Tag: recipe

Fiddle-Faddle Flädle

If you think about it, it’s a very fine line that divides bread and pasta. Leaveners; baking vs boiling; otherwise, it could be the same dough. There’s much more nuance to it, of course… And that’s where things get interesting.

Crepes, AKA pancakes, AKA pan-fried bread, could bridge that divide with remarkable ease. Such thin strips of a lightly toasted wheat batter are tender lengths of linguine waiting to happen. That’s the basic premise behind fläedlesuppe. Swirling in a clear broth, they add body to a brilliantly simple dish, the essence of comfort in a bowl. If you’ve enjoyed the warmth and soul-restorative powers of chicken noodle soup, you already know how compelling this combination can be.

We have the creativity of early Swabians to thank for this specialty. Flädle itself refers to the paper thin pancakes that are rolled and then sliced into delicate ribbons. Traditionally, fläedlesuppe consists only of these sliced crepes and a rich beef broth, perhaps with a few flecks of scallions or chives for color. In Austria, it’s known as frittatensuppe and in France, consommé célestine is essentially the same thing, though sometimes the pancakes are filled with cheese, as the French are apt to do.

Theoretically, it’s a brilliant way to use up leftovers, but practically, who has leftover crepes or pancakes? These are worth making fresh for the sole purpose of swimming in soup. There’s really nothing else to the dish, nothing more to be cooked, so it’s not any more work than it takes to whip up your average stack of flapjacks. If anything, it’s an ideal opportunity to practice your flipping skills; even if they end up torn or misshapen, they’ll just be sliced up anyway.

Especially on cold days, flädlesuppe feels like a warm embrace. It’s a dish that offers comfort in its simplest form—nourishing, soothing, and unpretentious. I see it as a very hopeful dish too. If bread can also be noodles, anything is possible. Even the most basic ingredients can turn into something extraordinary with creativity and care.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments

A Night Market To Remember

Have you ever had an insatiable craving for a food you’ve never had? Like nostalgia for something you’ve never done before, it feels so intimately familiar, so deeply embedded within your psyche, that it’s impossible to separate from your actual lived experience. For me, such is the case for Taiwanese popcorn chicken.

I can smell the fragrant oil infused with five spice and soy sauce, feel the crisp batter shattering between my teeth, and taste the heady umami of the entire composition blending into one arresting high note, like a flavor so loud you can actually hear it. Forgive me for waxing poetic, but if there was ever a dish to command such flowery prose, this is it.

Ingredient Upgrades

For me, the barrier to recreating my false memory of Taiwanese popcorn chicken isn’t replacing the poultry. Thick, juicy Donko Sugimoto shiitake mushroom caps, which come with the added bonus of ample umami already built in, make that a snap. Rather, it’s the mental block I encounter when considering deep-frying foods. Tending all that scalding hot oil just isn’t a fun prospect when cravings strike, which is why I opted for the healthier, less dangerous approach of air frying. Don’t worry, it’s not a sacrifice; the results are every bit as golden brown, crispy, and delicious.

Shining a Light on Taiwanese Night Market Street Eats

Taiwanese popcorn chicken, or yan su ji (鹽酥雞), is a beloved street food that’s a fundamental pillar of Taiwan’s bustling night markets. Quick to prepare, cheap, and easy to eat without breaking your stride, this snack is often served out of bags and eaten using toothpicks. Meant for sharing, perfect to pair with a few drinks, it’s a solid plan to either kick off or wind down your evening with an order.

Unforgettable Flavors

Deceptively simple, as many of the best things are, because the secret is in the seasoning. White pepper and Sichuan peppercorns create a warm, tingling heat that grows without stinging the sinuses, introducing a mala (mouth-numbing) sensation with a citrus-y brightness. You can feel the flame without getting burned, wild as that may sound. It’s hard to describe because it’s more than a basic flavor, which is a large part of the appeal.

Fresh basil leaves get the same treatment, fried for just a moment, until crisp and almost translucent. Balancing out the complete array of flavors with an herbal, sweet, and pungent finish, it’s another example of contrasting elements working in harmony. It’s a perfect microcosm of Taiwan’s approach to food: bold, intricate, and crafted with finesse.

Swaps and Substitutions

Given such a short list of ingredients, each one counts. Donko Sugimoto shiitake mushrooms are a non-negotiable. Firmer and thicker than plebeian shiitakes, they have a deeper, more concentrated and intense umami flavor to match. If you don’t spring for the real deal, it won’t measure up. Aside from that core component, there is some room for adaptation and substitutions:

  • Soy Sauce – Tamari or coconut aminos are great swaps, and you can opt for low-sodium versions if you’d like.
  • Chinkiang (Zhenjiang) Black Vinegar – Sweeter and more mellow than most vinegars, this is one I could drink straight from the bottle. In a pinch, aged balsamic can take its place.
  • Five-Spice Powder – Ratios vary depending on who you ask, but here’s how I like to mix mine up at home. Combine 2 Tablespoons Ground Star Anise, 2 Tablespoons Crushed Cinnamon Stick Pieces, 2 Teaspoons Ground Fennel Seeds, 2 Teaspoons Ground Ginger, and 1/4 Teaspoon Ground Cloves in a coffee or spice grinder and pulverize everything to a fine, consistent powder.
  • Granulated Sugar – It’s a teeny tiny mount, but if you must keep things strictly sugar-free, use a drop of liquid stevia or monk fruit concentrate instead.
  • White Pepper – Ground ginger or mustard, while not an exact match, can fill the gaps, though I’d strongly suggest you not trying to make this trade for best results.
  • :Tapioca Starch, Cornstarch, or Potato Starch – Still need more options? Fine! Pick a starch, any starch: Arrowroot, wheat starch, sweet potato starch, cassava flour, rice flour or any combination should do the trick.
  • Sichuan Peppercorns – There’s no replacing the mala sensation, but you could create a reasonably satisfying piquancy with ground black pepper and a pinch of lemon zest.
  • Shiitake Powder or MSG – You can never have too much umami. Though optional, these put the dish over the top.

Memories In The Making

Even without legitimate memories of Taiwanese popcorn chicken, popcorn shiitake far exceeds them. Rich, meaty shiitake mushrooms have a big umami advantage, and use a fraction of the oil it would take for the traditional deep-fried approach. You get all the spicy, crispy, savory satisfaction to create a fresh, lasting impression—for real this time.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments

Turnip The Beet

As much as I love a good food pun, I swear, this was completely unintentional. Up until the moment I started peeling away the outer skin, I thought for all the world that I was working with rutabaga. Then, that distinctive smell hit me; sharp and pungent, more like a radish than the sweet and starchy tuber I expected. Simply trying to use up odds and ends after another recipe photo shoot, I suppose it was fate that pumped up the volume to create these accidental turnip and beet hash browns.

Fleeced by Flannel

Red flannel hash is simply your traditional potato-based hash with addition of chopped beets, tinting all the spuds a rich ruby hue. You could perhaps squint and see it as a checkerboard arrangement with all its squares overlapping hues to account for the name. That said, it’s a bit of a misnomer because flannel itself is simply a woven fabric, regardless of pattern, despite the frequent association with a plaid or tartan. Semantics aside, it’s a humble, hearty, and comforting breakfast staple that will never let you down. Potatoes aren’t the only vegetative foundation that can support the concept.

Root Revelry

Sitting on the outskirts of most mainstream markets, turnips and rutabagas have more in common than not. You’d be forgiven for making the same mistake. Both come from the cabbage family and have a very similar appearance. Pale beige with a purple top, it’s easy to mix them up at a glace. Turnips are a bit rounder and more pale, whereas rutabaga have a darker, more yellow tint and tend to be a bit more oblong. As far as flavor goes, turnips have a subtly peppery bite, especially if eaten raw, while rutabaga have a sweeter flavor, like carrots, and a creamier texture when cooked. Fortunately, you can use both with great success; the results will be delicious regardless, just in different ways.

Serving With Style

Earthy and warming, this particular hash honors the legacy of the potato while giving it a more nuanced upgrade. The natural sweetness of red beets with punchy turnips pairs easily with almost anything to round out the plate. Infused with a smoky, savory, and subtly tangy flavor, it’s so much more than just bland, boring filler.

Serving suggestions include:

Hash It Out

Make some noise for the accidental smash hit of the winter! You’ll want to turnip the beat, on repeat, once you give it a spin.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)7 Comments

A Close Shave

Cauliflower can be many things, but rarely is it allowed to be itself these days. While grabbing a bite with friends, seeing it appear on a pizza—not blended into the crust, but perched right on top in all its snowy white, raw glory—was such a shock, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Everything about it sounds questionable, like biting into a chunk of impenetrable starch, but the cut made all the difference. Slicing it paper thin, as I had never seen before, was a revelation. Cool and crisp against the warm, gooey base, it was like an entirely new vegetable.

Mon Petit Chou-Fleur

Rather than pulling apart the clustered budding stems, considering the head as a whole completely changes the vegetable. Elegant yet understated, distinctive and still versatile, shaved cauliflower is now my favorite salad starter. Leave the lettuce at home for a more substantial, sturdy salad.

In this particular blend, thinly sliced cauliflower provides a delicate crunch that pairs perfectly with the tender edamame and cool cucumber. Crumbled vegan feta adds a creamy twang, while toasted pepitas finish with a nutty bite. Tossed in a silky, lemony tahini dressing, the salad is both refreshing and full of depth, with a hint of sweetness to balance the otherwise disparate elements.

The key to this cauliflower revelry? A mandoline.

Mandoline Tune-Up

Mandoline slicers are the most dangerous tools found in a kitchen. Otherwise known as a finger guillotine, digit decapitator, or the one-swipe skin remover, mandolines are notorious for their ability to quickly and efficiently cut through everything in their path. More often than not, that means those pitched razor blades mow through more than just carrots or potatoes. A moment of distraction or a slip of the hand can leave even experienced cooks seeing red. If you’re not afraid of your mandoline, you haven’t used it enough.

Looking Sharp

Why recommend such a hazardous appliance, even after numerous experiences that left a mark? There’s simply no other tool for the job. While a properly honed knife is essential, the sharpest edge can’t compete with the precision and consistency of a mandoline. That’s especially true when making delicate, thin shavings of cauliflower, rather than coarsely crumbled florets. So yes, despite those dire warnings, I’m telling you to put yourself in peril and use this modern torture device. If you’d like to keep all ten fingers, I have three easy tips for you:

  1. USE
  2. THE
  3. HAND GUARD

That’s it, that’s the secret to success. If you’ve lost the hand guard, don’t make this recipe. I won’t be held responsible for your hospital bill.

As visually stunning as it is delicious, each bite of cauliflower is paper-thin, creating a light, crisp, and satisfying texture. The result is a refreshing, bright salad that showcases the simplicity of raw cauliflower. Suspend your disbelief, watch your fingers, and give it a shot. Cauliflower is best when it can be itself, front and center.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)4 Comments

No Shito, Sherlock

Shito is unlike any other peppery potion on the planet. I want to say I developed a mild obsession with this Ghanian staple after editing and photographing one particularly inspiring article for Vegan Journal, but there’s nothing mild about it. While blisteringly hot habaneros are usually near the upper limit of my heat tolerance, when blended with sweet caramelized onions and robust tomatoes, their firepower is utterly transformed. It may still leave you gulping down water, but wanting more nonetheless.

What Is Shito?

“Shito” comes from the Ga language and is short for “shitor din,” which literally means “black pepper,” alluding to the dark color the paste takes on after cooking low and slow. The heat level can be calibrated to taste, unique to each individual cook, ranging from medium-hot to an edible inferno. Exact components and proportions vary by region and household, but common uniting factors include chilies, tomatoes, onions, garlic, ginger, and oil. Traditionally, dried fish and/or shrimp is the key to unlocking its distinctive body and richness, earthiness and umami. That may sound like a tough thing to emulate through vegan means, but when you have Sugimoto shiitake powder on deck, it’s as easy as opening a bag.

Shii-to (AKA, Shiitake Shito)

One unexpected benefit of using Sugimoto shiitake powder instead of dried seafood, or even simply ground, dried mushrooms, is that the incredibly fine powder absorbs more liquid, creating a thicker, more substantial sauce. Though it still separates as it sits, it’s much easier to use as part of a bold dip or topping that coats foods lavishly, rather than simply sliding off. Additionally, from a health standpoint, combining shiitake mushrooms with spices like chilies, garlic, and ginger can enhance their immune-boosting properties and increase the absorption of certain nutrients. Hot sauce really is good for your well being!

Spice Up Your Life

Simply swap out your usual hot sauce options for shito, and you’ll know what to do. It’s an all-purpose hot condiment that genuinely goes with everything. If you want a bit more guidance to get started, here are my top suggestions:

  • Spread on wraps and sandwiches
  • Drizzled on top of avocado toast
  • Swirled into soups
  • Simmered into curries
  • Mixed into hummus
  • Tossed with potato or pasta salads
  • Whisked with your favorite vinegar or citrus juice to make a vinaigrette
  • Used in marinades for tofu, seitan, tempeh, or any plant-based protein

Traditional Ghanian dishes that are ideal for pairing with shito include:

  • Waakye, a dish of rice and beans
  • Fufu, boiled and mashed starchy root vegetables like cassava, plantains, or yams
  • Jollof rice, pilaf seasoned with spices and tomatoes

I’m cutting this list short here because we’ll be here all day if I keep going. I have yet to find a single dish that isn’t enhanced by this infallible finishing touch.

FAQ

Still have some burning questions about shito? Don’t be afraid, ask away! A few of the most commonly asked queries are as follows.

Can I make shito oil-free?

No. Shito cannot be made without oil. Shito cannot be made with reduced oil. Shito is an oil-based hot sauce, like chili crisp, and won’t work any other way. Oil is an excellent carrier for spices especially, intensifying flavors and preserving them over longer periods of time, while also absorbing more readily into other dishes. Bear in mind that a serving will only be a teaspoon or two, so it’s not like you’re drinking of cup of oil straight.

How long does homemade shito keep?

When stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator, shito can last for at least a month, easily. Just make sure to keep it sealed and use a clean spoon each time you scoop some out to avoid contamination. For longer term storage, I’ve taken to freezing smaller jars so I can make a bigger batch and never run out. It’ll last in the freezer for at least 6 months. Place it in the fridge to slowly thaw out over the course of 24 hours when you’re ready to crack open the next one.

Can I halve the recipe?

Eight cups of hot sauce may sound like a lot to the average person, especially as a first time trial. You can easily cut the recipe in half if you’re not totally committed at first. Just plan to top off with a second batch soon after.

What can I substitute for habaneros?

Habaneros aren’t the only hot peppers in town. If you can’t get your hands on them or just want a change of pace, try using 4 – 6 scotch bonnet or 12 – 14 cayenne peppers. Feel free to experiment, mix and match, and make your own unique blend.

Peppered With Promise

To try shito is to love it. Speaking as a fair weather hot sauce fan, this potent little capsaicin elixir caught me completely off guard. Calling it revolutionary isn’t an overstatement; it’s the undefinable extra something special that I didn’t know my meals were missing. With every spoonful, shito unveils new layers of flavor that will forever change your eating experience for the better.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments

Boss Sauce

If tamales are on your agenda, doña sauce should be, too. Ubiquitous throughout Austin taquerias, high-end and low-brow, every plate is splashed with a shock of green salsa, clearly different from the rest. So commonplace that its absence is more notable than its presence, it didn’t even occur to me that it was a specific local phenomenon, invented just 20 years ago. More than just another salsa verde, salsa doña has secured a cult following without even trying.

What Is Doña Sauce, AKA Salsa Doña?

Invented by Bertha Gonzales while working at Tacodeli, it handily won an in-store salsa competition to snag a $30 prize. Given a Spanish honorific title out of respect, it became the signature flavor of this burgeoning chain, eventually being packaged for nationwide distribution. The amount of doña sauce being made everyday to meet the demand is staggering, to the tune of 60 pounds of jalapeños per individual taco shop, per day, to say nothing of commercial production.

Unforgettable Flavor

Built upon the smoky char of roasted jalapeños, garlic, and cilantro, such a simple foundation belies its complexity. Thick, rich, and creamy, it looks alarmingly like some dairy amalgamation at first, but that distinctive texture is all thanks to emulsified oil, much like an eggless aioli dip. Moderately spicy and somehow simultaneously cooling, brilliantly fresh and herbaceous, it’s hard to believe that this sensation comes together with only six common ingredients.

I Put That Sh*t on Everything

Tamales, tacos, burritos, nachos, queso, soups, burgers, wraps, sandwiches, salads, rice, refried beans… Stop me anytime, because the list of possible uses for salsa doña is truly endless. Anything that needs a little kick, regardless of the cuisine, is a prime candidate. The only thing I’d suggest not putting it on is your toothbrush, but then, you do you.

Often Imitated, Never Replicated

Tacodeli doña sauce copycat recipes abound. I don’t claim mine to be the most authentic since I wasn’t trying to recapture that lightning in a bottle. Instead, my version is inspired by the revered matriarch, leaning more heavily on the garlic and cilantro than other comparable renditions. Likewise, make it your own, dialing the ingredients up or down to taste. If you’d like yours hotter, leave the seeds in the jalapeños. Whatever you do, don’t let you tamales go naked. Especially when you’ve gone through the trouble of making such an important, labor-intensive holiday staple, they deserve the very best salsa to dress for the occasion.

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Hannah (BitterSweet)7 Comments