I can smell the narazuke fermentation room before I see it. The malty scent of vegetables mingling with bacteria is a signpost pointing toward the facility where Soshin Nishida and his family age pickled white melon. I inhale deeply, taking in the aromas, and Nishida beams. “It smells good, doesn’t it?”

Tourists flock to Nara to pose for selfies with the Japanese city’s famous free-roaming deer, but the historic prefecture is otherwise largely overlooked as a destination, eclipsed by Kyoto’s famed temples and Osaka’s glitz. Yet in the 8th century, Nara was Japan’s first permanent capital, among the easternmost stops on the ancient Silk Road, and a key entry point for edible imports. From tea drinking to persimmon cultivation, the city became a fountainhead of Japanese food culture.

Today, many of Japan’s culinary crafts are fading, replaced by machine-made shortcuts or abandoned entirely. Yet in Nara, where many of these skills have their earliest roots in the country, a handful of artisans are devoted to preserving these ancient techniques—and reimagining them for the future.

The Pickle Maker: Soshin Nishida

Brewing sake leaves behind a precious byproduct: sake lees, a white, paste-like residue with a mildly sweet and fruity taste. Not to be wasted, the ingredient is a base for countless foods in Japanese cuisine: amazake (a sweet fermented rice drink), marinades, and pickles, including a centuries-old Nara specialty, narazuke.

Soshin Nishida, who is part of the 11th generation in his family to produce the pickled white melon, often spends much of the day with his hands deep in tubs of narazuke. (He jokes that the peptide-rich sake lees, used as a cosmetic ingredient in Japan, is his secret to youthful-looking hands.) He shows me around his family-owned brand Ashibiyahonpo’s aging facility, explaining how they use sake lees and salt to season and preserve the melon, which turns savory as it ferments for at least three years, or up to five. The crunchy pickles are tangy and umami—an ideal accompaniment to porridge or sushi.

Before refrigeration, narazuke was a means of preservation. In 2018, to reimagine its potential, Nishida’s family opened the pizzeria Cervo Bianco, which offers a narazuke-topped four-cheese pizza and pickle-flavored gelato. “Narazuke can be more than just a pairing,” Nishida insists. “I don’t want future generations to forget its nutritional legacy.”

The Tea Cultivator: Junichi Uekubo

To roll his tea by hand, Junichi Uekubo spends up to eight hours a day hunched over a washi paper-lined table laden with leaves. A heater beneath the table helps dry the delicate greens, so he must keep them in constant motion, rapidly sliding his palms back and forth across the surface to prevent the tea from burning.

The resulting needles of temomicha, or hand-rolled tea, Uekubo says, are worth every bit of effort. Only a tiny fraction of the green tea produced in Japan is still hand-rolled, a process that breaks down the cells and releases the leaves’ fragrance and flavor. Uekubo’s tastes unlike any tea I’ve had before—savory, with undertones of dashi. “I use crab, herring, and oysters as fertilizer, to heighten that umami flavor,” he tells me.

As a child, Uekubo, a seventh-generation tea cultivator, was unsure whether he wanted to take over the family business, Tea Uekubo. But one whiff of its prized temomicha convinced him: “I’m the first one who gets to taste it,” he says. “That’s the best moment. I want to share those special emotions that tea can arouse.”

The Soybean Grower and The Miso Maker: Masahiro Kondo and Hiroyuki Katagami

Soybeans play a critical role in Japanese cuisine—in soy sauce, tofu, miso, and beyond—but more than 90 percent of them used in Japan are grown elsewhere. In recent decades, the nation’s soybean cultivation has been steadily declining, due to limited land, unfavorable weather, aging farmers, and the comparative reliability of imported North American-grown beans.

The O-deppo variety, once prominent in Nara, is now nearly extinct. When tofu maker and Nara native Masahiro Kondo heard that the breed once grew taller than the average soybean plant, with double the yield and a greater depth of flavor from its unusually high sucrose content, he decided to hunt down the heirloom seeds and revive the crop.

At first, Hiroyuki Katagami, owner of Katagami Shoyu, was one of the few local soy sauce makers willing to take a chance on the unfamiliar bean. But the resurrected legumes stood up to their long-forgotten reputation. I sample a taste of Katagami’s miso, and it is smooth and creamy, the ingredient’s characteristic salty, funky flavor punctuated by a distinct sweetness. “Soybeans used to be a pride of Nara,” says Kondo, who also uses the beans at his company Miki Tofu. “We’re slowly bringing back the concept of farm-to-table soybeans.”

The Persimmon Preserver: Kazuhiro Ishii

In Japan, if you throw away something that could still be useful, you might hear the term “mottainai.” Loosely translating to “what a waste,” it’s often uttered as a reminder to reuse and recycle.

“We are nature worshippers,” says Kazuhiro Ishii, the quiet and cerebral third-generation owner of Ishii Co., who attributes Japanese people’s deep respect for the environment to the country’s indigenous Shinto religion. That ethos of conservation was what motivated his grandfather, Isao Ishii, to develop the family brand’s first persimmon-based product in 1981. Scuffed or otherwise imperfect persimmons couldn’t be sold (“Japanese people are perfectionists,” Kazuhiro says), but they could be transformed into treats like hoshigaki (dried Hachiya persimmons) and kyoshu no kaki (dried Horenbo persimmons filled with sweet chestnut paste). The family created other products as well: a sweet-tart vinegar made from the fruit’s syrupy flesh, and a wheaty brewed tea and matcha-like powder from the dried leaves.

Persimmons, or kaki in Japanese, have been cultivated in Nara for centuries. There’s an ancient custom of writing a love note on a persimmon leaf, then releasing it into a body of water. One of the city’s famed delicacies is kakinoha-zushi, a pressed sushi made by wrapping marinated fish in the fruit’s leaves—when I unwrap one in a local shop, I feel like I’m opening a gift.

Today, Kazuhiro continues to research new ways to make the most of persimmons, like turning the skin into natural food coloring and the juice into sweetener. “I want to continue making farmers happy by buying their damaged fruit,” he tells me, “so we can keep passing on Nara’s kaki culture.”

The Soy Sauce Brewer: Osamu Yoshikawa

Balancing on a plank atop a six-foot-tall wooden barrel, sixth-generation soy sauce producer Osamu Yoshikawa churns a thick mixture of soybeans, wheat, koji mold, and saltwater. He invites me to give it a try, and I learn just how labor-intensive this job truly is. But Yoshikawa knows it’s worthwhile. The finished condiment will be full-bodied, complex, and a tad sweet: liquid umami.

Today, less than 1 percent of the soy sauce made in Japan is produced this way, aging from six months to three years in bamboo and cedar barrels called kioke. The liquid darkens and the flavor intensifies as the brew matures; microorganisms, flourishing in the wood’s crevices, create a distinct flavor exclusive to the maker. It can take two weeks to fashion a new kioke; Yoshikawa estimates only around 3,500 of the vessels still exist, most replaced by steel vats. But built with care, the barrels can last as long as 200 years; many of the ones at Inoue Honten, his bean-to-bottle soy sauce company, have been in continuous use for decades.

“Barrel-aging soy sauce is a fast-fading art,” says Yoshikawa, flanked by his two sons and daughter-in-law who will eventually take over the business. “But the taste of making it this way is unparalleled.” His younger son, Ryo Yoshikawa, grins broadly and flexes his biceps, as if to say, “We won’t let our father down.”

Recipes

Leftover Green Tea Leaf Salad

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Inarizushi (Rice-Filled Tofu Pockets)

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Miso Clam Chowder

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Amazake, Apple, and Pineapple Smoothie

Get the recipe >

The post Meet the Makers Preserving the Past in Nara appeared first on Saveur.

Around the world, the celebratory dishes atop Lunar New Year feast tables are as symbolic as they are sumptuous. Long noodles signify longevity, chewy rice balls stuffed with sugary paste represent sweetness, and whole fish foreshadows abundance in the year ahead. Though often called Chinese New Year for its connection to the Chinese lunisolar calendar, Lunar New Year is a lively, joy-filled celebration across much of Asia, including Korea, Vietnam, Singapore, Malaysia, and Indonesia. This year, ring in the Year of the Dragon with a spread of global dishes—from crackly chả giò and chewy tteokguk, to fluffy fa gao and flaky pineapple tarts—to usher in prosperity and good fortune in the year ahead.

Chả Giò (Fried Spring Rolls)

At just about any festive occasion in Vietnam, you can bet fried spring rolls will make an appearance on the feast table. Known regionally as chả giò or nem rán, the snack is best dipped into nước chấm, the sweet-sour Vietnamese condiment. Get the recipe >

Yu Sheng (Prosperity Toss Salad)

Break out those chopsticks for a generous platter of yu sheng, or yee sang, aka prosperity toss salad. Make the recipe chef Alex Au-Yeung serves at Phat Eatery in Katy, Texas, then gather friends and family around the table to mix the Malaysian and Singaporean staple together. The higher it’s tossed, the more blessings the new year will bring. (See Au-Yeung make the dish here.) Get the recipe >

Tteokguk (Korean Rice Cake Soup)

Cook thin oval-shaped tteok, or rice cakes, in a savory anchovy broth to make what Junghyun Park and Jungyoon Choi call “one of the most significant dishes in Korean tradition.” Eaten on the first day of the new year as a tribute to ancestors, the soothing soup showcases tteok at their toothsome best. Get the recipe >

Fried Sesame Balls with Sweet Red Bean Filling

Crispy sweet rice balls filled with red bean paste and rolled in sesame seeds are a mainstay at Chinese bakeries and dim-sum restaurants, but they’re particularly auspicious as a Lunar New Year treat—round foods symbolize not only the moon, but also family togetherness. Cookbook author Kristina Cho’s recipe delivers a satisfying bite that’s crisp and crackly on the outside, and tender and chewy on the inside. Get the recipe >

Chao Niangao (Stir-Fried Rice Cakes) 

In many cultures, rice cakes are symbolic of a prosperous new year, so all shapes and sizes show up at holiday gatherings. This enticing stir-fried version—a spin on a Shanghai classic—amps up the flavor with a dollop of doubanjiang, the Chinese fermented soybean paste. Get the recipe >

Lumpia (Fried Spring Rolls)

Crispy fried wrappers envelop a delectable pork filling in these Filipino spring rolls, a party favorite in the Philippines and among the diaspora. Chef Dale Talde serves his version with sawsawan, a vinegar-and-soy-sauce mixture laced with raw garlic and fiery chiles. Get the recipe >

Yuanxiao (Sweet Rice Balls with Nut and Sesame Seed Filling) 

Chewy dough encases a rich, earthy paste made from nuts and sesame seeds in this Chinese snack symbolizing family reunion. Families boil them to celebrate Yuanxiao Jie, also known as the Lantern Festival, which falls on the 15th day of the lunar month and marks the end of the two-week new-year festivities. Make this version from Buwei Yang Chao’s 1945 cookbook to enjoy while admiring the full moon. Get the recipe >

Fa Gao (Steamed Cupcakes)

Sometimes called prosperity cake, fa gao is a beloved Chinese Lunar New Year treat that’s extra pretty to boot. When steamed, the tops of the cakes blossom into a flower-like pattern. In this recipe from Kristina Cho, the cookbook author lets us in on her grandmother’s clever shortcut: Bisquick, which ensures perfectly split tops and a satisfyingly soft, fluffy texture. Get the recipe >

Pork and Chive Dumplings

Wrap, pleat, and boil a pot of dumplings—a symbol of wealth and prosperousness in China because of their resemblance to gold ingots—to invite good fortune in the year ahead. Pork and chives make a classic savory pairing, so fold a little extra to freeze and enjoy in the new year whenever a craving strikes. Get the recipe >

Taiwanese Beef Noodle Soup

Invite good health and longevity with steaming bowls of red-braised beef noodle soup enriched with soy sauce, ginger, and scallions. This recipe from a Taipei noodle shop calls for simmering the protein for a few hours, yielding fall-apart-tender meat. Get the recipe >

Fish Sauce-Pickled Radishes

For special occasions like the new year, Vietnamese families often pickle radishes in nước chấm rather than the usual brine. The flavorful liquid imparts a depth of flavor that cuts through the richness of opulent celebratory dishes. Get the recipe >

Pineapple Tarts

Food blogger Yi Jun Loh’s pineapple tart recipe transforms the tropical fruit into a spiced, marmalade-esque filling, then encases the jammy mixture in rich, buttery pastry. The two-bite delights—popular in Malaysia, Singapore, and Indonesia when the Lunar New Year rolls around—are perfect for hosting, gifting, and snacking. Get the recipe >

Thit Kho (Vietnamese Braised Pork Belly with Eggs)

This hearty dish of caramelized, melt-in-your-mouth pork belly gets its irresistible savoriness from fish sauce and Coco Rico, a mild, coconut-flavored soda from Puerto Rico that’s common in Vietnamese cooking. Get the recipe >

Whole Steamed Fish with Tangerine Peel and Fennel

Bright citrus and peppery fennel enliven flaky steamed fish in this elegant banquet-table centerpiece. Follow Chinese tradition and save some leftovers for the following day as a symbol of bringing surplus into the new year. Get the recipe >

Japchae (Stir-Fried Glass Noodles)

Toss slippery sweet potato noodles with soy sauce, crunchy veg, and tender, juicy beef to make this crowd-pleasing Korean party dish. At any celebration of Seollal (as Lunar New Year is called in Korea), a heaping bowl is bound to be on the table. Get the recipe >

Chinese Lion’s Head Meatballs

Named for their impressive size, these juicy Chinese meatballs make a show-stopping addition to any festive feast. The trick to achieving their signature tender, bouncy texture? Stirring the pork mixture for at least five minutes, to thoroughly distribute fat and flavor. Get the recipe >

Spicy Beef Potstickers

Enhance ground beef with chili oil for a spicy take on a Lunar New Year classic. These pan-fried dumplings are a beaut: a flour-vinegar slurry added near the end of the frying process creates a beautifully crispy “skirt” that holds the potstickers together. Get the recipe >

Whole Grilled Fish with Vietnamese Peanut Pesto

For a whole-fish presentation with rich, nutty flavor and smoky flair, try this grilled, Vietnamese-inspired version from Houston chef Chris Shepherd. The peanut pesto smearing the fish hits all the flavor notes: umami from the fish sauce, caramelly sweetness from the brown sugar, and brightness from the lime juice. Get the recipe >

Tian Tian Chao Mian (Chinese Everyday Fried Noodles)

This stir-fried recipe calls for layering ingredients like dark soy sauce and sugar to concoct a concentrated, salty-sweet sauce that clings beautifully to noodles. Fresh mix-ins like cucumber and carrot add cheery color and satisfying crunch. Get the recipe >

Hong Shao Rou (Chinese Red-Braised Pork Belly with Eggs)

Red-braised pork belly is homestyle Chinese comfort food, with two types of soy sauce and a touch of sugar giving the beloved dish its signature glossiness and deep red-brown hue. In this version from cookbook author Fuchsia Dunlop, boiled eggs make the ideal vehicle for soaking up the savory sauce. Get the recipe >

Beef Rendang

A stick-to-your-ribs Indonesian staple, this succulent number calls for slowly simmering beef in a rich coconutty sauce seasoned with aromatic lemongrass and makrut lime leaves. Serve it alongside steamed white rice to absorb the velvety gravy. Get the recipe >

Bò Kho (Vietnamese-Style Beef Stew with Lemongrass, Ginger, and Garlic)

Tender short ribs and collagen-rich oxtail form the bedrock of this beefy, herbaceous Vietnamese stew. Fistfuls of cilantro and Thai basil enhance the dish with grassy aroma and brightness, while red onions and scallions add a peppery punch. Get the recipe >

Galbi Jjim (Braised Short Ribs)

Sohui Kim, chef of Brooklyn restaurant Gage & Tollner, weaves a thread of French technique into her Korean galbi jjim recipe: she incorporates both red wine and soy sauce into the braise for extra depth of flavor and East-meets-West oomph. Get the recipe >

Braised Winter Squash with Fermented Black Beans

Any feast full of rich fare needs some lighter options in the lineup for balance—like this flavorful, winter-friendly option from cookbook author Hannah Che. Her recipe utilizes the Chinese smother-braising technique—similar to red-braising—to soften squash to a luxuriously buttery texture. Get the recipe >

Stir-Fried Choy Sum with Garlic Sauce

It takes just five minutes to turn choy sum (or any other leafy green, like baby bok choy) into a garlicky, show-stealing side. Slightly bitter vegetables beautifully counterbalance any heartier dishes that might be on your banquet table. Get the recipe >

Nian Gao (Chinese Sticky Rice Cake) 

Steamed sweet rice dough flavored with brown sugar and almond extract makes a luck-filled Chinese Lunar New Year treat (nian gao is a homophone for “higher every year”). A sprinkling of toasted sesame seeds and an optional smattering of red dates elevates the treat to show-stopper territory. Get the recipe >

Sliced Pork Belly with Garlic Sauce

Dress tender poached pork belly with garlic, chili oil, and Taiwanese soy paste for a delicately salty-sweet dish straight from the island’s vibrant beer halls. Get the recipe >

Chinese Salt-Baked Chicken with Congee and Pickled Mustard Greens

A whole chicken represents prosperity, so make this oven-baked Hainan-style version that calls for coating a bird generously in salt—resulting in even cooking and extra-moist meat. Get the recipe >

Lo Bak Go (Pan-Fried Turnip Cake)

Rice flour and grated daikon studded with lap cheong sausages are a perennially popular dim-sum order, and they make a welcome addition to any holiday feast. Serve the crisp-on-the-outside, soft-on-the-inside snack with spicy hoisin sauce for a fiery kick. Get the recipe >

The post Our Best Lunar New Year Recipes for an Auspicious Feast appeared first on Saveur.

For years, Jing Gao dreamed of opening a grab-and-go market that serves prepared meals she would actually crave. Not hard-boiled eggs and cold sandwiches, but creamy sesame noodles, fiery mapo tofu, and crunchy wood-ear mushroom salad that channel the peppery, piquant flavors of her native Chengdu, capital of China’s Sichuan Province. Today, that vision no longer lives in her head, but on a high-trafficked shopping street in the heart of Los Angeles.

After dabbling in the fast-casual arena with her now-closed restaurant Baoism in Shanghai, Gao left food service and went on to launch a chili-crisp empire with Fly By Jing, her fast-growing direct-to-consumer brand of made-in-Sichuan sauces. She wasn’t eager to re-enter the hospitality realm, unless the right partner came along. Enter Stephanie Liu Hjelmeseth, a lifestyle blogger whose family previously owned the beloved Orange County restaurant Chong Qing Mei Wei. Both Gao and Liu grew up eating Sichuan dishes, and they both liked the casual convenience and accessibility of the grab-and-go framework, implemented profitably by brands like Pret a Manger. “How great would it be to apply modern Chinese flavors to that model?” Gao recalls thinking.

Suá Superette, which debuted last November, does just that by packaging familiar Sichuan flavors into conveniently portable meals, often yielding surprising combinations. At the new market, lazi ji, a fried-chicken specialty of Chongqing, has evolved into crispy tenders dipped in a spicy vinaigrette; cumin-scented beef is swaddled in a wrap for on-the-go enjoyment; zingy mala seasoning jazzes up fried lotus-root chips. “We wanted to combine the Sichuan flavors that we love with the context that we live in,” says Gao of meeting her customers—active, on-the-move Angelenos—where they are. Positioned as a one-stop shop, the brick-and-mortar also stocks a selection of Asian-inflected pantry staples like condiments from Cabi Foods, flower teas from The Qi, and instant packs of plant-based Immi Ramen. By demonstrating how Asian food can fit seamlessly into their clientele’s lives, the two entrepreneurs convey that the flavors of their heritage “are adaptable and versatile, and can be applied to so many canvases,” says Gao. (The message echoes that of Gao’s recent cookbook, The Book of Sichuan Chili Crisp, which shares both traditional and newfangled ways to use the region’s signature flavor profiles.)

Call them superettes, mini-marts, or corner stores: small independent grocers that acknowledge and speak to today’s Asian American (particularly East and Southeast Asian) experience are popping up around the country. These modern businesses are smaller, sleeker, and more specialized than their big-box chain counterparts like 99 Ranch, H-Mart, or Seafood City, and place a notable emphasis on craft, curation, and customer experience. And often, they’re founded by millennials who want to bring visibility to their communities, and bridge customers to those cultures through food.

At the Taiwanese market Yun Hai, which opened its Brooklyn brick-and-mortar in 2022, Tatung rice cookers and Kuai Kuai corn crisps sit alongside artisanal seasonings, condiments, and ceramics sourced directly from brewers, farmers, and craftspeople in Taiwan. Taiwanese-style terrazzo tiles line the floor, while wood paneling and warm colors evoke the feel of a traditional bodega one might find on the island. “We want you to feel like you’re transported to a different place,” says Yun Hai co-owner Lillian Lin. “There are people who don’t know what Taiwan is, and we want to change that. But also, there are people who are familiar with Taiwan and don’t have a way to access that culture. ‘My grandma used to cook this, but I don’t know where to get it.’ Or they might not speak Mandarin.” Yun Hai provides bilingual labels as part of their effort to guide shoppers of all backgrounds.

When first-generation immigrants in the U.S. opened some of the country’s earliest Asian supermarkets in the late-20th century, “they needed to make a living, and were trying to do something for their community,” says Vietnamese American author and cooking teacher Andrea Nguyen. Not only were those stores a lifeline for many immigrants, they also paved the way for greater availability and acceptance of Asian ingredients in the country. “Foods often have strong emotional and nostalgic ties,” explains Jane Matsumoto, director of culinary arts at the Japanese American Cultural & Community Center, which recently opened a mini-shop of its own called MISE. “Access to familiar foods facilitates social integration and helps create a sense of home and belonging in a new environment.” Like many Chinese Americans who grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, I remember trailing my parents around Lion Market, a gateway to our heritage because it carried a seemingly comprehensive array of Chinese products—with affordable pricing to boot, though often without clear English translations—that Safeway and Albertsons didn’t: Chinkiang black vinegar, Sichuan peppercorns, precisely fileted cuts of meat for hot pot, and beyond. 

One might consider Suá Superette and Yun Hai the descendants of those supermarkets, Nguyen observes. Building upon the foundation of cultural awareness and accessibility that big-box grocers fostered, modern mini-marts and bodegas represent the next generation of Asian ingredient purveyance in the U.S. More than an avenue for mere survival and support, these newer shops are outlets for owners to celebrate their heritage through carefully chosen products that not only tell the story of a community, but also uplift small makers from those backgrounds.

While Suá and Yun Hai respectively champion the flavors of Sichuan and Taiwanese cuisine, Yoboseyo! Superette, a micro-grocer and café in Los Angeles’ Little Tokyo, shines its spotlight on small-batch specialty goods from across the Asian American spectrum, with an emphasis on Korean-inspired products created by Korean American entrepreneurs. While waiting for a honey oat latte, on-the-go commuters and busy professionals can pick up gochujang-flavored party mixes from Chingoo Snacks, quinoa-based kimbap from GANCHIC, spiced nuts from Mommylas, and even dog treats from Little Ganshik. “The industry makes it so hard to get your product out there, to get it on the shelves,” says the mini-market’s co-owner Cindy Choi, who opened the shop in 2022 to “be a launchpad for them.” 

Not far away in the city’s historic Chinatown, Sesame LA concentrates on pantry essentials and gourmet treats from small AAPI-owned brands with aesthetically crafted, giftable packaging. Chinese-inspired black sesame butter from Rooted Fare, seaweed snacks from Korean-owned brand Geem, and Vietnamese coffee blends from Little Green Cyclo “pay homage to their cultures by taking [something] classic and making it new, fun, and eye-catching,” says owner Linda Sivrican, who opened the shop in 2021, naming it after an ingredient she felt signified the common threads many Asian cultures share. “I spent a lot of my childhood visiting Chinatown every week with my parents,” she adds. “It was very nostalgic for me to come back and have this little space, 30 years later.” 

Both Choi and Sivrican chose to open their superettes in enclaves that have historically been havens for Asian communities. “In Little Tokyo, when you walk down the street, you see so many legacy businesses that have been there for 20, 30 years that are closing,” says Choi, pointing out that gentrification, rising real estate costs, and other challenges are displacing longtime establishments like Shabu-Shabu House and Suehiro Cafe. After Chinatown lost its last full-service Asian grocery store with the 2022 closure of Ai Hoa, Sivrican stocked fresh produce for a period of time so that local Asian growers could sell their harvests. By launching Sesame LA and Yoboseyo! in Chinatown and Little Tokyo (one of only three Japantowns left in the U.S.) respectively, the founders are waving a flag for the legacy of these communities as Asian hubs, while attracting a more diverse customer base to reinvigorate the neighborhoods. “There’s a palpable sense of pride in these spaces,” remarks Los Angeles native and chef Tara Monsod, who helms the Filipino-inspired San Diego steakhouse ANIMAE. “Showcasing Asian culture becomes a unifying, connecting force.”

It’s clear community pride is a driving force behind the growing availability of artisanal Asian products—and the more tailored inventory at the shops that stock them. This new wave could help not only establish a premium for Asian foods, but also evolve how they are perceived. “One of the biggest barriers facing Chinese cuisine was this hierarchy of tastes—the fact that it’s on the bottom rungs of that ladder of value that we ascribe to cuisines and different cultures, and their people,” Gao points out. Thoughtfully designed and aesthetically pleasing high-quality goods—with appropriate pricing to match—from what Gao calls “a rising tide of Asian-owned brands” are pushing back against the connotations of cheapness often associated with Asian food. “We are not a monolith, and we aren’t just mass-produced cheap products,” emphasizes Ji Hye Kim, the chef behind the restaurant Miss Kim in Ann Arbor, Michigan. “We are also local and crafted with care.” As disruptive entrepreneurs and discerning customers alike assign greater economic value to foods that spring from and represent their heritage, they’re sending a message: “We need to pay fairly for the labor, the ingredients, and the creativity that go into producing this food,” says Nguyen. 

Suá Superette is, notably, not located in a particularly affordable L.A. neighborhood, nor one historically associated with Asian immigrants. Gao and Hjelmeseth decided to unveil their new venture in the walkable, boutique-lined Larchmont Village “to invite more people into the fold—because Asian flavors shouldn’t be relegated only to Chinatowns or 99 Ranches,” says Gao. Grab-and-go fare made with locally sourced ingredients echoes the priorities of busy, progressive urbanites, regardless of their heritage. “We’re seeing [Asian food] become part of cross-cultural intersectional living,” Nguyen tells me. “It’s not something that’s exotic that needs to be saved for a weekend trip. It can be everyday food as long as you love it, and anybody can love it.”

Interest in Asian cuisines is on the rise, as immigration, culinary television shows, social media, and tourism increasingly open portals to the continent’s foodways. “Whenever you go to a new country, food is always going to be the first gateway into that culture,” notes Arnold Byun, who co-founded MAUM Market, a pop-up showcasing food and crafts from Asian makers. “You might have a conversation about where the food came from, how it got there, what the country is known for. It just opens up so many conversations.”  

