Tag: starter

Garden Variety Tartare

I love a beet tartare, for the obvious pun of course, and because I have a certain penchant for beets in all forms. The closest a beet can come to emulating beef, however, is that one letter difference in name. For that, we need to call in the tomatoes.

Tartare’d Up

Tomato tartare is a perennial favorite for highlighting peak summer produce in its own rights. Juicy heirlooms bursting from their skins, meaty and umami, have never been shy about stealing the show. Taken a step further, they’ve been used to create remarkably successful facsimiles for tuna, often infused with sake, miso, and nori, transformed into convincingly oceanic sashimi and sushi. Even I started getting sidetracked by luminous tuna towers with layers of buttery avocado, but there’s something different I was after. What I haven’t seen, amidst all that tomato ephemera, is a tartare where they’re treated like proper raw beef.

Yes, We Can

Turn up your nose at canned tomatoes if you’d like, but they’re exactly the shortcut we need here. Quality counts, especially with so few ingredients, so don’t skimp on the bargain brand and expect a gourmet experience. Proper peeled, whole San Marzano tomatoes are ripe with natural savory flavor, never mealy, and downright buttery on the tongue. Slowly roasting them further concentrates their flavor and removes any watery excess that might shatter the illusion. Then, it’s as simple as folding in the traditional accoutrements of shallots, capers, and Dijon mustard, though a dab of sharp horseradish would be most welcome, too.

Raise a Toast to Tomatoes

Make it fancy by using a ring mold, or cookie or biscuit cutter, to make a perfect round on the plate, or pile it just as elegantly into a dish. What really seals the deal, though it’s entirely aesthetic, is the peeled yellow cherry tomato, looking for all the world like a gleaming egg yolk sitting delicately on top. Who thought tartare could be totally made from tomatoes, while still carrying the same beefy swagger, rich decadence, and undeniable air of a special occasion? You will, the moment you dip in your toast.

Continue reading “Garden Variety Tartare” →

Hannah (BitterSweet)4 Comments

Stick To It

As much as I love edamame, I’m loathe to order them at a restaurant. They have to be something really special, perhaps charred with a smoky kiss from the wok, anointed with enough garlic to ruin any date, to merit real consideration. The fact of the matter is that in most cases, they’re merely the same green pods anyone could grab from the freezer, barely thawed enough to melt the ice crystals, and seasoned either with too much or too little salt; there’s never any middle ground.

Edamame, though admittedly perfect beer snacks as is, deserve so much more care. The bar is so low that the bare minimum of creativity hooks me like a hapless, hungry fish. “Edamame Sticks” did the trick, in just that one line. It was printed on a menu online with no further description, and no means of ordering, but when has that ever stopped me before?

Wrapped up in a thin sheath of wheat-based egg roll skin, chopped edamame are granted the thoughtful application of spices and aromatics that quick serves can never afford. Far from groundbreaking, the complement of garlic, ginger, soy sauce, and sesame oil are simply playing the hits that the crowd most wants to hear. Once fried, bubbling surface of the wrappers bronzed and resoundingly crisp, no one could deny these beans.

The only problem with edamame is when they’re served as a placeholder, something to keep your hands busy while you wait for anything better. Given even a modest intervention, sealed, spiced, and sent through hot oil, they snap out of their stupor. Apparently this is still too much to ask of restaurants sending out plain pods at exorbitant prices, but at least we have all the tools at our disposal to do better at home.

Continue reading “Stick To It” →

Hannah (BitterSweet)11 Comments

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.

Continue reading “Isaw It Coming” →

Hannah (BitterSweet)3 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.

Continue reading “Can I Prik Your Brain?” →

Hannah (BitterSweet)8 Comments

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.

Continue reading “Fiddle-Faddle Flädle” →

Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments