Baileys and other Irish creams give off winter seasonal vibes, but enjoyment of the drink shouldn’t be limited to just a few months
In the world of coffee, flavor can be controversial. Many aficionados insist that the beverage should be enjoyed straight-up so that the drinker can fully take advantage of the impressive bouquet of flavors that well-roasted beans can infuse into hot water. But for the rest of us normies, there is Irish cream.
For anyone who grew up in the ’90s, Irish cream — a creamy liqueur with hints of chocolate and whiskey — was a very fancy, very adult beverage. It’s what your parents added to their espresso martinis at holiday parties, and what mom poured into her coffee on Christmas morning when she was tired of hearing you shriek about your new Lego set. Now it’s considered totally pedestrian, replaced in cocktail bars with bartender-crafted cream liqueurs and displaced from bougie coffee bars by fancier, trendier flavors like lavender and Dalgona. At this point, you’re much more likely to find it in a supermarket, where there is no shortage of Irish cream in the coffee aisle, sitting alongside flavors like hazelnut, caramel, and vanilla. (It’s also infused in syrups and the actual coffee beans, too.)
But the alcoholic Baileys is both the most ubiquitous and the original brand, created in 1973 by executives at spirits company Gilbeys of Ireland, who were in pursuit of a smoother, more approachable beverage than straight-up whiskey. The drink’s prototype was a mixture of Jameson whiskey, cream, and sugar. Writing for the Irish Times in 2017, creator David Gluckman called the original beverage “bloody awful.”
“We went back to the store, searching the shelves for something else, [and] found our salvation in Cadbury’s powdered drinking chocolate,” Gluckman wrote. “It tasted really good. Not only this, but the cream seemed to have the effect of making the drink taste stronger, like full-strength spirit. It was extraordinary.” A decade after it was created, Gilbeys was selling 48 million bottles of Baileys a year, thanks in large part to the liqueur’s popularity in cocktails like White Russians and mudslides.
Baileys is now the top-selling liqueur in the world, with a slew of different flavors including the recently debuted red velvet, and a dairy-free version made with almond milk. (The company has also inspired many copycats like Irish butter juggernaut Kerrygold’s Irish cream liqueur, and Five Farms, a craft Irish cream also made in Ireland.) Starting in the 1990s, Baileys’s ad agencies aggressively pitched the liqueur as the ideal holiday beverage, perfect for sharing with friends and family during the holiday season. That tack makes a lot of sense, considering that Bailey’s is delicious when poured into coffee or hot cocoa, both cold weather staples. It’s also just boozy enough to have a couple of drinks at the company Christmas party without getting too wild.
“We invited a few friends over for Baileys and caroling,” reads one 1993 print advertisement. “An entire choir showed up at our door.”
It’s pretty unthinkable that whiskey, chocolate, and milk could make for something so rich and comforting, but there’s a reason why Irish cream has such a grip on the world: It’s delicious. It’s also still, in the world of chain coffee shops, a seasonal option. Dunkin’ only serves its Irish creme coffee around St. Patrick’s Day, while Starbucks limits its excellent Irish cream cold foam to the winter months. Perhaps it’s that scarcity, the idea that we can only get this flavor during specific times of the year, that inspires such loyalty.
And maybe Irish cream is in the very beginnings of making a comeback among even those with the fanciest of palates. Pastry chef Dominique Ansel collaborated with Baileys this month, debuting a nonalcoholic hot cocoa kit that includes chocolate ganache infused with Irish cream flavor. Even the queen of pop and living lavish herself, Mariah Carey, has debuted her own version of the liqueur called Black Irish, which is available in classic, salted caramel, and white chocolate flavors.
But like so many other things we enjoy during the holidays, including cranberry ginger ale and cornbread dressing, there’s no reason why enjoying Irish cream should be limited to just a few months. And there’s certainly no reason why anyone should feel, heaven forbid, uncool for enjoying the timeless combination of chocolate, cream, and booze. Call me basic, but I’ll be topping off my coffee with a shot of Irish cream — boozy or not — whenever I damn well please. (Pro tip: Baileys and gas station cappuccino cannot be beat.)
For Some Food Bloggers, Digital Cookbooks Are Better Than Print
November 30, 2021
Admin
0 Comments
Given the costs of creating a print version, going directly online can have higher dividends
In June, Maria Hammonds took her digital cookbooks off her website. The blogger behind the Instagram account Deep Fried Honey and the recipe site of the same name had produced five e-books since 2018, which her readers could purchase online, paying through Paypal or Venmo, and receive their book via PDF download. For Hammonds, the books were a way to get paid for time-consuming labor and expensive production on a project that wasn’t even her primary job.
