Cream Cheese of the Crop

Tofutti walked so that plant-based dairy as we know it could run. Heralding in a new era of soy alternatives before the word “tofu” even registered with American eaters, visionary David Mintz began his frozen dessert company back in 1981. Catering to the kosher community, Mintz was in the right place at the right time to ride the wave of veganism as awareness and interest skyrocketed.

Non-dairy ice cream pints begat ice cream sandwiches, the legendary Tofutti Cuties that captivated me from the earliest days of my own vegan ventures. Though the number of flavors have dwindled and few stores west of New York carry them anymore, Cuties are still alive and well today. Tofutti is therefore responsible for both the second and third product reviews posted on BitterSweet, the latter of which turned out to be their enduring legacy, beyond dessert: cream cheese.

A Lasting Legacy

Tofutti Better Than Cream Cheese has undergone a number of revisions since its introduction in the early 90s. At one point, a separate Non-Hydrogenated version was developed and sold alongside the original, eventually overtaking its predecessor as overall nutrition faced greater scrutiny. More recent innovations include whipped and flavored cream cheeses, though I’ve only seen these available for purchase online. The Plain Better Than Cream Cheese still stands tall in mainstream grocery stores across the country. Where other brands fail and vegan options flag, I can always count on finding a tub of the classic.

Review Revival, Twenty Years Later

Revisiting my initial review from twenty years ago, I couldn’t help but wonder if Tofutti cream cheese still measured up. Right out of the gate, differences started stacking up. It appears that the spread has gained a bit more fat, as we all tend to do as we age, to the tune of an additional 30 calories per serving. Unbothered by the addition, which merely makes it comparable to conventional dairy-based options, I plunged in, bread at the ready.

Unsavory Impact

Immediately, I’m hit with a discordant note, an off-flavor that doesn’t quite fit with the rest. No, this is not cream cheese, it reasserts with every bite, slowly stepping back as your taste buds adjust. For lack of a better description, it strikes me as brown, perhaps subtly beany and nutty, without the wholesome, organic connotations that should bring. There’s no tanginess to speak of, not even a hint of gentle sourness or acidity, which I would have expected from the genuine article. It’s also strikingly sweet; much sweeter than I remember.

Served straight-up, unadorned, it’s not quite pulling its weight as a savory schmear worthy of a proper Jewish delicatessen. Texturally, however, this spread is unassailable. Luscious, silky smooth, slightly slippery, and thick enough to pile on high, the mouthfeel alone makes it worth the price of entry.

Still Sweet On This Spread

Am I wrong for wanting more from this old-school brand, which ultimately prides itself in staying true to its roots? In fact, Tofutti was always my go-to recommendation, not for noshing straight, but for baking. Better Than Cream Cheese was at the heart of my award-winning cheesecake, every decadent swirl of cream cheese frosting, countless truffles, ice cream bases, and even cookies. That inherent sweetness makes it a seamless match for every dessert you can think of. Time and again, I’ll fill my cart with baking staples, Tofutti cream cheese riding in front.

Mixed Results

Ultimately, no, it’s not the same as it once was, though that’s not to say it should be left in the past. We are not the same as we were either, twenty years ago. It pains me to admit that it’s not my favorite across the board, despite all the good it’s done over the years. In desserts and sweet treats, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend the brand with genuine conviction. But, viewed holistically as a savory spread to top bagels, compared to the competition, Tofutti is no longer making a schmear that’s Better Than Cream Cheese.

Pour Choices

Though I may technically be an 80’s baby, I just barely made the cut, and by all accounts, I missed the best parts. I was still in diapers when big hair and even bigger shoulder pads were already going out of style; my memories begin not with neon excess or synth-soaked rebellion, but with their faded echoes. Through cultural osmosis, I gradually inherited the decade like a rumor, absorbing it secondhand through Reading Rainbow reruns and “oldies” radio stations. What I never got was a taste of the food, and more specifically, the school cafeteria fare.

Pourable Pizza, now the stuff of legends, never made it to my lunch tray. Served for a fleeting moment in time, the most cited recipe dates back to 1988. Though it sounds like genuine slop, the worst part is the name, since it’s simply composed of a liquid, no-knead dough that can be quickly and easily distributed between sheet pans and baked en masse. Topped with tomato sauce and copious amounts of cheese, the crust offered little resistance, both to tiny teeth and picky eaters. Was it the healthiest thing? No, but did we care in that era? Not really. You could claim it contained grains, vegetables, and dairy, which was good enough for the USDA.

Now, almost 40 years after that legacy was established and driven by anemoia, I’m inexorably drawn to such a foreign yet familiar concept. Surely, Pourable Pizza could never exist like this again, not in its original form, and still it lives on in the minds of many. Spurred on by cravings, boredom, and frugality, I decided to revise the concept for my fellow adult children.

My rendition is fiercely loyal to the title, adding a layer of pourable vegan cheese on top to seal the deal. Shredded mozzarella? Nah, we can do one better, leveraging the inherent richness of tahini and nutritional yeast to whip up a liquid topping for our liquid foundation. Now that I’m writing that out loud, is this the liquid lunch of our generation?

Whichever generation finds this and takes it in as their own, may it feed their memories with equal measures of comfort and curiosity. May it taste like recess you didn’t quite have, a past you only half remember, and a future that feels less rigid than the rules we grew up with. This isn’t an attempt to recreate history so much as to make peace with it, to ladle something soft and sustaining into the gaps where experience should have been. Even when the decade is borrowed, the memories aren’t quite your own, and the pizza is poured, the comfort is real, and that’s enough.

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Fear The Reaper

If you’ve ever looked at molten lava and thought, “dang, that looks tasty!” then the Carolina Reaper is the pepper for you. Specifically engineered over the course of 10 years to be hot enough to strip the paint off your car, these chilies are no joke. For all the hype and hyperbole, they are every bit as hot, if not hotter, than you would think. Ranging from 1.6 – 2.2 million Scoville Heat Units, they don’t just taste like fire, they taste like napalm. It’s a burn that you can’t escape, that engulfs you from the inside out. Even for someone that can’t get enough of spicy food, this would put them over their limit with just the tiniest bite.

Second Hottest Pepper on the Planet

For many years, the Carolina Reaper was officially certified as the world’s hottest chili pepper, only to be stripped of the title by Pepper X in 2023. Regardless, this gnarled, blood-red fruit is every bit as dangerous as before. They have, in fact, sent people to the hospital. Under no circumstances would I suggest actually taking a chop out of one, even in minute amounts. Agony is the mildest way to describe the sensation.

Who Hurt You?

Somehow, I came to find a handful of these delightful little warheads in my possession. I like spicy food just fine, but I also enjoy retaining use of all my senses, so I had a reasonable amount of fear when considering how to dispatch them. Your only options for using Carolina Reapers are either making hot sauce or pesticide. They’re not quite at the level of bear repellent spray, though I think you could still do some serious damage to a would-be attacker if you bottled the puree. At a certain point in the process, “hot sauce” started sounding (and feeling) like “hurt sauce,” as a more accurate descriptor.

Proceed with Caution

If I haven’t scared you off yet, keep in mind some safety precautions specific to this prep:

  • Use gloves when handling the peppers.
  • Wash your hands, even after wearing gloves.
  • DO NOT! TOUCH! YOUR FACE! (Or other sensitive areas, if you know what I mean.)
  • Open the windows while roasting the peppers.
  • Run the fans on the oven hood.
  • Let your pets outside.
  • Maybe you should stand outside, too. Just don’t go far and keep a timer on that oven.

Fire Power

Flavor is secondary to the fire power of this sauce. Use the tiniest amount if you want to taste the food underneath, starting at 1/4 teaspoon for an entire bowlful, if not potful, of chili, for example. Don’t worry, it will still deliver a searing burn at that dosage. This one is only for the insane spice fiends, always diluted in food, and by all means, not to be underestimated.

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Making the Most of Makulaya

Some seasonings get all the love. Who doesn’t have a bottle of chili powder somewhere in the kitchen? Salt and pepper are so ubiquitous, they don’t even count as ingredients in some recipes. Even something so amorphous as “Italian seasoning” is instantly understood. Then, we have makulaya. Not to be confused with the seeds of the makulaya tree, popular in African and Caribbean cuisines, the makulaya I’m talking about is the combination of herbs and spices that join forces as an instant meal starter for Ethiopian dishes. If not for Red Fox Spices, I would still be completely ignorant of this understated cornerstone of Ethiopian cooking.

What is Makulaya?

Makulaya is described as a sautéing blend, meaning that it’s best bloomed in a hot skillet at the beginning of the cooking process, just as you would temper spices when preparing Indian or Thai curries. That intense, direct heat releases the essential oils, unlocking its full flavorful potential. Warm and earthy, aromatic and grounding, it’s a more delicate, gentle flavor than Ethiopian dishes are typically known for. That’s also why it’s rarely seen solo, often paired off with fiery berbere for emphasis.

Nigella seeds and bishop’s weed make up the foundation of the mixture, explaining a good amount of the mystique for American cooks. Neither are easily accessible in mainstream grocery stores and few recipes shine a light that might help change that.

  • Nigella seeds could pass for black sesame seeds, visually, but the taste is a world apart. Slightly bitter with a gentle onion and herbal note, it carries a faint peppery warmth and a grassy, almost tea-like aroma that becomes nutty and smoky when toasted.
  • Bishop’s weed (ajwain) has an assertive, pungent flavor dominated by thymol, the same compound found in thyme and oregano. That gives it a sharp, savory, and warming finish, with a noticeable medicinal or camphor-like edge when used in greater quantities.

