Newman’s Old Cookies

Twenty years is an incredibly long time when it comes to the lifespan of most products, and even the brands themselves. Combing through the archives to revisit the blog’s first years of life, it’s striking just how few of my earliest review features are still on the market. Rest in peace, my beloved Sweet & Sara marshmallows. May your memory be a blessing, Sunergia soy feta. Until we meet again, Luna tea cakes. I’ll see you in hell, Righteously Raw bars. I could go on, but there was one remarkable finding that snapped me out of that sad spiral: the very first thing I ever reviewed is still on store shelves, nationwide, to this day.

Newman-O’s, one of the earliest “healthy” Oreo doppelgangers that told us it was okay to eat cookies as long as they were organic, seems largely unchanged after two decades. The biggest difference is the label, bold and colorful, redesigned to capture what little attention spans shoppers have left. I thought this was the perfect opportunity to reopen my investigation to see if they still hold up to scrutiny.

Newman’s Own Organics launched the iconic Newman-O’s in 1993, the first line to expand the company’s offerings beyond their initial dressings and sauces. In addition to the Original sandwich crèmes up for re-examination today, additional flavors include Chocolate Crème, Mint, Peanut Butter, Strawberry, and Vanilla. Sadly, Ginger-O’s quietly disappeared from store shelves post pandemic, never to return. Of course, this was my favorite one. Yet again, my approval seems to be the ultimate kiss of death.

Oreo is said to be the world’s best-selling cookie, though Newman-O’s are hardly concerned about competing or dominating in any arena. 100% of the profits go to charity, which should make it a bit easier to swallow the $6.99 – 9.99 price tag, which is easily two or three times more than “America’s Favorite” cookie. Ostensibly, you’re paying for quality; organic flour and sugar, and no trans fats, high‑fructose corn syrup, or partially hydrogenated oils. Does it all add up when it comes to flavor, though?

Yes and no.

Yes, this is a solid sandwich cookie. Crisp chocolate wafers enclose a creamy white filling, balancing out the subtly bitter edge of the cocoa with a blast of vanilla frosting sweetness. They dissolve easily when dunked in non-dairy milk, melting away in the mouth without leaving a greasy residue. The two halves cleave away cleanly, satisfying for anyone that prefers to deconstruct their dessert to eat the components separately. Uncomplicated, they’re easy to love at any age.

No, it’s not vastly different from the experience of eating an Oreo. Maybe it’s the placebo effect that lends them the impression of having a cleaner finish and flavor, or that you can feel better about making a “smarter” choice. Eaten side by side, without the respective logos embossed on top, it might be difficult to tell them apart. That, however, is honestly a win for Newman. To offer the same addictive qualities as such a well-loved cookie, without sacrificing quality ingredients is a certain kind a coup.

I’m amazed, impressed, and relieved that Newman-O’s remains exactly as I remember it from my first foray into reviewing food. Before sponsorship, work for trade, influencers, and all the other noise muddying up the field, this is one I chose to buy with my own money, and still do.

Emerald Anniversary: 20 Years of BitterSweet

Twenty years. Two decades. I’ve already said it again and again, out loud and in my own head, and the numbers still don’t make sense. True, I was never any good at math, but I just don’t understand. How could it possibly be twenty years since BitterSweet began? I’ve been blogging longer than I haven’t, more than half of my life, a constant thread tethering me back to the world when I felt I could just as easily disappear. Looking back, I’m not entirely sure if it’s the blog that shaped my life, or my life that developed around the blog. They’re simply too deeply enmeshed, impossibly intertwined, to pick apart.

How it all started; the earliest form of BitterSweet

I never went into this with any bigger picture in mind. The only goal was to share the things I loved, and hopefully use that as a conduit to connect with more people of like minds. While the golden era of blogging is long past, as evidenced by the rarity of finding a dinosaur of a twenty year-old blog, I’d say I’ve been wildly successful in that regard. When publishers shot down my pitches, when brands turned me down for TikTokers who sing and dance, I still had this space that encouraged my creativity, supported my madness, and kept me going when the world at large told me to stop.

I’ve spent the better part of the past six months agonizing over how to commemorate such a huge milestone. The big two-oh only rolls around once, and I can’t begin to imagine if blogs will even exist another twenty years from now. Watching the date drawing ever closer, there was no idea grand enough, nor reasonably attainable, to do my beloved BitterSweet proper justice. Maybe it was time to make a mini cookbook, the Best of BitterSweet, available in print, or at least a zine? Or just an e-book? Barring that, perhaps a twenty-layer cake?

Emeralds Aren’t Forever, But Potentially Delicious

Finally, in the eleventh hour, it came to me: I was taking this entirely too seriously. The reason that I’ve been able to sustain this living archive, feeding it thrice weekly, every week, is that I just do whatever I want. I don’t do SEO properly, I don’t monetize it enough, I don’t use social media to its full potential, but you know what? That’s not what feeds my soul. I just need this to be my creative outlet, full of weird, wild, sometimes off-putting things. To that end, I strongly considered making an Emerald Salad Ring to honor the traditional 20-year anniversary gemstone, but ultimately, something sweet (and less repugnant) felt more fitting.

Edible Gems

Pandan candy emeralds, a stylized take on Japanese kohakutou, are essential shards of sweetened agar that are aged until sugar crystallizes on the outside. The interior remains soft like jelly for a crave-worthy textural contrast. Using pandan flavoring means the green color is already built in, bringing the ingredients list to a grand total of three, water and edible glitter not included. Brilliantly simple, recklessly creative, unconventionally delightful; Sounds like BitterSweet, alright.

I’m not one for grand gestures so I leave you with this, at least until the next regularly scheduled post. I’m sure as hell not stopping here. Twenty years is just another chapter in the larger story. There’s still a lot left to this story, even if no one knows how it will end, including the author.

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Isaw It Coming

Clearly, nothing I make can really faze my mom anymore. Speaking over the phone, I explained I was in the middle of making intestine skewers using eggplant, and her response was so tepid, I might as well have said I was folding laundry. Just routine activities you’d expect from me at this point. After making vegan anchovies, Korean blood sausages, and brain pate, what could really be more shocking? Thankfully, isaw is hardly disconcerting to begin with, aside from the animal components.

What Is Isaw?

Isaw is celebrated as one of the most popular street foods in the Philippines. Made from chicken or pig intestines marinated in soy sauce, vinegar, garlic, and chilies, they’re coiled onto skewers like incongruously delicate ribbons, and grilled over open flames until lightly charred, smoky, and just a little crisp at the edges.

Each skewer is a textural wonderland; chewy, bouncy, and perfect for those who appreciate a more engaging eating experience. They’re often dunked into a sharp vinegar dip, spiked with more chilies, onions, and a touch of lime.

Plant-Based Intestines? Try Eggplant!

Inspired by the blank canvas that is eggplant, I wanted to do something really special with the scant harvest of Japanese eggplants that came from my own backyard garden. Their firmer texture with very few seeds makes them an ideal candidate for more aggressive cooking like this, whereas large Italian globe eggplants would become a watery mess. Sliced into long, thin planks, they get a dunk in that flavorful marinade until soft enough to bend without breaking, threading gracefully onto sticks at will.

Short Cuts Without Cutting Corners

I did cut corners a bit when it came to cooking. Employing my trusty air fryer instead of a proper grill, perhaps they don’t have that same inimitable char, but they do gain a compellingly crisp finish, in no time at all, with very little mess.

Likewise, for the dipping sauce, I could simply repurpose the leftover marinade, since cross-contamination is a nonissue when we’re talking about basic veggies instead of meat drippings. Waste not, want not! Spike it with a bit of heat and citrus, and we’re in business.

Isaw, You-Saw, We-All-Saw

Are the results exactly like intestines? Absolutely not, I promise you that. No one would be fooled for a second. It is, however, a delicious interpretation inspired by traditional flavors that makes for a satisfying quick snack, starter, or side dish for a larger meal. Everyone can appreciate that. Made with care, creativity, and respect for where the original idea came from. It doesn’t need to be an exact replica to earn its place at the table.

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Just Nuts

Simple pleasures are what feel like genuine luxuries to me. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m not a fancy person; I don’t crave fine dining and I’d rather go foraging for food than shop at Erewhon, any day of the week.

Along those lines, I think about Marcona almonds as an attainable indulgence, but only once in a while. After all, the “queen of almonds” wouldn’t taste as royal if they became a daily habit, right? Skinless, buttery, with a soft yet crisp bite, they’re just nuts like any others, yet somehow so much more. When I see a neat little bowl of these tawny gems on display, I know we’re talking real money here.

As such, I don’t make Marcona almond money. I do, however, always have a stash of standard nonpareil almonds on hand, which are easily elevated to a level of greater opulence with just a touch of olive oil. What separates these nuts from the rest of the bushel is a higher fat content, so why not give them a little boost? Briefly frying the kernels in grassy, peppery olive oil gently cracks through their thin skins to infuse the meat inside.

Sizzling and popping in the pan, they unleash a cacophony of joyful sounds as their toasted, nutty scent fills the air. Merely the act of cooking them is a pleasure, long before they ever cross your lips. The whole experience of it never fails to brighten my day.

Seasoned gently with herbaceous rosemary, sweet orange, and delicate flaky salt, there’s no secret ingredient here. No crazy technique, no surprise twist. What you see is what you get, and what you get is even better than the combination sounds on paper. Yes, you need to use a generous amount of oil, which is worth it for this snack and beyond. Save the excess for cooking later to instantly boost the flavor of your next dish!

It doesn’t take great sums of money to feel rich. The simplest things, treated with love and respect, will get you there, too.

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Wordless Wednesday: Two Years of Unicorniverse

Lavender Bliss Latte
Cookies and Cream Brownie
Pesto Au Fromages Omelette
Opera Cake
Berry Bunny Macaron
Coconut Chocolate Raspberry Tart
La Vert Croissant Sandwich
Chocolate-Hazelnut Croissant
Pesto Au Fromages Omelette
Carrot Cake Blondie
Greek Omelette
Almond Croissant
Black Forest Cake
Spiced Pear Macaron

 

Unicorniverse European Bakery & Cafe

EST on July 21, 2023

2400 S. I-35, Ste. 130
Round Rock, TX 78681