A compact store can be a more approachable entry point to having those conversations than a sprawling supermarket. For starters, “the smaller selection eliminates some of the overwhelm and decision paralysis you might feel in a big grocer,” notes food blogger and cookbook author Maggie Zhu. Moreover, attentive guidance from a trusted storekeeper can help customers navigate the nuances of cooking a cuisine that’s new to them. Fort Worth, Texas-based high-school culinary instructor Hao Tran streamlines the shopping experience at her mini-marketplace, Hao’s Grocery & Cafe, by assembling ready-to-cook kits—Maesri curry paste and locally grown vegetables for a cozy Thai green curry, or basmati rice and a medley of spices for a Southeast Indian biryani—that forge a bridge to different cuisines. “There are just very few Asian restaurants,” says Tran of the Fort Worth area. “It’s ingrained in me that the community I live in is short of these food experiences.” To fill in those gaps, she’s approached local farmers and asked them for help growing ingredients like daikon, Napa cabbage, and bittermelon. The benefit of a small, intimate store, she explains, is that she can actively engage with shoppers and teach them how to use these ingredients if they’re unfamiliar. “For customers, it’s not as intimidating if you know you can ask, ‘what do I do with this?’ or ‘how do I do this?’” notes Tran, who often fields follow-up queries from patrons over the phone. “That personal connection is more important than ever.”

Though superettes are a fast-growing sector, they’re only part of a larger, ever-expanding network of Asian ingredient supply and distribution in the U.S. Online retailers like Sarap Now, Weee!, and Umamicart are further broadening the reach of Asian flavors by bringing them to people’s doorsteps. Mass-market grocers like Nijiya Market, Mitsuwa Marketplace, and H-Mart continue to expand. As demand for the continent’s ingredients rises, and as supply-chain advances reduce barriers to importing from overseas artisans, says Matsumoto, the availability and footprint of Asian food products in the U.S. will only continue to grow. The more diverse the shopping avenues, the better, she adds. Big-box retailers, with their cooking appliances, live seafood, and wide selection of fresh produce and meat, “cater to a broader customer base with diverse needs,” Matsumoto notes. On the other hand, “niche markets can excel in providing a deeply immersive experience that highlights the cultural nuances of specific Asian regions.”

Where curated mini-marts arguably excel most is how they unapologetically magnify the nuanced, culturally blended Asian American experience of today, which is characterized by both Asian tradition and American lifestyle. Recalling his childhood, Byun says that he “didn’t know if I was Korean enough, or if I was American enough.” Most of these new superettes were dreamed up by first- and second-generation Asian Americans who felt similarly: they wanted to see themselves represented, their tastes catered to, and their flavors amplified.

“These stores are neither this nor that,” he says. “They celebrate the in-between.”

Recipes

Lazi Chicken Wings

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Strange-Flavor Mixed Nuts

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Smashed Cucumber Salad with Yuba

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The post A New Kind of Asian Grocer Has Arrived appeared first on Saveur.

Christmas songs tell us that the morning of December 25th is the absolute peak of the winter holiday season. Families rock around the tree while tiny tots open presents with their eyes all aglow. But truth be told, I think what comes after the early-morning rowdiness is more special: gathering around a table with loved ones to share a mouthwatering feast. It’s the denouement, if you will, that follows the climax—the moment the energy and anticipation surrounding the season gives way to a comfortable, more relaxed pace.

Holidays call for something extra special, yet also simple enough so as not to pull you away from the revelry. Keep the prep work to a minimum by using up Christmas Eve leftovers in a savory one-pan hash. Or, make eggs the star of the show with an easy and elegant quiche, or a hearty shakshuka. For a sweeter option, treat loved ones to a croissant bread pudding or pecan-chocolate sticky buns that double as desserts. As SAVEUR’s resident breakfast correspondent, I’ve rounded up some festive recipes that not only fuel the day’s activities, but also evoke the spirit of the season.

Custardy French Toast

Grilled on the stovetop and finished in the oven, this take on French toast is more like a decadent souffle—as crisp on the outside as it is pillowy on the inside. Get the recipe >

Orange Butter Coffee Cake

The only thing that can improve upon a winter’s-morning cup of coffee is a slice of coffee cake to go with it. This version, smothered in a tangy orange glaze and chopped pecans, is an especially sunny, craveable take. Get the recipe >

Kaiserschmarrn (Austrian Scrambled Pancakes)

A coffeehouse staple in Vienna, this dish of torn-up pancake is all fluffiness and no fuss—which makes it the perfect choice for a busy holiday morning. Add a berry compote and a dusting of powdered sugar for a downright festive presentation. Get the recipe >

Rice Pudding with Raspberry Coulis

Lighter than most rice puddings, and not quite as sweet, this Swedish specialty is a Christmastime tradition. Short-grain rice, such as arborio, lends itself beautifully to a deliciously creamy consistency—and a comforting, satisfying breakfast. Get the recipe >

Spinach, Beef, and Egg Hash

On a busy holiday morning, you need a recipe that comes together swiftly. This savory one-pan dish might only call for a handful of ingredients, but it’s guaranteed to be the star of the table. In place of the beef chuck, try tossing in any breakfast meats you might have hanging around in the fridge. Get the recipe >

Country Ham & Red Eye Gravy Danish

Brew a little extra coffee on Christmas morning (or use up any left over from the night before) to make a classic Southern gravy for these glorious savory pastries studded with ham and pecorino. Get the recipe >

Shakshuka

This simple dish of poached eggs and tomatoes spiked with spices and aromatics may be a brunch classic, but it also makes a gorgeous and filling main course any time of day. Get the recipe >

Roasted Apples and Bacon with Onions and Thyme

This classic Danish treatment proves apples belong as much in the savory realm as the sweet. Roast them with onions, caramelize them in bacon fat, and serve them under thick steaks of smoked belly bacon for a brunch dish that hits all the flavor notes. Get the recipe >

Sourdough Whole Wheat Waffles

Have sourdough starter left over from holiday baking sitting in your fridge? Mix some of it into classic waffle batter to give it airiness and tang that non-yeasted versions simply can’t match. Get the recipe >

Blueberry Quinoa Pancakes with Lemon Crema

Granola and quinoa lend lovely crunch and earthy flavor to these substantial, fluffy pancakes. The zesty lemon crema dolloped on top will brighten up any cold winter morning. Get the recipe >

Swedish Cinnamon-and-Cardamom Bread

In Swedish, fika means “to have coffee,” but it also refers to the country’s tradition of taking a break, chatting with friends, and enjoying a pastry, like this yeasty spiced bread from cookbook authors Anna Brones and Johanna Kindvall. It’s just the thing to munch while sipping a mug of joe on Christmas morning.  Get the recipe >

Baked French Toast with Cream and Eggs

This savory French toast is deceptively simple (and scalable), yet lavish enough for a festive occasion. As the dish bakes, the cream soaks into the bread and thickens into a rich sauce right on the platter, resulting in an impressive breakfast you’ll make again and again. Get the recipe >

Danish Rye Bread Porridge (Øllebrød)

Got some stale rye bread (preferably rich, nutty rugbrød) on hand? Soak cubes of your leftover loaf in a dark, malty beer on Christmas Eve, and you’ll be ready to make this tangy, earthy  breakfast treat the next morning. Get the recipe >

Espresso Waffles with Mocha Drizzle

Espresso powder and almond flour give a bittersweet edge to these waffles, which are glossed with a decadent sauce of coffee, condensed milk, and dark chocolate. Get the recipe >

Baked Egg Danish with Kimchi and Bacon

These savory Danishes swaddle kimchi, bacon, and baked eggs in rich, chewy laminated dough. If you have leftover ingredients from Christmas Eve hosting—think cooked mushrooms and greens, or grated cheese and herbs—go ahead and swap those in. (For the best texture, be sure to drain the extra liquid from cooked vegetables before adding.) Get the recipe >

Eggplant and Walnut Frittata (Badimjan Kükü)

This hearty Azeri egg dish—which can be served in small pieces as an appetizer or side or cut into larger wedges as a main—is loaded with ground walnuts, onions, and eggplant, giving the meal a nutty, meaty consistency. Get the recipe >

Pecan-Chocolate Sticky Buns

Baker and cookbook author Bryan Ford cooks these over-the-top sticky buns in a large cast-iron skillet—which not only makes for a rustic presentation but also guarantees gorgeously golden-brown edges. Get the recipe >

Gluten-Free Ham and Cheddar Scones

The sugar in these buttery, wheat-free scones offsets the smoky ham, cheddar cheese, and fresh chives, yielding the perfect example of how sweet and savory can go hand in hand. Get the recipe >

Perfect Blue Cheese Quiche With Whole Grain Crust

The blue cheese in this velvety quiche makes the dish satisfyingly creamy—balanced perfectly by a nutty, buttery spelt-and-whole-wheat crust. Get the recipe >

Grilled Banana-Pear Pancake

Francis Mallmann’s thick, fluffy flapjacks, topped generously with cool crème fraîche, creatively use grilled bananas as a pancake ring. The caramelized pear pressed into the batter as it’s cooking makes for a sweet surprise. Get the recipe >

Croissant Bread Pudding with Bourbon Sauce

Got a bunch of viennoiseries to finish before they go stale? This extravagant, boozy bread pudding makes the most of past-its-prime pastries by turning them into a decadent and boozy breakfast. Get the recipe >

Blackberry-Mint Scones

Agatha Kulaga and Erin Patinkin, of Ovenly bakery, call for frozen berries in their blackberry-mint scones, so you can make them even when berries aren’t in season—ideal for Christmas breakfast when fresh is harder to come by. Get the recipe >

The post 22 Joyful and Triumphant Breakfast Recipes for Christmas Morning appeared first on Saveur.