But once Hammonds was receiving enough ad revenue from the site to be adequately compensated, she took the books down. “I’m a communist. I was never in this for money,” Hammonds says. “I like for things to not be behind a paywall. Money is hard to come by, and I’m very particular with people spending it in any way to support me.” Since followers might worry they were losing access to recipes that appeared only in the books and not on her blog, she announced plans to transfer everything to the public website.
There was just one problem: A few weeks after she announced her decision to remove her cookbooks, there was a minor revolt in her email and social media inboxes. A recipe — baked spaghetti — had just gone viral, bringing in a wave of new readers who wanted the books before they disappeared, despite Hammonds’s warning they were paying for something that would soon be available for free. She begrudgingly put the books back up, at least until all the recipes were duplicated on the site.
This uproarious demand wouldn’t surprise any Patreon supporter, newsletter subscriber, or any other loyal subscriber in the new creator economy — but it might surprise a professional publisher. Digital cookbooks have been a hard sell for big publishing houses, despite the promise of Amazon’s Kindle and other e-readers. According to the NPD Group, a market research company that tracks book sales, Americans bought 2 million digital cookbooks in 2019 versus nearly 20 million print books. Those numbers both rose coming into 2021, to 3.6 million digital books and almost 23 million in print, but digital cookbook sales sagged through May, even as print sales continued upward.
There are some obvious reasons why e-cookbooks might struggle. As a culture, we romanticize the food-stained pages of a print cookbook, a physical totem that can be passed down through generations. There are also practical drawbacks to referencing an electronic device mid-recipe in a messy kitchen. Plus, cookbooks as a genre have been gravitating toward the coffee table, where they act as decorations as much as cooking guides.
“In general, illustrated books and books with structured lists and tables are less effective as digital titles,” says Brian O’Leary, executive director of the Book Industry Study Group. “Many [e-]readers are still e-Ink [a display technology that mimics ink on a page], not color, so cooking pictures are less appealing. And structured data like a list of ingredients can take up an entire screen while offering little context. Other genres with more or all text are a more natural fit for digital devices (so far).”
But where big publishers see poor returns, small independent creators see opportunities. Self-publishing in print has always had its advantages for writers: greater artistic freedom, direct engagement with audiences, the ability to speak directly to a community of readers without meddling editors, an affordable way to see their ideas come to fruition. Digital cookbooks are no different, and there are often huge advantages to producing a cookbook on a smaller scale, especially since DIYing a digital book has never been easier with plug-and-play graphic design software.
Independent recipe creators do face many of the same challenges as publishing houses in convincing readers to pay for digital downloads (plus a handful more hurdles unique to self-publishing). But for some, self-publishing digital cookbooks can be a significant source of income, at least enough to offset the costs of running a website and stocking a pantry. Since advertising networks typically require creators to hit minimum traffic goals before signing them on to sell ads against their content (anywhere from 10,000 page views up to 100,000), it can also be a first step toward monetizing a passion project along with virtual classes, YouTube videos, and product endorsements.
For author Karen Agom, who writes about Nigerian-American food on Nwa Bekee, a book was a personal financial goal. “I was working with a business coach and it was part of our plan to have a product,” Agom says of her first book, Revamp, which she published in 2021. “I wanted to have an opportunity to see how it did without further complicating it with looking for a distributor or having to physically mail copies myself.”
That doesn’t mean it was easy. Agom had to personally take on writing, editing, marketing, and selling her new book. As a small personal brand with a couple thousand followers, she was worried there wouldn’t be much demand for her product, especially a nonphysical good. But she quickly found success promoting her book to her established audience, who were more than happy to shell out for an ebook. “We live in a very progressive age, when digital goods are viable, and there’s a market for that.” She also provided instructions on printing the book should customers prefer a tangible product to a PDF.
With a book under her belt, Agom also feels better prepared to approach publishers about deals for follow-up works. “I think I’ve shown what I can do on my own. I’d be interested to see what a publishing company could offer that I could not,” she says. While her first book focused on adaptable recipes and meal prep to encourage healthy habits, one of Agom’s primary interests in the kitchen, she says her next book will focus on Nigerian and West African dishes. In negotiating a book deal, she would bring her established audience with her to the table.
For self-publishers, digital cookbooks are usually a wiser investment than print. Once food blogger and photographer Ksenia Prints decided to self-publish her 2016 book, Middle Eastern Small Plates, “it was obvious it needed to be electronic,” she says. Since many freelancers already host their own websites, they can produce e-cookbooks for just the cost of design, stripping out shipping and commerce platforms like Amazon that take a cut. A professional designer, like the one Prints worked with, might charge hundreds or a few thousand dollars, but she says many people DIY their books using graphic design tools like Canva. “I received requests to do a print addition, but looking at it, I wasn’t sure the cost justified the expense. I wasn’t sure I would get the ROI on that,” Prints says. “For people who grew up on print media, there’s something so magical about seeing your name in print and holding it in front of you. It’s nostalgia. But that’s not a real-life reason.”
Before she decided to self-publish, Prints pursued that dream, shopping around a proposal for a print book. But “I wasn’t very attracted to some of the proposals I was seeing from publishing houses,” she says. Unless authors bring a huge built-in audience from their websites, many publishing contracts require authors to shoulder the costs of promoting the work. “If the publishing house offers you enough of a package or support around those promotional costs, like a tour, then it becomes a bit more appealing. If you’re doing all the promotion yourself, you might as well self-publish,” Prints says. Publishers would also let her have some control over the content, but would command the structure of the book and the way it looked; they wanted to bring in another photographer or had specific requirements if Prints was to produce her own art. “You relinquished a lot of artistic freedom,” she says. “The approach is: A publishing house knows what works, they have limited budgets, and if you want to be published with them you need to accept that.”
From the outside, it may seem reasonable for publishers to dictate the terms of their investments. But the stakes are high for food writers, who often feel their recipes are delicate expressions of identity easily misconstrued by outside parties. While creative freedom is a common credo for self-published authors, it’s especially important for writers online today, when audience perceptions of authenticity can make or break a creator. Recipe authors work hard to establish authority with readers, and they risk that work by letting editors meddle in their recipes.
For example, in 2014, Amanda Ponzio-Mouttaki, the writer behind Maroc Mama (and an Eater contributor), produced her own digital book, My Moroccan Kitchen. She initially thought of the project as a stepping stone toward a book deal — until she had doubts. “If I work with a publisher then I’d need to have someone else telling me what could or couldn’t be included based on their target market and what they think people would want,” she says. “I wouldn’t want to adjust or adapt recipes to fit. For example, the [combination] of tagine and couscous I see allover Moroccan cookbooks when that just isn’t a thing.”
This concern isn’t just about creative liberties; it translates into dollars and cents. Ponzio-Mouttaki was able to convert blog fans into cookbook customers by leveraging the personal connections and trust she had built up. “I think that people are willing to pay when they are invested in you and can see that what you offer is worth it,” she says. With a publisher dictating content in the middle of that relationship, that bond could easily be broken and the value to audiences lost.
Agom echoes that idea, pointing out that digital cookbooks are especially valuable in communities built on trust. “People are not just looking for recipes. They’re looking for accountability,” she says. “We live in an age where we are overloaded with information. There isn’t a recipe out there that doesn’t exist for free. But because there is this inundation of information, people are overwhelmed. They don’t know if they’ve got a good source or not. If it’s a cultural dish, they may not be familiar with the ingredients or substitutes.”
Readers overwhelmed by the ocean of internet recipes can look to e-cookbooks for direction and curation. But there are also plenty of extremely online home cooks who don’t need help knowing what to make for dinner. They might purchase digital cookbooks because they feel more exclusive than mass-consumed free options, or more intentional and finite than regurgitated cooking trends. Others might derive virtuous satisfaction or see an ethical obligation to support the people who develop their diet. It means something to directly support creators.
Popular demand isn’t always as rosy as it appears, though. “People on the internet, especially if you’re a creative, think that they, as the audience, drive you. It’s kind of like going up to a teacher and saying, ‘I pay your taxes.’ There’s entitlement that comes with it,” Hammonds says. She also points out that a name on a digital cookbook isn’t a guarantee of credibility. “There’s just not a lot of integrity in this because it’s the internet. I know people are now looking at cooking on the internet like, let’s get rich, let’s make money, let’s get followers.” Without naming names, Hammonds says she’s seen people steal recipes from established bloggers to repurpose that content on newer platforms like TikTok where it seems unique. “These people get big on TikTok and others ask how to support them, so the next thing they do is compile all these stolen recipes into an ebook and sell it.”
While she personally tries to credit her sources and inspirations, Hammond casts some (justified) side-eye at the entire creator economy. “As people on the internet, y’all don’t know us. You can’t trust us blindly,” she says.
But even if intentions tend to break down in the muck of the internet, the desires driving the ecookbook world seem genuine. Independent authors want to serve their communities and make money on their own terms, and readers want to support creators. For Agom, it’s worked out so far. “It’s been a very symbiotic relationship with [readers] supporting me and me meeting their needs as well. That’s just how to be a good creator and entrepreneur,” she says. In this context, a self-published ecookbook can be a gateway, not only to exterior goals like financial success, but personal fulfillment as well. “It’s honestly been one of the most rewarding things I’ve done this year,” Agom says. “Most cooks aspire to get picked up by big publishers, but this process has been empowering, to know that I’m capable of achieving my dreams on my own until those opportunities come forward.”
Jennifer Luxtonis a California-born, Seattle-based editorial illustrator and graphic journalist.
Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Persimmons
November 30, 2021
Admin
0 Comments
With their honeyed flavor and jammy texture, luscious persimmons are some of the best seasonal eating known to humankind
“Persimmons look and taste like the fall season,” says Rachel Sullivan, the farm assistant at Frog Hollow Farm, a Brentwood, California, farm currently in the middle of its annual persimmon harvest. Seeing Frog Hollow’s orchards change color and the fruit turn “bright orange,” she says, “is the perfect welcome to fall.”
In various parts of the world, particularly Asia, nothing welcomes the harvest season quite like a luscious persimmon, a fruit long prized for its jammy texture and honeyed flavor. But here in the United States, persimmons haven’t attained quite the same instant association with fall, taking a distant back seat to pumpkins and other members of the gourd family. And that’s a shame, because they happen to be some of the best seasonal eating known to humankind. So without further ado, let’s take a closer look at autumn’s sweetest treat.
What are persimmons?
They don’t necessarily look the part, but persimmons are technically berries by definition. They come in various shapes and sizes, but their overall appearance can be likened to waxy, warm-toned tomatoes. Their coloring exists on a broad spectrum, from yellows to darker red-oranges and even brown or black in some species.
While the word persimmon actually comes from the Algonquin word pessamin, the fruit is believed to have originated in China, where it was first harvested over 2,000 years ago. The species was eventually introduced to Japan and Korea in the seventh and 14th centuries, respectively. Today, these three countries are the world’s largest persimmon producers, with the fruit playing an important role in their fall harvest celebrations.
If you’re exploring the delicious world of persimmons for the first time, the main thing you’ll notice is that they’re typically grouped as either astringent or non-astringent. We’ll explore the differences between the two later, but note that this classification reflects the fruit’s flavor profile, texture, and timeline for when you can eat it. In other words, if it’s astringent and unripened, you might want to wait a few days (or weeks) before digging in.
Where do persimmons grow?
Persimmons grow on trees from the Diospyros genus, which includes over 500 species of both evergreen and deciduous trees. Diospyros kaki is the most commonly cultivated fruit-bearing tree today and is the same cultivar that originated in China over two millennia ago. This species can grow up to 40 feet in height and has deciduous leaves that change colors once fall rolls around, along with its persimmon fruit that also ripens into hues of yellow, orange, and red. Diospyros kaki grows throughout Asia and parts of northern India, as well as parts of southern Europe and the Middle East. Another related persimmon species, Diospyros virginiana, or the American persimmon, is native to the United States. It grows along the East Coast and in states further west, including Texas, Oklahoma, and Iowa, and bears fruit smaller than the Asian persimmon.
How many kinds of persimmons are there?
As mentioned, there are several variations of persimmons that differ in size, flavor, and, of course, color. In the United States, the two you’ll most commonly find in supermarkets are the Asian varieties known as fuyu and hachiya. You might also hear them referred to as Japanese persimmons, Chinese persimmons, or kaki persimmons due to their association with the Diospyros kaki tree.
The fuyu is a non-astringent persimmon species. Round and squat, it resembles a tomato, and its color can range from warm yellow to dark orange-red. It can be enjoyed either firm or fully ripened, and this versatility has made it the most commonly cultivated persimmon in the world.
