Tag: mushrooms

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)6 Comments

For Crying Out Loud

Thailand is a vegan paradise any day of the year. The word “jay” (เจ) is the key that will unlock centuries of Buddhist tradition, built on the principles of compassion towards all creatures. Splashed across yellow flags, restaurant signs, market stalls, and food packages, it’s as common as seeing an “open” sign on establishments elsewhere.

During Thailand’s annual Vegetarian Festival, it’s the only game in town, transforming even the most meat-centric dishes with plant-based makeovers. Experiencing firsthand how incredible the food scene was on a random visit in January, I can’t begin to imagine such superabundance on display. It’s a dream of mine to return in time for the festivities, though I may truly eat myself to ruin, given half a chance.

Much of the attraction is the opportunity to eat traditional Thai foods that usually don’t come with a naturally vegan or vegetarian option. Something like Crying Tiger (เสือร้องไห้; Suea Rong Hai) is exactly what I would make a beeline for. As meat-centric as main dishes come, it’s essentially just grilled beef served with Nam Jim Jaew (น้ำจิ้มแจ่ว). Bold yet balanced, a riot of intense flavors, it’s a deceptively simple dish that packs a serious punch. Despite how central the beef is to the whole concept, it’s just as simple to make it meatless.

While I remain firmly grounded for this year’s Vegetarian Festival, the distance won’t stop me from getting a taste of the celebration at home. Lion’s mane mushrooms are truly the beef of the earth, capable of being compressed into outrageously decadent steaks, the likes of which could satiate the most ravenous omnivore. A hard sear and heavy weight develops a smoky, charred crust encasing a succulent and tender interior, ideal for dousing in that fiery dipping sauce for a final kiss of heat.

The name “Crying Tiger” is considerably more contested than its ingredient list. There are plenty of theories about what exactly brought those tears to the tiger’s eyes. My favorite is the most folkloric, imagining that people would come across the remains of cattle hunted by tigers, with the brisket left behind. They would take this particularly rich cut for themselves, imagining the tiger looking back in regret at the delicious morsel it had abandoned. Hopefully it’s some consolation to our tiger that there was no kill necessary to make this particular prize.

Even if you skip the entree, don’t pass on the jaew. If you make the entree, you’re best advised to double the jaew. This potent mixture of dried chiles, lime juice, toasted rice powder, and shallot is the sort of condiment that makes itself indispensable, bringing enough heat, acidity, and depth to transform whatever happens to be within dipping distance. Though it usually contains fish sauce, I find that a combination of soy sauce and tamarind fills the gap with all the salty, tangy, pungent umami you could ask for.

Crying Tiger is served without fanfare or pretension, alongside a mound of sticky rice and fresh vegetables or herbs to temper the intensity. I like keeping that same spirit here. Let the lion’s mane take center stage, supported by a cooling, gently contrasting cast of characters. A few slices of crisp cucumbers, juicy tomato wedges, or fresh lettuce is all you really need, though you could always add a side of papaya salad or a light vegetable soup to stretch your entree into more servings.

Thailand will have to wait. Until then, homemade sliced lion’s mane mushroom steak, glossy with with fiery jaew, is hardly suffering. When you eat enough hot chilies to bring tears to your own eyes, you can almost imagine the tiger’s face when it realizes the best part of the meal has escaped its paws yet again.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)5 Comments

Acts of Lasagna

Lasagna is an act of love. Make no mistake, when you sit down to a glorious stack of noodles, red sauce, and cheese, someone is making a statement about their feelings. They’ve chosen to spend a solid chunk of their day planning, prepping, simmering, layering, and baking, all to share something that will disappear in minutes. Even quick fixes or make-ahead recipes declare, loud and clear, “I care about you.”

Love isn’t simple and easy like the movies, though, and a hot, freshly baked slab of lasagna isn’t always within reach. Time and energy for cooking is at a premium, especially for young families as school starts up once again. That doesn’t mean we should make compromises, in showing love, receiving it, or eating homemade lasagna. That’s what skillet lasagna was made for.

Home Skillet

Stack the deck in your favor without making sloppy stacks of noodles that will only be knocked over on the plate. Skillet lasagna keeps everything that matters while cutting out the time-consuming pageantry. Undulating ribbons of broken lasagna noodles tangle within a rich ragu beneath a crown of bubbling, lightly browned melted cheese. Instead of carefully constructing layer upon layer and waiting for the oven to work its magic, the whole thing comes together in under 30 minutes, start to finish, ready to serve right out of the pan.