Rise & Dine is a SAVEUR column by Senior Editor Megan Zhang, an aspiring early riser who seeks to explore the culture of mornings and rituals of breakfast around the world.

Israel Rivera tasted his first New Mexico chile pepper when he was a high school freshman growing up in Albuquerque. He thought he knew chiles—his Mexican parents made all kinds of salsas at home—but the ones wrapped inside this five-dollar strip-mall breakfast burrito were different. Roasted, earthy, and a tad sweet, these green chiles had a depth of flavor unlike anything his 14-year-old self had ever experienced. “From then on, it was green chile on everything all the time,” he recalls. “To say it was life-changing sounds kind of dramatic, but it was.”

People in New Mexico have been rolling breakfast burritos for decades—at least since the 1970s, when it’s believed Santa Fe restaurant Tia Sophia’s first coined the term on its menu. Every eatery makes the dish a little differently, but certain ingredients, like a flour tortilla and fluffy scrambled eggs, are standard. Potatoes might be shredded or cubed. Cheese is often cheddar or a cheddar-Jack blend, but some cooks swap in cotija or queso fresco. Bacon is typical, though meats like sausage and carne adovada (pork stewed with chiles) are also popular. But the absolute non-negotiable—without which a burrito can’t be considered New Mexican, says Rivera, who now serves the item at his Albuquerque restaurant The Shop Breakfast & Lunch—is New Mexico chiles, roasted to charred perfection.

Skinny, long, and a little wrinkly, the state’s chiles are a prized cornerstone of the New Mexican kitchen. “Pueblo Native Americans are at the heart of the story of these chiles,” says Santa Fe-based chef and food columnist Marianne Sundquist, explaining that Indigenous communities have been cultivating peppers in the Southwest for centuries. The ingredient thrives in New Mexico, where the crop has adapted to the arid Southwest environment’s abundant sunshine and cool nights, explains Danise Coon, a senior research specialist at New Mexico State University’s Agricultural Experiment Station. In the early 1900s, university horticulturist Fabián Garciá pioneered a new hybrid cultivar with milder heat, improved resistance to disease and drought, and skins that were easier to peel when roasted. Dubbed the “New Mexico No. 9,” it was a commercial success, embedding the hybrid into the state’s culture—and into its burritos.

Compared to most spicy peppers, New Mexican chiles are bigger and fleshier, so they stand up well to roasting—which is the fate that awaits the majority of the crop. When harvest season rolls around, usually in late August or September, the air across the state is thick with the sweet, smoky smell of roasting chiles. “I always joke that if someone were to bottle that scent into a perfume, I would wear it every day,” Sundquist says with a laugh. The cooking process not only intensifies the acidity and heat of the peppers, but it also gives them a nutty quality and mildly bitter edge. “We find roasted green chiles necessary in most of our foods,” Rivera notes. New Mexicans purée them into soups, smother enchiladas with them, tuck them into burgers, and fry them into chiles rellenos. “It’s our way of adding umaminess to any dish,” he tells me. “We’re just so in love with that flavor.” 

This devotion to New Mexico chiles, coupled with their short harvest window, means locals are willing to go to great lengths to stock up. Just ask Eric See, the New Mexico native behind the Brooklyn breakfast-burrito joint Ursula. As farmers pluck the year’s first crop, See flies into Albuquerque, rents a minivan, and drives down to the family farm Homegrown Market in Deming with his dad to load up the car with chiles. Then, he leans on the accelerator the whole drive back to Brooklyn, blasting the AC to keep each bushel as cold and fresh as possible.

During harvest season, people selling peppers—whether on farms, in grocery stores, or from burlap bags on the side of the road—often roast them for buyers at the source. “My mom would go to the farms and bring back giant trash bags full of roasted chiles,” See recalls. But now that he’s rolling burritos all the way out in Brooklyn, he opts to do the job himself once a year, to immerse his customers in what he calls a “transportive culinary and cultural experience.” This means setting up metal barrel roasters and propane tanks that need to be supervised constantly and rotated by hand. The end result, he insists, is worth all the extra effort: “One bite, and it’s like I’m back home.” 

After all, it’s New Mexico that gives the famous chiles their unique flavor. There’s even a law, the New Mexico Chile Advertising Act, that forbids labeling or selling products as New Mexico chiles unless they were grown in the state—a move that Coon says “protects the identity and preserves the uniqueness” of the chiles. “Plant the seeds anywhere else, and they won’t have the same climate or environment, so they’re going to taste different,” adds Lois Ellen Frank, a New Mexico-based culinary anthropologist and author of the cookbook Seed to Plate, Soil to Sky. Even within the state, different regions have varying elevations and soil compositions, which lead to divergence in flavor. “It’s similar to the way we think about terroir for grapes,” adds See, noting that many would consider Hatch—a village in southern New Mexico that’s become synonymous with the peppers grown there—to be “the Napa of chiles.” 

Growing up in California, I devoured many breakfast burritos, not realizing that New Mexico’s were something else entirely. Several years ago, while passing through Albuquerque on a road trip, I ordered one at the restaurant Papa Frank’s and received the question, “Red or green?” Seeing my blank stare, the server explained that they could smother my burrito in either red or green chile sauce (the query is the official state question). The two types, I learned later, are in fact made from the same chile: “Green is the immature fruit, and it turns red when it’s left to ripen on the vine,” Frank explains. Green has more tart, citrusy notes, she adds, while red has earthy, even chocolatey, cherry-like undertones. There’s also a third answer to the state question: “Christmas style,” a best-of-both-worlds burrito half-drenched in green, half in red.

To Rivera, New Mexico’s iconic breakfast burrito embodies the unique culture of the state. Flour arrived with the Spanish, he points out, while tortillas and chiles have roots in Native American and Mexican cooking, both of which have deeply shaped the Land of Enchantment’s food traditions.

“Yeah, it’s just a burrito,” says Rivera. “But when you break it down into its parts, it’s this beautiful coming together of all the things that make us so special here.”

Recipe

New Mexico Breakfast Burrito

Get the recipe >

The post In New Mexico, You Can’t Have a Breakfast Burrito Without This Star Ingredient appeared first on Saveur.

Corn. Beans. Squash. Chiles. Tomatoes. Potatoes. Cacao. Vanilla.

These ingredients came up so often and consistently when food historian and chef Lois Ellen Frank was researching Native foods for her Ph.D in cultural anthropology that she started calling them “the magic eight.”

Indigenous people in the Americas have been cultivating and nurturing a kinship with these plants for millennia, and they eventually became pillar foods in cuisines all over the world—not to mention essential ingredients on Thanksgiving tables across the U.S. Yet, historically, European settlers have often received the credit for “discovering” them. When Frank set out to write her new cookbook Seed to Plate, Soil to Sky: Modern Plant-Based Recipes Using Native American Ingredients, it made perfect sense that these eight foods should be the backbone of the book.

Drawing inspiration from Native cooking traditions in the Southwest, Frank worked with her friend and business partner Walter Whitewater, a Diné chef who hails from the Navajo Reservation in Pinon, Arizona, to develop more than 100 entirely plant-based recipes starring these eight ingredients. (The two also co-own the Santa Fe, New Mexico-based Red Mesa Cuisine, a catering company focused on revitalizing ancestral Native American food traditions.) Their pragmatic approach in the kitchen encourages home cooks to embrace simple techniques that celebrate and respect ingredients in their natural states. 

“The foods and plants celebrated in this book were not only important in the past but are crucial to the future,” writes Frank in her introduction. Some dishes, like nixtamalized corn, have been passed down over thousands of years, while others, such as blue corn pasta and cherry tomato tart, reimagine Native ingredients for modern eaters. Together, the recipes paint a compelling picture of the cultural, nutritional, and medicinal value of these eight core ingredients yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

Below, in a conversation that has been condensed and edited, Frank and Whitewater discuss decolonizing Indigenous ingredients, minimizing waste in the kitchen, and changing our expectations around produce. 

How did you choose the eight ingredients highlighted in your book?

Lois Ellen Frank: These foods didn’t exist anywhere outside of the Americas until after 1492. These are eight dominant foods that changed cuisines all over. The tomato changed Italian cuisine, and the potato changed Irish cuisine. Britain has fish and chips now; before, they didn’t have chips. Asian food is full of chiles now. Places that we think of for delectable desserts and chocolate like France, Switzerland, and Belgium didn’t have vanilla or chocolate. These foods really are a true gift to the world from Native people. And yes, there are other foods that are Indigenous to the Americas; they’re just not as dominant on a global level. 

In the book, you mention that cooking with plants and making them taste delicious can be harder to do than with meat. Why did you decide to make the book plant-based?

LEF: More and more doctors are promoting a plant-forward diet, and we’ve found that people do want to eat plants—often, they just don’t know how to. If you go to a grocery store and look at dinosaur kale, or cabbage, or chard, but you don’t know how to cook them, you’re probably not going to make a dish. The impetus for making the book entirely plant-based was to broaden people’s repertoire and horizon. Plants are really, really healthy—not to mention, they have less of a carbon footprint than meat.

You write about following a “Nativeore diet” built around the Indigenous foods your ancestors cultivated and ate in the past. How would you describe the role plants play in a Nativeore diet?

LEF: Our ancestors ate wild game meat if it was available. They were hunters, but sometimes they might get just one deer that had to feed a few dozen people, and they couldn’t know if the next hunt would be successful. The rest of their diet was vegetables, nuts, seeds, and roots. Plants were the core of our ancestors’ diet. The small amounts of wild game, when it was available, were adjunctive. It wasn’t this Western mindset of unlimited availability of everything. We need to be okay with having a limited amount of, say, strawberries in the spring. We don’t need to be able to get everything all year long—that’s what’s so beautiful about seasonality.

Throughout the book, you suggest many uses for scraps and leftovers, like saving the liquid from cooking hominy corn and using it to flavor a soup or stew later. What informed the decision to emphasize zero-waste home-cooking habits? 

Walter Whitewater: When I was growing up, I saw that the elders didn’t let anything go to waste. When we picked plants, we never did it randomly or gathered more than we needed. When we harvested corn, we used it down to the husks. Anything that we don’t use in the kitchen is given back to the earth. We return it to the soil to help it regenerate, or we take it back to the mountain and share it with the four-leggeds.

LEF: My mom had a zero-waste policy in our household. In the U.S., a lot of people throw out mushroom stems, for example. Why not find a way to use them? That’s why we included a mushroom-stem bruschetta recipe. Or, when we peel potatoes, we put the skins in the oven and crisp them. Now, we have a natural, Native potato chip. The whole ingredient is usable and delicious.

Nixtamalized corn shows up a lot in the book, and you also teach readers how to make it themselves, right down to the correct way to burn branches to make culinary ash. Why was it important to you to dive deep into this technique?

LEF: This is an Indigenous science, so we felt strongly about acknowledging its cultural and nutritional importance. Not every Native community in the United States uses the term nixtamalization, but historically, Native communities took corn and boiled it in different kinds of ash. The type of ash varies depending on what tribe and what region you come from, but the ash raises the corn’s mineral content and nutritional value. One gram of culinary ash has roughly the same amount of calcium as an eight-ounce glass of milk. We’re just trying to reintroduce this into the consciousness of the masses.

What does reclaiming Indigenous foodways mean to you?

WW: Growing up, I’d see someone adding sugar to corn, and I’d think, why are they doing that? To me, adding to something that was already perfectly good didn’t make sense. Years went by, and after I started working with food, I realized that the danger for my people came when new commodities were introduced to our communities. Our ancestors never had sweetened corn, but then sugar was introduced and got into our blood. I always tell people now, “You don’t have to add sugar to that.” I want to remind them that they can get back to enjoying the plain, original flavors of foods as the earth intended, or sweeten something naturally by adding some fruit. 

LEF: We want to revitalize simple cooking techniques and recipes, and educate children on how to cook Native ingredients in ways that respect their taste and seasonality. If kids grow up with dinosaur-shaped chicken tenders, then that’s what they know. But if they grow up learning to enjoy a perfectly ripe peach from a farmers market, then that’s what they know. It’s up to us to develop the palates of the younger generation. There’s room for everyone to jump on this movement and make a difference.

What are some steps you hope more people will take to support the movement? 

LEF: You can set up your own trade routes. Let’s say my neighbor has six peach trees, and I don’t have any, but I grow chiles—we can trade. Let’s bring back these very small, very intimate relationships with neighbors and friends and family. You can also buy from your local farms, or from Native-owned businesses, and support these small mom-and-pop enterprises for economic sustainability. And if and when you can afford it, you can buy organic, so that eventually, hopefully, we don’t need pesticides. So the arugula has little holes from the bugs that ate it—it’s still good. Somewhere along the historical trajectory, our mindset changed, and we began expecting flour and sugar to be white. Why does it have to be bleached? Brown is beautiful. Let’s go back to these unadulterated, unaltered, re-Indigenized foods, for the sake of all our health and wellness.

With Thanksgiving approaching, it’s clear that much of the traditional holiday feast most people in the U.S. know today wouldn’t be possible without the eight ingredients in this book. How do you think about the complicated connotations of this day?

LEF: Many people are unaware of the contribution Native peoples have made to the foods we eat every day. When chef Walter and I prepare these foods, we try to revitalize everything associated with them, nurturing people while honoring our Native American ancestors. I think it’s important to keep in mind that every day there is something to be thankful for, that every day is Thanksgiving. I am thankful each and every day for the amazing abundance of locally sourced ancestral foods that I have access to, the local farmers that I purchase food from, and the plants that provide sustenance to me and everyone I cook for. Thanksgiving is a holiday when families can come together and honor their food and each other for one day out of the year, and I’m grateful that there’s one day which emphasizes thankfulness. Most of the time, everyone is so hurried, and so rushed, and there’s so much bombardment of negativity. But I wish and hope and pray that people could be more conscious and thankful every day. 

What’s an ethos you want to leave readers with?

WW: Food is our medicine. We have to respect the mother that we live on that gives us this food—the Earth.

LEF: We are all citizens of this Earth, and it is our collective responsibility to nurture and take care of it for future generations.

The post The Indigenous American Ingredients That Changed the Course of Food History appeared first on Saveur.

Pick out the right gift for the coffee or tea lover in your life, and they’ll think of you fondly every day while preparing their morning brew or afternoon pick-me-up. But instead of choosing a sampler box of tea bags or coffee beans (that might not suit their tastes, and that probably has an expiration date), go for a useful, stylish gift that will stand the test of time—helping your caffeine-imbibing loved ones brew mug after comforting mug for months. Here are our picks for the best gifts for coffee and tea lovers.

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Matcha devotees know that not all powders are created equal. And while the fresh-ground stuff is often more flavorful and aromatic, how many matcha lovers have time to grind leaves every single morning? Enter the Cuzen Matcha maker. To whip up any matcha drink, simply add tea leaves (caveat: it’s not recommended to use tea from brands other than Cuzen) and water to the machine, choose a strength option, and watch in awe as the appliance grinds and whisks them into a matcha shot. Your lucky recipients are sure to sing your praises with every matcha latte they get to enjoy in the comfort of home.

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We all know people who can’t fathom starting the day until they’ve had their daily cappuccino or flat white. There’s a good chance those folks appreciate the smooth taste of coffee in their evening drinks, too, and that’s where this ready-to-drink espresso martini comes in. The pre-mixed sip—which of course tastes great, as it’s mixed by the pros at beloved New York City restaurant Via Carota—makes it easier than ever to kick back on the couch with a nightcap. It’s no secret a reservation at Via Carota is hard to snag, but at least their signature cocktails can be knocked back anytime, anywhere. 

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Now this is a kettle we’d happily display on our countertops. The cheerful sky-blue color is a guaranteed mood-booster, and the vintage-inspired silhouette looks elegant and stylish. It also has a bunch of handy safety features, like boil-dry protection (the kettle won’t turn on if the well is empty), auto shut-off, and a base that stays cool. Whether making a pot of Longjing tea or filling a French press, this kettle is simply a pleasure to use.

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Know any coffee lovers who always seem to be jetting off somewhere, or planning yet another camping trip? For the frequent travelers in your life, the compact, portable Aeropress is one of the most convenient ways to make a smooth cup of coffee on the go. Using a patented technology that combines the techniques behind multiple brewing methods, the design ensures full-bodied flavor with minimal acidity and no grit. The latest version is also clear, so you can more easily see exactly what’s going on inside the contraption.

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We’re firm believers that the vessel from which you drink your coffee is just as important as the beans and the brewing method. These new ceramic-lined mugs from YETI have everything going for them: they fit under most espresso machines, making them perfect for everything from cortados to cappuccinos; the double-wall vacuum insulation keeps the drink nice and hot; they’re stackable for easy nesting, whether in the kitchen cabinet or at the campsite; and they’re dishwasher-safe to boot. The coffee drinkers on your list will be sipping from this durable mug for years to come.

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The ritual of making a cup of coffee can be a treat for the eyes as much as for the nose and taste buds. These crystal glasses from Riedel, a brand known for fine glassware, are an elegant way for discerning coffee drinkers to visually appreciate their beverages as they sip—from milk swirling in a cold brew to microfoam mixing into an espresso. The sharp, pretty design also feels a little fancy, adding a touch of luxury to the whole coffee experience.

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For making a fine cup of pour-over coffee, few tools are as widely appreciated as the iconic Chemex. Handmade by artisan glass blowers using non-porous Borosilicate glass, the simple design looks pleasing on the countertop without taking up much space. Every Chemex comes with a wooden collar that acts as a handle, but you can also order extras in different colors, like the handsome blue one pictured, to better match seasonal decor, or the mood of the day.

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Those who like brewing loose-leaf tea know the dissatisfaction of taking a sip only to end up swallowing a bunch of leaf debris. A good strainer makes all the difference, and this long-handled, silver-plated option from Harney & Sons is as functional as it is gorgeous. Placed over a teacup, it easily catches any particles as you pour from your teapot. While enjoying the hot drink, simply nest the strainer in the little accompanying bowl that conveniently comes with the tool.

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There’s nothing like an advent calendar to make the winter holiday countdown feel extra festive, and this one from Onyx Coffee takes coffee aficionados on a global tour. Its 24 small bags of whole-bean coffee from diverse producers, climates, and processing methods around the world, the calendar will immerse your favorite coffee drinker in the terroirs of El Salvador, Kenya, Panama, and beyond.

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Anyone who appreciates the ritual and precision of grinding coffee manually will love unwrapping this design from 1Zpresso. The titanium-coated 48mm conical burrs (this might not mean anything to you, but coffee fanatics will nod approvingly) make this grinder both effective and durable. It takes less than a minute to prepare the beans for a single cup of coffee, and it’s easy to choose from hundreds of grind settings by turning the top of the grinder. Not only will the coffee drinkers on your list appreciate the functionality of this gift, they’ll also be impressed that you clearly know your stuff.

Every product is independently selected and vetted by editors. Things you buy through our links may earn us a commission.

The post The Best Gifts for Coffee and Tea Lovers appeared first on Saveur.

David Cáceres says he knows it may sound odd, but in some ways he feels closer to his late mother now than when she was alive. He and his brother José grew up selling her pan dulce on the streets of Mexico City, and now use her recipes to bake sweet buns and breads by the dozen at their San Antonio bakery La Panadería. Every day, they’re surrounded by her memory—and her presence is never more palpable than when Día de los Muertos, or Day of the Dead, rolls around.

“I can see her in every guest that comes to the bakery,” David says. Weeks before the holiday, the kitchen ramps up output of its signature pan de muerto, or bread of the dead, as families prepare to welcome back lost loved ones. During Día de los Muertos, observed in Mexico and throughout the diaspora on Nov. 1 and 2, it’s believed that the departed embark on a journey to visit the realm of the living. Sweet and fluffy pan de muerto—usually flavored with citrus zest and orange blossom water, decorated with bone-shaped patterns, and sometimes sprinkled with multi-hued sanding sugars—is served to pay homage to those who have passed.

With so many local Mexican bakeries embracing the spirit of the season, it’s hard not to come across pan de muerto in San Antonio this time of year. Bedoy’s Bakery has been churning out the loaves for more than 60 years, while Panifico Bake Shop bakes everything from cupcakes topped with calaveras (sugar skulls) to pan de muerto in the shape of human figures (representing the deceased). In the days leading up to the occasion, the breads appear at gravesites and in cemeteries across the city as families gather to pay their respects and sweep the tombs of the departed. People also bring pan de muerto home to grace ofrendas—temporary altars decked with photos and memorabilia of the dead, as well as items that nod to the four elements of water, fire, wind, and earth.

A glass of water placed on an ofrenda “serves to quench the spirit’s thirst after their long journey,” explains Pete Cortez, co-owner of San Antonio restaurant group La Familia Cortez. Candles represent fire, lighting the way for returning souls, he says, while intricate paper cutouts known as papel picado signify wind. Food, which often includes pan de muerto, denotes earth.

Each ofrenda includes personal touches, Cortez adds. “Altars are designed to capture the essence of those being honored, and to be familiar and inviting to the spirit of the deceased,” he says. For that reason, presented alongside the pan de muerto might be things the dead once loved to eat and drink. According to San Antonio-based chef and restaurant owner Johnny Hernandez, mole, enchiladas, tequila, and mezcal are some of the most common offerings he’s seen adorn ofrendas throughout his life. “And I’ve seen thousands,” he says.

After Spain conquered the Aztec empire in the 16th century, Indigenous peoples’ practice of memorializing the dead eventually intertwined with Catholic observances of All Saints’ Day and All Souls’ Day (observed on Nov. 1 and 2, respectively), explains Texas food historian Melissa Guerra. In 2008, UNESCO recognized the Day of the Dead as an Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Over time, the holiday has broadened into a secular festival, spreading beyond Mexico to cities across the globe.

Few places in the U.S. have woven Día de los Muertos into the fabric of their community as deeply as San Antonio, where many Mexicans have migrated over the centuries because of transnational ties. “San Antonio has never stopped being connected to Mexico,” notes Mexican American Civil Rights Institute executive director Sarah Zenaida Gould, adding that the Spanish founded the city “to create a settlement halfway between Mexico City and their northeastern-most settlement in Natchitoches.” After the local nonprofit Centro Cultural Aztlan launched an annual commemoration of Día de los Muertos in San Antonio nearly half a century ago, Gould explains, other organizations like the Guadalupe Cultural Arts Center and the Esperanza Peace and Justice Center began reclaiming and preserving the cultural traditions surrounding Día de los Muertos through events like public ofrenda installations and dance performances. 

In recent years, the festivities have expanded into a carnivalesque celebration and, increasingly, a tourist draw. Gould attributes the holiday’s growing profile largely to the global awareness driven by Día de Los Muertos-inspired films like Coco and The Book of Life, as well as the James Bond flick Spectre, which opens with an elaborate Día de los Muertos parade in the Mexican capital. “Previously, there was no big parade in Mexico City like the one in Spectre,” Gould observes. “Now, there is.”

Hernandez has spearheaded many citywide events tied to the holiday in San Antonio, including one of the most anticipated—a lavish parade on the River Walk, where ornately decorated barges journey down the city’s famed waterways. Elsewhere, colorful alebrijes (Mexican folk art sculptures depicting fantastical creatures) light up the streets, while local artists install ofrendas in highly trafficked destinations like The Pearl, a dining and shopping complex. “People come from all over the United States to celebrate with us,” says David. “Every year, the celebrations have been getting bigger.”

The holiday may seem like a giant fiesta, says Gould, but the celebratory air is intertwined with reflection. “It’s very Mexican to be both festive and contemplative at the same time,” she notes. “Death is absolutely a very difficult part of life, but also our loved ones never really leave us. Even in death, we are always connected.” The acts of embellishing ofrendas and cooking celebratory dishes, Cortez adds, allow the living “to maintain a connection to their departed loved ones and keep their memory alive in their hearts.”

It’s evident in the holiday’s whimsical motifs and vibrant-hued décor that it doesn’t bill itself as a mourning of death, but rather an affirmation of life. “Bright colors, flowers, and silly skeletons can nudge our hearts away from grief,” says Guerra. This joyful approach to the inevitable, David points out, is a significant part of why he thinks the holiday is finding growing appeal outside the Mexican population. “It’s the kind of celebration that made me realize how much I loved my mom, and how much she meant to us,” he says. If the way Día de los Muertos festivities in San Antonio have expanded beyond the Mexican community is any indication, the desire to feel close to lost loved ones is “something universal,” David adds.

Once the Día de los Muertos revelry finally winds down, you might assume that the Cáceres brothers would be exhausted. Rather, David insists that every year he feels replenished by the act of sharing his mother’s baking legacy with the people of San Antonio, and will never tire of making her symbolic breads. 

“No matter what,” he says, “I’m going to die baking.”

Recipe

Pan de Muerto (Bread of the Dead)

Get the recipe >

The post The Sweet Bread That Fuels San Antonio’s Día de los Muertos Celebrations appeared first on Saveur.

The world started eating rice thousands of years ago. By comparison, farming of the crop is relatively new to the United States. Production largely flourished after the transatlantic slave trade forced enslaved African people to the shores of South Carolina, where their agrarian wisdom helped jumpstart the grain’s cultivation.

One variety in particular, Carolina Gold, flourished on U.S. soil. The buttery, nutty grain became the first commercially produced rice in the U.S., not to mention the most sought-after, as fourth-generation farmer Marion “Rollen” Chalmers told a group of visitors this spring at the Charleston Wine + Food Festival’s agritourism event “Rice Fields + Winnows: The West African Connection”. “Rice thrived on this land,” he told us, gesturing to the heritage fields upon which we were standing. Carolina Gold had been grown and harvested on that same land in the 18th and 19th centuries, but production dwindled in the 20th century as other rice strains became more widely cultivated—and the Lowcountry grain all but disappeared. “But people here remembered how good it tasted,” said Chalmers. Over the past couple of decades, growers like him have begun reviving the crop. Now, they’re introducing the heritage grain to new generations of rice enthusiasts.

Carolina Gold arguably owes its existence to the enslaved African people who first nurtured the crop. To highlight this link, cookbook author and chef Pierre Thiam prepared for the crowd a creamy, vanilla-scented rice pudding called sombi, which originated in his native Senegal, after our tour of Chalmers’ fields. The grains soaked up the rich coconut milk, while lime juice and toasted coconut flakes infused the dessert with tropical flavor.

Though Carolina Gold’s chewy texture and sweet finish make it an excellent candidate for rice pudding, it isn’t the only grain for the job. Cultures all over the world have been turning different varieties of rice into milky, velvety desserts for eons, much to the benefit of rice lovers everywhere. These are some of our favorite rice puddings from around the world.

Sombi (Senegalese Coconut Rice Pudding)

Chef Pierre Thiam finishes his version of the Senegalese rice pudding with caramelized mango for brightness and toasted coconut for texture. Both toppings make excellent foils for the rich, velvety grains. Get the recipe >

Cardamom Rice Pudding

The piney, peppery scent of whole cardamom pods permeates roz bil laban, a chilled, milky Egyptian rice pudding that’s sometimes also flavored with rosewater. Make this sweet treat a day or two ahead of a gathering for a ready-to-eat, crowd-pleasing dessert. Get the recipe >

Kheer (Indian Rice Pudding)  

Cardamom adds depth and warmth to many Indian dishes—from hearty curries to masala chai to kheer, a luxuriously creamy pudding made with jasmine rice and sweetened with jaggery. Reduced whole milk provides a thick, velvety base, while almonds and pistachios deliver crunch.  Get the recipe >

Rose Petal Rice Pudding

Darioush Wines co-founder Shahpar Khaledi’s Nowruz (Persian New Year) spread wouldn’t be complete without this delicately sweet treat to cap off the evening. Try pairing it with a dessert wine that has citrus or stone-fruit notes to bring out the lovely aroma of the dried rose petals in the pudding.  Get the recipe >

Rice Pudding with Lavender and Grated Bosc Pear

Lavender pairs beautifully with the subtle floral flavor of Bosc pears in this elegant rice pudding, which gets its pleasing airiness from whipped cream. Get the recipe >

Sakkarai Pongal (Tamil-Style Sweet Rice Pudding)

The namesake dish of the South Indian festival Pongal is traditionally made with the first rice of the season to celebrate the harvest. Flavored with jaggery and cardamom and garnished with cashews and raisins, it’s a pleasure to eat any time of year. Get the recipe >

Thai Black Sticky Rice Pudding

Black sticky rice, which is unhulled, brings satisfying chewiness to chef Peerasri Montreeprasat’s take on Thai-style rice pudding, while coconut cream adds luxurious richness. The little nuggets of taro folded into the grains make for a tasty surprise. Get the recipe >

Swedish Rice Pudding

This Swedish delicacy is light and only mildly sweet, making it ideal for either dessert or breakfast. Short-grain rice gives the pudding an extra luscious consistency, while whipped cream adds a lovely fluffiness. The raspberry sauce drizzled around the grains makes for a delightful sweet-tart contrast to the milky pudding. Get the recipe >

Cinnamon Rice Pudding

The deep caramel flavor of brown sugar and sweet, earthy fragrance of cinnamon make a harmonious pair in this rice pudding studded with rum-soaked raisins. Warm and a little boozy, it’s perfect for a chilly winter evening. Get the recipe >

Sweet Brown Rice Pudding with Rhubarb-Ginger Compote

For this whole-grain, dairy-free dessert, chef Judy Haubert uses coconut milk instead of eggs and cream and spoons a tart, refreshing rhubarb-ginger compote on top to cut the richness. Get the recipe >

The post Around the World in 10 Rice Puddings appeared first on Saveur.

In Japan, many people start their mornings with natto gohan—sticky, stringy fermented soybeans served over rice with different garnishes. This natto gohan recipe tops the dish with scallion and raw egg yolks, two common choices, though grated nagaimo (mountain yam), katsuobushi (dried bonito flakes), tsukemono (a category of Japanese pickles), and finely chopped kimchi are popular and equally delicious adornments.

Look for natto at your local Japanese market or Asian grocer, or online, where the beans are typically sold in packs (which often include sachets of karashi—a spicy Japanese yellow mustard—and a soy sauce-based seasoning).

Featured in “There’s a Lot to Love About Natto,” by Megan Zhang.

The post Natto Gohan appeared first on Saveur.

If you hope to live a long life, chances are you’ve researched, or at least speculated, what makes Japan’s average life expectancy the highest in the world. Many research findings have connected Japanese longevity to certain food and drink staples, from fish to green tea. Among the hailed ingredients is a slippery, slimy one that’s beloved in Japanese culture but has yet to make its way into the hearts and minds of the global masses: natto, an all-around miraculous food.

Natto is made by steaming soybeans, then inoculating them with a microorganism known as Bacillus subtilis, explains Ann Yonetani, a microbiologist and founder of the natto company NYrture. As a result of fermentation, the soybeans develop a sticky, stringy texture and a nutty, pungent flavor, somewhat reminiscent of aged cheese.

My dad, who spent time working in Japan and speaks the language, instilled in me an early appreciation for natto. At breakfast, he’d scoop a little into my bowl of porridge, or slide a jar toward me encouragingly as I ate my scrambled eggs—often while remarking, “it’s really good for you”—before gobbling up a helping of his own. At first I merely tolerated natto’s presence in my bowl, but eventually, I missed its funky aroma whenever it wasn’t on the table.

If no one ever coaxed you to acquire a taste for natto when you were a kid, it’s not too late to acquire it now—and it turns out there are lots of good reasons to do so. It’s no secret that fermented foods are advantageous for gut health, but one way Bacillus subtilis differs from the bacteria in many other fermented items is that it has the ability to form spores. “The spores are able to survive the extremely acidic conditions of the stomach and make it through your digestive system,” explains Yonetani. These beneficial microbes can then join the community of bacteria that populate the intestines, where they contribute to a more diverse gut microbiome, which in turn supports healthier immune and digestive function.

Natto also contains more Vitamin K2 than any other known food source, notes Yonetani, explaining that the micronutrient is critical for calcium metabolism. Studies published in The Journal of Nutrition associate natto consumption with lower risk of osteoporotic fracture and bone density loss. It could support heart health, too, as eating fermented soy products like natto and miso is also linked to lower risk of death by cardiovascular disease, according to a study in The BMJ (British Medical Journal). “Really good for you” indeed.

In Japan, many people wake up to fermented soybeans. “It’s really very popular as a breakfast dish,” says Jane Matsumoto, director of culinary arts at the Japanese American Cultural & Community Center (JACCC). Perhaps that’s because natto is exceptionally filling, with more than 30 grams of protein in a single cup—something Yonetani says she especially appreciated after transitioning to a vegan lifestyle. Plus, natto is easy to prepare: simply scoop the savory ingredient right out of the jar and dollop it over rice, or stir some into a bowl of miso soup, and breakfast is served.

Those curious about natto’s health-boosting benefits can now find it in a variety of forms—from natto powder to capsules of isolated nattokinase (an enzyme found in natto that’s especially linked to cardiovascular benefits)—but there’s nothing like enjoying Japan’s gift to nutrition in all its funky, slippery glory.“Natto is an amazingly simple, two-ingredient food that produces something so unique, with marvelous flavor and texture,” says Yonetani.

In the U.S., look for natto in Japanese markets and Asian grocers, and on e-commerce retailers like Umamicart. The ingredient typically comes with little packets of karashi (Japanese mustard) and a soy sauce-based seasoning for stirring into the beans before eating, but there are myriad ways to enjoy the ingredient. “I think natto is a lot more versatile than the traditional Japanese applications,” Matsumoto notes.

Here are some different techniques for integrating natto into your next meal:

Enjoy natto with rice.

An easy, popular preparation I often whip up quickly for breakfast is natto gohan, which calls for dolloping the fermented beans over steamed rice, then garnishing with toppings like scallion and tsukemono (a variety of Japanese pickles). But don’t stop there. Chris Ono, the chef behind the JACCC’s restaurant concept Hansei, likes eating natto with yaki onigiri, or grilled rice balls, which have a crispy texture that contrasts delightfully with the gooey natto. “I break the onigiri open and put the natto in the middle,” he says. Ono also rolls the soybeans into maki with scallion and takuan, or pickled daikon—a sweet, crunchy addition that helps “cut the intensity” of the natto, he adds.

Pair natto with similarly viscous ingredients.

In Japanese cuisine, natto often shows up alongside other viscous foods (Japanese language describes that sticky texture as neba neba). “I call it slime on slime,” says Matsumoto, who loves pairing natto with okra. Grated yamaimo, or mountain yam, is another terrific partner for the ingredient—the sticky combination makes a tasty topping for any rib-sticking bowl of carbs, be it noodles, rice, or porridge. Raw egg, a typical garnish for natto gohan, also makes for a satisfyingly slurpable concoction.

Toss natto into a stir-fry.

The next time you whip up a stir-fry, try tossing in some fermented soybeans. “Think of natto as a main protein,” suggests Ono, pointing out the ingredient’s savory flavor and meaty chew. Earthy ingredients like mushrooms marry nicely with the nutty quality of natto, he says, while alliums like garlic and onion enhance its umaminess. Just be sure to add the natto at the very end of the cooking process, Yonetani advises, so you don’t apply too much heat, which could kill those friendly bacteria.

Complement natto with your favorite cheese.

Anything you might top with cheese, you can probably consider adding some natto to it, says Yonetani, pointing out that the two are similarly pungent. She regularly mixes them in dishes like grilled-cheese sandwiches, scrambled eggs, and pasta—and swears that Parmesan cheese is an especially exquisite complement for natto (Japanese and Italian seasonings are known to be harmonious, after all). If it’s hard for you to get past the beans’ stringy quality, consider folding some into a cheesy, velvety dip. The soybeans add crunch, while their slippery texture incorporates subtly into the creaminess of the dip.

Add sweetness and spice.

Seasonings for natto aren’t limited to karashi and soy sauce. Got some sriracha, Tabasco, salsa macha, or chile crisp on hand? I love drizzling any of these fiery condiments over top to heat things up. Ono recommends sprinkling in shichimi togarashi (a seven-spice mix that includes red chiles, sansho pepper, dried orange peel, and sesame seeds) or stirring in yuzu kosho (a fermented condiment made with chiles and yuzu) to jazz up your natto with a citrusy, spicy boost. Or, follow Yonetani’s suggestion and experiment with stirring in different salad dressings. From sweet honey mustard to tart balsamic vinaigrette, the flavor profiles you can create are endless.

Recipe

Natto Gohan

Get the recipe >

The post There’s a Lot to Love About Natto appeared first on Saveur.