Tag: no-cook

In Fitfits and Starts

Cold salad might sound like a hard sell as we round the corner to the official beginning of winter, but rest assured that timatim fitfit is no average salad. Eschewing limp greens in favor of a hearty injera base, the tangled ribbons wrap around juicy tomatoes that sing of summer, yet simultaneously manage to hold a timeless tune. For anyone slipping into a stupor after days of heavy, undifferentiated holiday fare, this is just the antidote that will wake your palate back up.

What is Timatim Fitfit?

Not to be confused with the hot, saucy counterpart that is firfir, timatim fitfit is a chilled, uncooked version of the same overarching concept, built around extra or leftover (if there is such a thing) injera, fresh produce, and bold spices. I basically have Red Fox Spices on speed dial at this point, if there was such a thing for repeatedly ordering their 100% teff injera, in both ivory and brown. It’s the only source I’ve found for reliable, high-quality injera on demand, so it’s incredibly fortunate that it also happens to be an inspiring company that’s committed to empowering women, farmers, and sustainable practices, just as much as it is to creating superlative Ethiopian food.

Though often served as part of a larger spread, alongside stews and sautéed greens, timatim fitfit can easily stand as a light midday meal on its own. The combination of acidic dressing and slightly softened injera creates a texture that’s somewhere between panzanella and bread ceviche, if you can imagine such a thing. Those airy pockets in the injera act like tiny capillaries, drawing in the lime and berbere to saturate every bite with flavor.

What gives the dish its unmistakable zing is the interplay between berbere, lime, and tomatoes. Berbere has a warm, fragrant, and nuanced spice, layered with chilies, fenugreek, cardamom, ginger, and a half-dozen other subtle aromatics. Lime cuts through that heat, brightening the whole mixture and preventing the injera from going slack. It’s a short ingredient list on paper, but the combination has complexity that far exceeds such a simple recipe.

Fit to be Mixed

Like all Ethiopian dishes, there’s no single “authentic” recipe. In fact, there are many equally valid variations, often one blending into the definition of the next, making it difficult to pin down.

  • The easiest and most casual, common way to serve it is with injera torn into bits and all mixed together. This method is ideal for everyday eating, for snacking straight from the fridge, or for those glorious moments when leftover injera demands a second life.
  • If you’re looking to impress, roll the injera before slicing and serve the spirals at the base, topped with the seasoned vegetable mixture. The presentation transforms it from rustic to refined with almost no extra effort.

  • Remove the “fitfit,” and “timatim” is just the vegetables; great as a side or garnish, but not nearly as compelling as the full complement, if you ask me.

The one non-negotiable element is time. Let the mixture rest, because even ten minutes makes a world of difference. The spices need time to bloom and mingle, as the tomatoes release their juices and the seasoning permeates the injera.

Enjoying Injera

Is there any ingredient quite so versatile as injera, which can act as the vessel, entree, and serving utensil for the same dish? Timatim fitfit can demonstrate the full range of this inimitable Ethiopian flatbread without even trying. When you’re flush from a fresh restock, you can use a flat sheet of injera as the plate, and still another torn into pieces to scoop up your salad in hearty handfuls.

When served as part of a communal platter, timatim fitfit becomes the essential bright note that ties the whole meal together. It cuts through buttery niter kibbeh, balances earthy lentils, and offers a cooling reprieve between fiery mouthfuls of misir wat or shiro. It’s the palate cleanser, or perhaps an edible intermission.

For all its simplicity, timatim fitfit has a way of recalibrating your senses. It proves that winter meals can still be fresh and vibrant, that comfort food doesn’t need to be decadent, and that even leftover injera can become something transcendent with a little lime and spice.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments

Oodles of Zoodles

What happened to all the zoodles? I suppose the spiralizing craze has come and gone, giving way to more high-tech noodle solutions. Now they need to be packed with protein, like the pastas made with chickpeas and lentils, or so high in fiber that you can skip your morning Metamucil, in the case of some shirataki options. There’s a time and a place for every noodle, but please, bring back the zucchini noodles.

Making the Case for Zoodles

Fresh and crisp when raw, meltingly tender when cooked, it’s hard to beat a single ingredient noodle that’s simply made of whole vegetables. They’re neutral in flavor, don’t need any cooking when it’s hot out, and are an affordable option on any budget. Some may argue that needing a specialized tool to transform them into tightly coiled strands presents a considerable barrier to entry, but that’s just an uncreative excuse. Leave the spiralizer in the cupboard and reach for your peeler instead.

Sweetness and Spice

Shaving paper thin planks of zucchini creates luxurious lengths, approximating wide paparadelle, rather than the pedestrian spaghetti shapes that hand-crank spiralizers churn out. Adding an air of elegance to this commonplace vegetable makes it even more compelling on the dinner table, seeming like a truly special event, even if you’re making it just to clean out the fridge. It takes no time to slap together, tossed with lightly sautéed wild mushrooms and dressed with sweet orange, tangy mustard, and the bright spice of Aleppo pepper. Light, bright, and simple; just as seasonal produce should be.

Long Live Zucchini Noodles

Serve as is to make a compelling side, or add your favorite protein to transform it into a complete meal. If you so wanted, of course, you could bust out the spiralizer and make the more conventional thin strands, or even employ a basic julienne peeler for a similar result. All noodles are beautiful, and all zucchini should be treated with respect. Let’s revitalize the zoodle movement, one plate at a time.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments

Smash Hit

It should look like a murder scene when you’ve done it right. Guts splayed out across the inky black hard wood on full display, hemorrhaging fast into the gutters, it’s perverse in how right it feels. Beauty in decay, creation through destruction… Or maybe just a fun way to dispatch a garden variety vegetable.

You know how they say there are people who have a very punchable face? That’s how I feel about English cucumbers. Like water balloons waiting to be thrown, their existence inspires an insatiable urge for a very specific, target aggression. Aside from the instant gratification of destroying something beautiful, bashing cucumbers rather than merely slicing them actually serves a very flavorful purpose. The uneven nooks and crannies created by forcing them to split open allows them to more readily absorb dressing, whereas smooth cuts yield slick surfaces that let it roll right off.

This technique is typically seen in Asian cuisine, paired with fiery chilies to contrast with the cooling effect of chilled cucumbers, but that’s not the only game in town. Inspired by a splash of leftover gin, so scant that it barely seemed worth saving, I turned the classic Cucumber Collins cocktail into a salad. An herbaceous yet subtle foundation, a touch of citrus, and a hint of sweetness turn this act of vegetable vengeance into a thing of elegance and refinement.

Allow yourself the raw, primal joy of intentionally obliterating your ingredients. Amid the chaos, there’s a different kind of harmony, and perhaps a deeper appreciation for their resilience. Broken open, the cucumber is only stronger, more flavorful than ever.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)9 Comments

Marvelously Mundane

I can’t tell you a single thing I learned in my classes about Art History, but I can tell you in detail about where I went to lunch after. My forgetfulness is unsurprising, but the fact that I’ve dedicated so much brain space to a completely forgettable meal is genuinely infuriating. I’ll be the first to say that neither the eatery nor my order are or were special. Lemonade LA is like an expensive cafeteria for tech bros and hipsters that want to make healthier choices, short of bringing their own food to work. Assemble a tray of cold or hot options and be on your way.

School Lunch in SF

When it first opened in downtown San Francisco, I was one of the first people in line. Anything to shake up the routine of schoolwork and endless commutes. Given the slim vegan options, I immediately lit upon the avocado and tomato salad. It’s every bit as boring as it sounds: avocado, tomato, pine nuts, and lime vinaigrette. Perhaps it was comforting at least in part because it was so unremarkable. Fresh, rich, and satisfying, every single time.

All-Purpose Avocados

It’s the kind of thing you absolutely do not need a recipe for, yet it can be a helpful reminder in times of need. Need something for an impromptu happy hour, pot luck, or unannounced dinner guest? It’s a salad, yes, but also a side dish, salsa, topping, and plant-based ceviche, if you’re feeling fancy.

Serving Suggestions

That’s to say, you can serve it with chips like a dip, or heaped on top of toast. Toss in chickpeas or diced tofu for protein, or add more veggies like sliced hearts of palm, steamed asparagus, or roasted broccoli. Toss with chilled pasta or leafy green to make it a bigger, complete meal. Double it for a crowd or halve it to eat two servings at once, because for all it can do, it can’t do everything, and doesn’t keep well.

The Basic Blueprint

Here’s your cheat sheet. I’ve improvised and simplified the original approach considerably over the years, so trust me when I say that you can’t mess it up. Juicy tomatoes tossed with buttery cubes of ripe avocado, doused in bright citrus will never do you wrong.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments

Can I Prik Your Brain?

“Try to guess the secret ingredient. The seeds kind of give it away.”

Squinting hard into bowl of rapidly diminishing dip, as if staring more intensely would reveal a hidden message, I racked my brain. I could taste chilies, of course, which the seeds could be attributed to, but isn’t that too obvious? There was an undercurrent of garlic beneath the heat, a blast of sour lime, the salty, umami flavor of fermented soy… But what’s the base?

What is Nam Prik?

Nam prik is more than a mere condiment in Thai cuisine. Traditionally built on a foundation of fermented shrimp paste, it’s an appetizer, sauce, sandwich spread, and party starter all in one. Powerfully flavorful with an intense balance of sweet, sour, spicy, and salty tastes, it’s heady stuff that you won’t soon forget. Reimagined by my good friend and talented chef Philip Gelb, I struggled to pick apart the fully melded components.

Not-So-Secret Ingredient

At the risk of jeopardizing my foodie cred, I admitted defeat. “Eggplant,” he professed, with a conspiratorial grin. Raw eggplant, no less. Green Thai eggplant, unlike the Italian, Chinese, or Japanese varieties, can be eaten raw. Crunchy when simply sliced, it transforms into a soft and yielding paste, ready to soak in all the aromatic seasonings you can throw at it.

We Got The Funk

Nam Prik Gapi (or Kapi) made with the classic shrimp composition can be a bit polarizing. Some say its an acquired taste, like stinky tofu or other similarly pungent fermented foods. For the vegan version, fermented Chinese bean curd (furu) brings the funk in a mild-mannered way, more tangy than twisted. Doenjang and miso paste work together to add an earthy, salty depth, amplifying the umami throughout.

After hounding him for a few weeks, Phil graciously shared his recipe, possibly to get me off his case. Of this creation, he says, “This has recently become a favorite dish of mine. Ironic since I never would have tried it in the first place as the idea of a shrimp paste has no appeal to me. Since I have no memories of the taste of shrimp, I have no idea if this has any imitation characteristics. Nonetheless, the flavor of this dip is exceptional in and of itself. However, when I am on the other side of the planet in a stunningly beautiful vegan restaurant and my new friend picks that dish out of the menu, I am happy to try. A true umami bomb! Never thought about eating raw eggplant before but this recipe changes that attitude, completely. Dips like this are very common in Thailand, served as appetizers with raw, crunchy, fresh vegetables. I find fried tempeh to be the ideal texture and flavor to dip into this.”

As I finished off the last scoop of that addictive dip, the flavors of hot chilies, fermented bean curd, tangy lime, and earthy eggplant lingered on my tongue. It’s a marvel what can happen when you let fresh ingredients be your muse and simply trust in the process.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments

Crunch Time

I love cabbage. I don’t care how weird or uncool that makes me; I will never hide my penchant for these leafy brassicas. Look, I get the stigma, having historically been the food of peasants, the tragically poor and déclassé. After centuries of disrespect, I’d like to think I’m seeing glimmers of hope on the horizon for the humble cabbage.

That’s where the Crunchy Cabbage Salad at Loro comes in. For a place that bills itself as an Asian smokehouse and bar, they sure do know their way around the produce department. I was instantly smitten with their oak grilled snap peas that graced the menu over the summer, but this salad turned out to be the real sleeper hit. Arriving at the table showered with lemon zest, fresh mint, and candied cashews, the interplay of sugar and salt, crunchy and creamy, is exactly what makes it so compelling.

Gossamer-thin strands of shredded red cabbage intertwine with lightly pickled cucumbers and bites of tender green cabbage, sweet and mild, crisp yet somehow juicy. Coated in a cashew-ginger vinaigrette, the dressing has body from just a roasted cashew butter, preventing it from becoming cloying or heavy. Brightened by the fresh, raw spice and citrus, it’s the kind of condiment you’ll want on hand at all times. Go ahead, start mentally doubling or tripling that recipe right now to save the rest for later.

Loro keeps their secrets well, so I couldn’t get the official formula out of them. No matter; nothing will stand in the way of my love for cabbage. This is my take on the concept, with the added benefit of making about four times as much for a quarter of the price. Going slightly off-script, I found that smoked cashews add an even more compelling dimension, but simple roasted cashews would be equally satisfying.

Above all else, the real star of the show is the cabbage. Standing tall like fragile, tender greens never could, it’s a salad that travels well, keeps well, and quite simply won’t let you down.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)4 Comments