Eating a hachiya persimmon, by contrast, is not quite as straightforward. Larger than the fuyu and shaped a bit like an acorn, this astringent variety requires adequate time to ripen before it’s eaten; unripe, its flavor is intensely sour and tannic. As they ripen, their skin turns increasingly transparent as their flesh softens into a jelly-like pulp.
Other non-astringent persimmons include the giant fuyu (gosho) persimmon, which is double the size of the average fuyu; the pale-orange jiro persimmon; and the super-sweet Sharon fruit, which gets its name from Israel’s Sharon plain.
Astringent varieties include the American persimmon, which is paler orange in color. Similar to the Asian hachiya, this regional variety is completely inedible until it’s fully ripened. Mexico’s Black Sapote is unique from other persimmons, with an inedible green skin that conceals a creamy interior that looks strikingly similar to chocolate pudding. And then there’s the aromatic, speckled, and complex Maru, a type of hachiya known as the “chocolate” persimmon. They have “a beautiful orange color with brown speckles and a darker flesh as well,” says Sullivan of Frog Hollow Farms. “They also have this caramel-y, almost butterscotch flavor that I love to eat with yogurt or cottage cheese.”
Which cultures eat persimmons?
Because of their origins and history, persimmons are closely tied to East Asian cultures.
“Persimmons are a hero fruit in Korea. They’re so beautiful, unique, and wide-ranging in flavor. They really represent the harvest culture in East Asian countries,” says Irene Yoo, the Korean-American chef behind the Brooklyn-based Korean comfort food channel Yooeating.
One of the most recognized traditions surrounding persimmons is hoshigaki, a centuries-old Japanese method of preserving the fruit that is also observed in China as shìbǐng and Korea as gotgam. The tradition consists of peeling persimmons before hanging them on strings and gently massaging the fruit every day for four to six weeks, until it forms a powdery white skin and its flavor has a deep, nuanced sweetness.
“Seeing dried persimmons was always such a significant cultural marker for me. I remember seeing my mom try to do it when I was a kid or watching people dry persimmons around this time of year when we’d go back to Korea,” says Yoo. “That jammy, candied dried persimmon flavor takes the fruit to a whole other level.”
In North America and Europe, persimmons are typically used in sweet recipes, like jams, breads, pies, and puddings. Persimmon pudding is particularly popular in the United States and is considered to be a specialty from the state of Indiana.
“My mom used to make cookies with hachiyas, and they were always so incredibly moist and spicy,” says Sullivan.
What do persimmons taste like?
“Persimmons have this beautifully delicate flavor that almost has a cantaloupe quality to it, both in color and sweetness,” says Yoo. “I also get hints of honey or squash, but in a more vegetable-like sense.”
If you research persimmon recipes, you might notice an abundance of warm spices on the ingredient lists. While these fall flavors are known to pair well with sweet persimmons, their notes naturally occur in the fruit’s pulp as well.
“Biting into a fuyu is similar to eating an apple, but with a spicier flavor that’s closer to a pumpkin, with some hints of cinnamon and nutmeg,” says Sullivan. “Hachiyas, however, are intensely sweet and remind me of a spiced, caramel jam.”
Which brings us to the flavor of unripe hachiyas, and astringent persimmons more generally: biting into one is absolutely not recommended. Unripe astringent persimmons contain high levels of tannins, naturally occurring chemical substances that give the flesh an overwhelmingly sour flavor. But they break down as the fruit ripens, turning it into something richly sweet.
“Leave your unripened persimmons on the counter for about a week before eating them,” Sullivan advises. “If you want to eat them sooner, try placing them somewhere warm or in a bag with something ripe to speed up the process.”
Non-astringent persimmons like the fuyu also contain tannins, but in much lower quantities, making them enjoyable to eat before they fully ripen.
How do you eat persimmons?
Since fuyus can be eaten while firm, you can bite into them like an apple, slice them up, or bake them into loaves, cookies, and cakes. Astringent persimmons such as hachiyas, on the other hand, feel like a water balloon filled with jelly when they’re ripe, which makes slicing them difficult. Therefore, it’s best to use a spoon to scoop out their pulp, which is ideal for recipes like compotes, jams, and pudding cakes.
Seems like there are plenty of ways to bake with persimmons, but what can you cook with them?
While persimmons are excellent in dessert recipes, they’re also great in savory dishes. They can be used to make vinegar, like Korean gamsikcho, which straddles the sourness of apple cider vinegar and persimmons’ sweetness. They can also be roasted until charred, pickled while still firm, added to salads, served alongside mild cheeses on a charcuterie board, cooked down to make dressings and marinades for meat, and even transformed into spiced drinks like Korean sujeonggwa.
“Sujeonggwa is my favorite way of enjoying persimmons,” says Yoo. “It’s a dried persimmon and cinnamon-infused tea that’s commonly served after dinner for aiding digestion or at Chuseok, Korea’s autumn festival. The cinnamon brings out its sweet fall flavor.”
Where can I buy persimmons?
Due to their seasonality, you’ll likely find persimmons in stores beginning in October. But if your local grocery store doesn’t carry persimmons, you can often find them in Asian supermarkets or farmers markets in persimmon-growing states like California, Virginia, or Florida.
But wait, is this really the only time of year that I can eat them?
Yep. Unlike other fruits that thrive in warm weather, persimmons are a fall crop that (depending on the variation) can ripen as early as mid-September and sometimes even stay on trees until the first few months of the following year. The ripening process usually takes place between mid-September and early November. The season generally lasts through December, and then they’re gone.
Can I just grow my own persimmon tree at home?
You sure can. Persimmon trees are relatively easy to grow and maintain due to their tolerance of different soil conditions. Budded or grafted trees typically yield the best results, but home gardeners can utilize cuttings, seeds, and suckers as well to get started.
If you do decide to grow your own, be sure to plant your tree in full sunlight and know which kind of persimmon tree you are growing. American persimmon trees require both male and female flowers since they are not self-pollinating. Asian persimmon trees, on the other hand, are self-pollinating and don’t require more than one tree to bear fruit. However, Asian and American trees cannot cross-pollinate, so make sure you know exactly what you’re planting in your backyard.
If persimmons are pretty easy to find, why don’t we hear more about them?
“I think people don’t really understand them yet. Or they may think of them as too astringent if they don’t wait long enough to eat them,” says Sullivan. That said, “there’s definitely an interest,” she adds, particularly given the uptick in people curious about seasonal eating. Frog Hollow’s own persimmon harvest has been great this year, Sullivan says. “We’re actually getting a lot of inquiries, with higher demand than supply. Especially for fuyus, the demand is growing.”
“I think persimmons are getting some more traction,” Yoo agrees. “As a kid, I’d see them in small pockets in America. So they’re there, and it’s something I’m definitely starting to see more in restaurants or cocktail making.”
It’s worth noting, too, that there are plenty of persimmon festivals scheduled annually across the country, from Indiana to North Carolina, California to Missouri; even if persimmons don’t have the widespread recognition of other fall foods, they still have plenty of dedicated fans.
And at this time of year, it’s easy to become one of them. Here are some sweet and savory options to get you started. Just don’t wait too long: The season is as short as it is delicious.
What We Miss When Vacation Rentals Become Contactless
November 29, 2021
Admin
0 Comments
Shared lodging like bed and breakfasts, boarding houses, and room rentals are falling out of favor, replaced by contactless, host-less vacation rentals. But at what cost?
As planes take off from Mohammed V International Airport just outside Casablanca, there are usually a few common souvenir items bouncing around the cargo hold: colorful Berber rugs, freshly dyed leather jackets, delicately patterned lanterns, tightly woven baskets, and other purchases from the souks. I, however, came back with boiled eggs. They weren’t packed away in the cargo hold; they were plastered in my memory. Okay, yes, I got a few rugs and a jacket too, but three years after my trip, my affection for boiled eggs is my most enduring souvenir.
I learned to love them in a creaky, overflowing Tangier riad, the home of my Airbnb host. The doting septuagenarian welcomed me and my partner after a long train ride from Madrid and a short ferry ride across the Strait of Gibraltar, plying us with sugary mint tea and stories until our weary eyes forced us off to bed. In the morning, we were presented with eggs in delicate cups, alongside stacks of fresh flatbreads like m’semen and khobz, tiny jars of jam with intricate metal serving spoons, fresh cheese, olives, and on and on.
In the months following my trip, I came away from Morocco eating a lot of olives and dates, telling friends about meals of mechoui and b’stilla, and showing off my rugs and jacket. But the eggs stuck around long after I had new stories and souvenirs to share. Their endurance in my mind has little to do with their flavor and everything to do with the gracious host who served them.
These sorts of prizes are the rewards of a good homestay, a term that can refer to any space shared between a host and a visitor, whether that’s getting cozy at a traditional bed-and-breakfast, renting a room inside someone’s house, or roosting in a trailer parked behind a family home. The key word here is “shared” — which is what separates a homestay from a standard vacation rental or hotel.
I tend toward homestays as a matter of preference, but a recent summer trip to Portland, Maine, where my family stayed in a remotely managed house, reminded me there are fundamental differences between sharing space and renting it outright. With intermittent texts from our host, the days played out like a series of treasure hunts: for the fuse box to reset a blown fuse (it was in a basement hidden by a trap door), for the coffee in the morning (we ended up running to a cafe), for an extra fan for a room without AC (we just propped the windows open). These small inconveniences added up to a larger conclusion: This would all be better if our host was around.
When it launched in 2008, Airbnb promised to digitize short-term rentals, convince more travelers to couch surf instead of booking a hotel room, make it easier for guests to find trustworthy hosts, encourage locals to open their homes and communities to strangers, and overall make travel feel more personal. While it struggled to find customers and funding in its early years, by pre-pandemic 2019, 54 million people booked 327 million nights with over 4 million hosts on Airbnb, according to an SEC filing. It scored a hugely successful IPO in late 2020, and in 2021 recorded its strongest quarter ever. Airbnb also came to dominate and dictate the market, becoming the focus of investment hubbub in the short-term rental industry and far outpacing competitors like Vrbo (now owned by Expedia) and Homestay.com. Though Vrbo launched nearly 20 years earlier than Airbnb, Airbnb boasts 5.6 million listings, almost three times as many as Vrbo’s 2 million.
There are companies that slowly attract customers by staying true to their original ideals; that’s not what happened here. Pivot after pivot reoriented Airbnb around the kind of impersonal travel it originally tried to fix, leading the industry by the nose away from a romantic conception of immersive travel toward a more segmented, anonymous experience mediated by technology. Airbnb’s identity began changing almost immediately after its founding; it expanded into “whole place” listings in 2009. More recently, the company has expanded luxury tiers for wealthy travelers more interested in private islands than futons, and incentivized hosts to add self check-in, which could earn hosts 13 percent more money for personally interacting with guests 100 percent less.
According to Inside Airbnb — an open-source platform run by community activist Murray Cox that tracks public data on the site’s listings — entire home/apartment listings outnumber “private rooms” (aka homestays) in all 26 American destinations tracked by the website. Entire homes make up the vast majority of listings in tourist hotspots like Nashville (88 percent), New Orleans (84 percent), and Hawai‘i (84 percent). The numbers are just as extreme in international hubs like Athens (87 percent), Paris (87 percent), and Copenhagen (85 percent). (Airbnb declined to provide data on numbers of each listing type on their website.)
Airbnb has also filled with professional renters over the years; on the eve of the company’s massive IPO, Bloomberg reported, nearly 30 percent of bookings were hosted by private companies rather than individuals. In many cities, Inside Airbnb notes that a majority of hosts offer multiple listings; while this could be homeowners renting out different rooms in the same property, the site notes, “Hosts with multiple listings are more likely to be running a business, are unlikely to be living in the property, and in violation of most short-term rental laws designed to protect residential housing.” Inside Airbnb estimates up to 60 percent of homes listed in some cities have no permanent occupants.
None of Airbnb’s moves were antithetical to old-fashioned homestays, but the company has stayed relevant by drifting away from its original conception — with real consequences. Whole house rentals have become the epicenter of disputes between residents and renters over “party houses,” leading the company to crack down on homes without permanent tenants. Some critics also point out landlords are now incentivized to evict long-term tenants, while some cities, including major tourist hubs like New York and Barcelona, have tried pushing back against the company by banning short-term rentals. It doesn’t seem so surprising to find a dystopian private theme park listed on the site.
By the time COVID shut down airports and upended the rental car industry last year, Airbnb had slipped well out of harm’s way. Despite reports heralding the company’s end in early 2020, it was actually perfectly positioned for pandemic-era travel. With a few new cleaning protocols here and a few more days between guests there, travelers (and investors) were happy to trust the company again. It wasn’t the end of Airbnb; it was the end of the original Airbnb — or it could have been.
There are places where Airbnb’s original vision is alive and well, like at Cynthia Upchurch’s house. She began renting rooms in her Fall Branch, Tennessee, home in 2020, during the pandemic. “It makes a difference to be made to feel comfortable, like you’re part of the family,” Upchurch says. She rises early on weekends to cook up feasts for the guests staying in her house, like one recent morning meal that included fried catfish, cheese grits, scrambled eggs, and toast with strawberry freezer jam from a friend’s farm nearby. Though she doesn’t include dinner as an amenity, if guests arrive late after a day of driving, Upchurch will save them a plate of whatever she’s making. “That’s why we stay full. We’ve got nothing but love and food for you.”