Rounding out the blend to make makulaya are cardamom, garlic, and ginger. Together, they bring floral sweetness, savory depth, and gentle heat that unify the mixture, designed to support stronger flavors rather than overpower them.

How is Makulaya Used?

Most commonly seen in recipes for misser wot and doro wot, additional suggestions are few and far between. It’s not for lack of versatility, but because makulaya remains largely unknown abroad, rarely explored beyond its traditional context. Such a shame to squander all that potential, confining it to only one or two uses! What’s more, it doesn’t need to be literally sautéed for maximum impact, opening up a wider range of high-heat preparations, like roasting, grilling, or dry toasting.

Think of makulaya as an aromatic base that can move far beyond stews:

  • Roasted vegetables: Toss root vegetables, cauliflower, squash, or carrots with oil and makulaya before roasting to build warm, savory depth.
  • Grilled proteins: Use it as part of a dry rub for tofu, tempeh, or seitan before grilling.
  • Lentils and beans: Toast it lightly, then add to lentils, chickpeas, or white beans for an earthy backbone without heat.
  • Rice and grains: Cook alongside your aromatics when making rice pilaf, risotto, farro, or barley to infuse the entire dish with aroma.
  • Sautéed greens and mushrooms: Add early in the pan for gentle warmth that complements bitter or earthy vegetables.
  • Compound butter or oil: Mix into softened vegan butter or warm oil as a base for vegetables, bread, or finishing grilled foods.

Sweet and Savory Candied Yams

Bringing it back home for a more concrete example, candied yams are a prime canvas for showcasing the compelling flavor of makulaya, where its warm, earthy aromatics deepen the natural sweetness of the potatoes without tipping the dish into dessert territory. Yes, I did say potatoes, if you can allow the momentary tangent; though the dish has been called “candied yams” since its inception, it rarely uses the tuber of its namesake. Sweet potatoes are softer and creamier, more widely available in America, and were often mislabeled as “yams” a century ago. To this day, we’re stuck with the title of the dish, despite the sweet potato base.

Makulaya fits in naturally here, adding layers of flavor that linger without overwhelming the palate. Tender, rich, festive, yet appropriate for all occasions, it belongs on more mundane menus too, not just the holiday table. Besides, with only a few minutes of prep work and half a dozen ingredients all told, there’s never been an easier way to try a new flavor sensation.

Make it with Makulaya

Makulaya may never become a household name in the US, but that’s precisely what makes cooking with it so rewarding. It asks very little of the cook while offering a depth of flavor that feels both grounding and transportive. Whether folded into a familiar dish or used as the first building block of something new, makulaya invites a broader way of thinking about spice: not as a finishing flourish, but as a foundation. Once you start reaching for it, the question quickly shifts from why try makulaya? to why not use it more often?

Continue reading “Making the Most of Makulaya” →

Fried Chicken Cold Case

While all signs point to a declining appetite for fast food hamburgers, fried chicken sandwiches are hot and ready to take up the slack. You’d think that simply slapping a bun around the standard staple would be a forgettable adaptation, but less than 80 years ago, it simply wasn’t done.

That historical oversight has now been corrected with a dizzying swiftness that borders on violence. Anyone can and will attempt to peddle their own version with widely varied results. I think we can all agree that no matter what, the best versions should be immaculately crisp, audaciously juicy, and boldly seasoned. Toppings should be minimal to allow that thick patty to shine.

Sink your teeth into the plush brioche bun, meeting just the slightest resistance from a toasted edge, before reaching the treasure within. Crisp, cool coleslaw contrasts against the star of the show at the center of the action, dressed in its finest golden-brown fried breading. Ketchup, both sharp and sweet, anchors the bite in comforting nostalgia. It’s all so satisfying, so familiar, and yet… Melting away, like a half-forgotten dream.

April Fools!

It would be tough to truly trick someone with this trompe l’œil ice cream sandwich, a dessert masquerading as lunch, though the best pranks are harmlessly on par, if you ask me. Inspired by “fried” ice cream which has never once gone near a vat of bubbling oil, it starts with a pint of vegan ice cream sliced into four perfect rounds. Crushed corn flake cereal is pressed into the surface to form a crunchy crust, then stashed in the freezer until ready to serve. Shredded green apples with a touch of lemon, maple syrup, and mint makeup the slaw, while the ketchup is merely thinned-out strawberry jam. The bun is still a toasted brioche bun, sweet enough to pass muster as a confection as is.

Is it excessive? Sure, and isn’t a proper fried chicken sandwich squarely over the line for everyday indulgence, too? For a crowd-pleasing shortcut, you could always just serve your chicken-fried ice cream over waffles with maple syrup. If you play your cards right, that could even be considered an acceptable breakfast, no fooling.