Mushrooms Over Meat

The real secret to success is the incredible meaty umami imparted by Fungitarian Marinara. Given how unremarkable all of the other ingredients are, I was honestly shocked at the remarkable depth of flavor I found at the end of my fork. These saucy shrooms do the heavy lifting here, bringing a long-simmered complexity that tastes like it should have taken hours to develop. Walnuts and red lentils help complete that meaty sensation with toothsome texture and deeply satisfying protein in spades. It’s the kind of robust gravy that even your Italian nonna would be impressed by.

Use Your Noodles

Just because this dish was inspired by lasagna, it doesn’t mean you need to strictly stick to lasagna noodles. Any pasta will work, really, with my top suggestions being:

  • Mafalda: Short, wide, frilly ribbons that are essentially mini lasagna sheets, I would actually prefer these more than the full-sized version broken into pieces, but they’re more expensive and difficult to find.
  • Pappardelle, linguine, or fettuccini, broken into pieces: Though narrower, you’ll still enjoy a similar experience with small sheets of pasta in every bite.
  • Penne, ziti, rigatoni, or elbows: Any tube shape is ideal for holding more sauce, and this is definitely one saucy dish.

Truly, any noodle you prefer will work, as long as it’s cooked al dente before it hits the skillet. That includes alternatives like gluten-free pasta, high-protein pasta, and whole grain pasta.

Streamlined Solutions

For that matter, you could make this a one-pan meal if you wanted to use no-boil noodles to begin with. While I prefer cooking standard lasagna noodles separately to prevent them from getting mushy, if that extra pot of boiling water is what’s standing between you and a home-cooked dinner, by all means, take the assist when you can. In that case, you’ll want to add the broken no-boil noodles at the same time as the marinara, and increase the amount of broth to 2 1/2 – 3 cups total, adjusting as needed to yield tender pasta and plenty of sauce.

Smart Swaps

Call it “deconstructed” if you’re feeling fancy and don’t be afraid to make it your own! Want it cheesier? Fold extra vegan mozzarella shreds in before broiling, or drop dollops of tofu ricotta on top afterwards. Can’t eat nuts? Substitute crumbled tempeh or in a pinch, omit entirely. I’ve also had fantastic results using Fungitarian Original, and I have a good feeling that Asian Zing or Taco would be excellent candidates when you’re craving something more like a spicy arrabiata sauce.

Say It With Lasagna

Lasagna will always be a dish that comes straight from the heart, no matter what form it takes. I think “acts of lasagna” is my primary love language, since it leaves no room for ambiguity. There’s no second-guessing when someone feeds you lasagna, be it traditional, skillet, shortcut, or somewhere in between. They’re wearing their heart on their sleeve as plainly as the pasta on your plate. Making it more complicated doesn’t make it any better. Even if you’re cooking solo and planning for leftovers, self-love is essential, too. We all deserve more lasagna in our lives.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)13 Comments

Lion’s Share

Lion’s mane are the Swiss army knives of mushrooms. What other fungi can more seamlessly blur the line between plant matter and animal flesh, encompassing both chicken and beef? Pressed and seared, they morph into fillets worthy of a high-end steakhouse, almost infuriatingly rich and juicy. Battered and fried, they’re equally compelling as crispy morsels of popcorn chicken. Given their commensurately luxurious pricing, I’m forever torn on how best to prepare them. Of course, after intense debate, I realized there’s no need to choose when you can have both.

Combining the two ideas has already proven wildly successful for the classic Southern comfort food, chicken fried steak. That is, traditionally, steak prepared in the manner of fried chicken, first seared and then battered and fried to a crispy, crave-worthy finish. Despite having neither meat nor poultry involved, the procedure is almost exactly the same.

When working with lion’s mane mushrooms destined for beefy glory, the key is to first sear them off plain, pressing HARD on both sides. Don’t be shy, don’t worry about hurting their feelings; you need to lean in with all your weight like they owe you money. It takes real pure brute strength to transform the fibrous fungus into something genuinely meaty. Unlike the original animal-based prep, they benefit from a long, slow marinade at this point to amplify the inherently umami flavors.

Cream gravy is essential for a properly composed plate. Flecked with coarsely ground pepper, you can whip it up in minutes, before the steaks even think of cooling down. Deeply bronzed, tender at the core, and clad in that signature craggy, golden armor, they can withstand a drenching ladleful, or two, of the velvety sauce. The seared interior maintains a dense, hearty chew, while the fried exterior shatters away in delicate flakes. It’s indulgent, a little excessive, and completely justifiable.

The beauty of lion’s mane isn’t just in how convincingly it imitates meat, but in the way it refuses to be limited by it. Why settle for chicken or beef, when one mushroom can do both, often in the same bite?

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Hannah (BitterSweet)12 Comments

Full of Shiitake

Shiitake mushrooms have been the gateway to umami for countless young cooks. They were, in fact, a major contributor to the essential scientific understanding of umami we take for granted today. Long before we had the language to explain why fungi had a distinctive savory character akin to animal meat, shiitake proliferated in kitchens near and far, creating a depth of flavor exceeding the core constituents of any given dish.

Equally at home floating in a clear broth, blistered in a cast iron skillet, or folded into a rich stew, there’s no match for the versatility and power of this mushroom. A small handful of rehydrated shiitake can smell like a rainy forest floor or a five-star steakhouse, sometimes simultaneously. Few ingredients punch so far above their weight.

I’ve become an outspoken proponent of shiitake after years of witnessing their transformative power in my own cooking. As such, I have more shiitake recipes than I know what to do with. When anyone asks for suggestions, I just stare at the floor and mumble something about the recipe archive, knowing full well that it’s a dense thicket of odd titles to traverse. It’s about time I had a better answer, which leads me to this round-up of my top 40 shiitake mushroom recipes. Limiting myself to only 40 was a challenge because there are roughly 90 potential contenders on the blog, to date. No doubt, that total will continue to rise the moment I hit “publish”.

Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks; easy, intermediate, and advanced; elegant, rustic, and downright extravagant; this collection spans nearly every possible expression of the whole macrofungus, fresh and dried, I’ve personally enjoyed most. If you don’t know what to do with a sudden windfall of shiitake, I’ll help you make quick work of them.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)9 Comments

Bespoke Beoseot

Believe it or not, it’s almost impossible to overcook mushrooms. Aside from burning them, because anything is flammable if you try hard enough, hours-long braises won’t make fungi tough nor mushy. Their unique structural properties are unlike either vegetables or protein. While meat toughens and vegetables disintegrate, mushrooms contain chitin, a heat-stable polymer in their cell walls that maintains their toothsome, bouncy bite, no matter how long they’re in the hot seat.

Such resiliency makes them ideal candidates for heavy-duty braises the world over. Korean cuisine especially has perfected this technique, designed to coax deep, robust flavors into every fiber of any given ingredient.

The Art of the Jjim

Jjim are dishes simmered in a potent sauce until the liquid reduces into a glossy, concentrated glaze. Usually, this method is reserved for the tough cuts of short ribs or bone-in poultry which demand exceptional time and patience to tenderize.

However, the uncanny ability of mushrooms to withstand heat while acting as a literal flavor sponges opens the door to innovation. You get all the depth of a slow-simmered stew without having to babysit a pot for hours, only to have your dinner turn into savory dental floss.

Inspired by jjimdak, or dak jjim, depending on who you ask, we’re keeping the braise (jjim) and losing the chicken (dak) in favor of mushrooms (beoseot).

Braise without the Baggage

Beyond the fact that it’s a one-pot, “set it and forget it” dream, Beoseot Jjim has become a fast favorite because it solves the fundamental problem of the braise. Usually, a braise is a trade-off: to achieve a rich, layered, and nuanced sauce, you have to sacrifice the integrity of the ingredients. Using mushrooms means making no compromises.

  • Umami Synergy: Simmering mushrooms in a soy-based glaze sets the stage for a high-level meeting of savory molecules. The glutamates in the fungi shake hands with the fermented soybeans, creating a flavor that tastes unbelievably meaty despite its plant-based origins.
  • Chickened Out: Shredded oyster mushrooms, torn into long, irregular strips, mimic the fibrous grain of pulled chicken so effectively you might find yourself checking for bones.
  • Send Noodz: Although it’s not technically considered a conventional noodle dish, it wouldn’t be a jjim without dangmyeon (sweet potato starch noodles). These translucent threads are a remarkably efficient delivery system, soaking up the spicy, syrupy reduction, not a drop left behind.

Fungi are the Future

Perfectly exemplifying the iconic Korean sweet-salty-spicy trifecta, every bite punches above its weight. You get a dark, glossy glaze that clings to every shred of mushroom, punctuated by the sharp, clean heat of chilies. Without animal fat clouding the palate, the aromatics of ginger and garlic hit even harder.

It’s the kind of meal that feels indulgent and hearty, but since you’re eating a mountain of fungi instead of gristle and grease, you won’t leave the table immediately needing a nap. Get all the soul of the original dish, with none of the high-maintenance drama. In the face of fungi, chicken never stood a chance.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments