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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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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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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A Pretty Big Dill

Vegan cheese is booming. Long viewed as the final frontier for plant-based diets, the last holdout for hesitant omnivores, the choke-hold that Big Dairy has had on the industry is finally losing its grip. Still, the gap between accessible, everyday melting cheeses and gourmet cheeses fit for a charcuterie board is a wide, cavernous divide. When you want something nicer than generic cheddar-like shreds but not quite a triple cream brie, where’s there to turn?

Your own kitchen, of course.

Anyone who claims it’s impossible to make remarkable plant-based blocks and wedges at home clearly hasn’t even tried. There’s a hundred ways to go about it, but I happen to think that my latest approach especially is a pretty big dill. Dill Havarti, a soft, mild, and buttery cheese that originated in Denmark in the 19th century, is still a rare find in the dairy-free space. Distinctively fresh, herbal, and slightly tangy, it’s a timeless flavor combination and yet at the same time, an ideal option for celebrating spring.

It Slices! It Shreds! It Spreads! Yes, It Even MELTS!

When enjoyed within the first few hours, the texture is soft enough to use a schmear on bagels and toast. Once rested overnight, it solidifies into a proper soft block, fit to be sliced, shredded, and cubed at will.

Naturally, this beautiful block is 100% vegan and thus:

  • Dairy-free

But also made of pantry staples that make it affordable, accessible, and:

  • Oil-free
  • Nut-free
  • Seed-free
  • Gluten-free
  • Sugar-free

What About Carrageenan?

Don’t fall for the negative press surrounding this unnecessarily controversial ingredient. Carrageenan is derived from red seaweed, commonly used for its gelling, thickening, and stabilizing properties. Despite some health myths circulating, scientific studies have shown that carrageenan is perfectly safe for consumption. Agar, beloved by the vegan community for decades, has a lot in common.

Kappa carrageenan specifically is unique in making a stable gel that can be melted again after being set, creating something much more similar to dairy cheese. The structure itself is softer and creamier, as opposed to an agar gel that has a short, stiff bite. There’s nothing I would recommend as a reasonable substitute; it’s worth buying a bag online, especially when you consider how much money it can save you compared to buying artisan vegan cheese.

Better, Healthier Cheese For All

After going through untold amounts of pricey cashews and coconut oil, I can’t imagine going back. There’s nothing wrong with craving a better plant-based cheese than what’s on the market, no matter how many choices already exist. Until someone else steps up their dill Havarti game to produce something dairy-free on a larger scale, this is the only game in town. Luckily, it’s a win-win every time.

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