley has culinary potential that far exceeds its traditional trappings of soup and stew, but there’s still merit in those classic parings. Deeply comforting, tried-and-true, mushroom-barley soup is the unshakable foundation that inspired these stuffed peppers. Instead of watering things down with a half gallon of broth, the same earthy flavors are concentrated into a hearty filling of sautéed onions, mushrooms, herbs, and chewy Black Nile Barley. Tucked inside sweet bell peppers and baked until tender, they capture everything that makes the classic pairing so enduring while proving that barley deserves a place well beyond the stock pot.

What’s Old is New Again

Black Nile Barley is a bridge to the past. Cultivated for millennia yet largely absent from modern menus, the fresh crop from Grand Teton Ancient Grains offers a rare opportunity to reconnect with one of humanity’s oldest cultivated grains. Its remarkable history is reason enough to seek it out, but its rich, nutty flavor, satisfying chew, and remarkable versatility are what earn it a permanent place in my pantry.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments

Cold as Ice

Serving food that’s still frozen is a capital offense. Serving food with whole ice cubes in it, however, is an asset rather than an error. After literally drinking through gallons of chilled soups over the years, pouring them into insulated mugs to sip on like savory smoothies, it’s staggering that the thought didn’t occur to me sooner. Gracefully maintaining their composure while other bowls start sweating, there’s nothing more refreshing when sweltering heat bears down midday. Gazpacho is an obvious, well-qualified candidate, but I was inspired to look further afield to another cool contender.

Drink Your Vegetables

Okroshka is sometimes described as a liquid salad, and with the tart tang of buttermilk or kefir that’s evocative of a creamy vinaigrette, it’s an apt comparison. Grassy and milky, light and soothing, it tastes like the sensation of stepping out of the sun and into shade. Finely chopped cucumbers, radishes, and potatoes are essential, swimming beneath a marsh of fresh dill and green onions. Traditionalist may include ham, while vegetarian versions opt for hard boiled eggs, which brings me to the other white meat for my version: tofu.

Melt Down

Worried about ice cubes watering down your soup? Don’t be silly. This particular blend is meant to be brothy, not the sort of thick stew that would suffer from the intrusion. If you’re the type that likes to crunch on ice, you get the bonus of added texture, and if you prefer to spare your teeth, just spoon around the cubes as you go. It doesn’t have to be bland old frozen water, either. Make custom soup cubes using:

  • Vegetable or mushroom stock
  • Tomato juice
  • Unsweetened non-dairy milk
  • Diluted pickle brine

Cubed Crusade

I’m well aware that the most American thing to do is add copious amounts of ice to everything. What can I say; I can’t outrun my cultural conditioning, even when crafting a Russian staple. Look, if Jacques Pépin says it’s okay to put ice in red wine, then surely, we can start putting ice in soup. Okroshka, cool, calm, and composed, can withstand the perceived faux-pas. If we’re adding tofu in anyway, I think we’ve already passed the point of offending the purists.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)7 Comments