Food is a common selling point for homestays. Even as tech companies find ways to remove friction (aka human contact) from our daily eating routines — with job-stealing autonomous delivery robots, mobbed app-based automats, and cashierless grocery stores run by surveillance — most of us make exceptions while traveling because we know that locals are the best sources on their own cultures and foodways. The same person who fires up an app to avoid talking with a line worker at their local salad chain may go out of their way to strike up a conversation with their server at a diner in Sydney, steakhouse in Rio, or bakery in Beijing. “Do we really want to travel in hermetically sealed popemobiles through the rural provinces of France, Mexico and the Far East, eating only in Hard Rock Cafes and McDonald’s?” Anthony Bourdain asked in his 2000 book Kitchen Confidential. No, of course we don’t. We want to mingle with the people, to absorb the “local flavor.” We want to immerse.
Except, nobody wants to immerse in a pandemic; we want — or at least accept — electronic cocoons. According to vacation rental industry website VRM Intel, COVID has served as a great excuse for erecting digital barriers between guests and hosts in the name of hygiene. For several years, the booming “property tech” industry supplied rentals with plenty of toys: keyless locks, smart thermostats, noise monitors, video cameras, and every other remote monitoring system to make live hosts obsolete (while introducing another dilemma for Airbnb: hosts secretly recording guests).
Even as travelers have become more comfortable in 2021, a recent Morning Consult poll shows interest in home sharing has lagged behind boutique hotels and major hotel chains for months. While the poll didn’t specifically address remotely managed short-term rentals, it’s clear that most travelers are more game to return to anonymous, private travel than sharing space with strangers.
Before the pandemic, Maggie Odhner would give guests tours of her 300-year-old farmhouse in Lenhartsville, Pennsylvania. At the farmstay (a rural take on the homestay), Odhner considered herself and her husband Calvin as “part of the package deal,” even playing canasta with visitors. “Especially if I connected with a guest, I would make them breakfast too,” she says. “Now I don’t even have eggs in the kitchen.”
During the pandemic, the couple launched a “socially distanced special.” Like many 18th-century farms, their house had been expanded over the years. The Odhners segmented off a later addition with its own entrance for themselves, and allowed guests to have their run of the rest of the house. It cost three times the standard price — and Maggie says she missed seeing and talking with her guests — but it was a hit with travelers from New York and Philadelphia who needed an escape. While Maggie tried to keep up old habits, cooking breakfast for guests who wanted her around, it became too much work to clean out the fridge for social distance specials, so the couple built a separate kitchen in an out-building and began to dine separately.
Derek Rath doesn’t buy it. Since he began hosting on Airbnb, the architectural photographer has personally welcomed nearly every guest to a small additional dwelling unit in the back of his Venice, California, home. “I’ve been doing this for 10 years-ish, from back when Airbnb touted itself as ‘sharing your home,’ which is definitely not so much the case anymore,” he says. “It’s always been my sense that if you are going to share your home, and if a stranger is going to come into your home, then the more welcoming you can be, the better.” The same goes during the pandemic. Though he admits it can be awkward to negotiate health safety boundaries with each new guest, Rath’s particular setup has allowed him to continue chatting with guests in the shared yard area and providing (and receiving) tips on restaurants and entertainment. “I’ve pretty much carried on doing what I do but just outside rather than inside,” he says. “You can’t really avoid having some connection with people, so rather than try to avoid them, I’m trying to make it as nice as possible.”
Around the world, in Springfield, on the South Island of New Zealand, Isabella Irsigler has worked just as hard to make guests feel welcome through the pandemic. Like Rath, Odhner, and Upchurch, Irsigler has earned Airbnb’s designation as a superhost (which recognizes hosts who go above and beyond to provide superior stays) for running the Raven’s Nest, a Lord of the Rings-themed tiny home, with her husband Wayde Szumyn next door to their own home. The couple deliver “second breakfast” baskets and fresh cookies, decorate the house with flowers from the garden, supply gumboots and blankets, and light candles for guests arriving late.
Nevertheless Irsigler has still strained to satisfy guests, she explains, partly because Airbnb inflates expectations (and that’s coming from someone who runs a fantastical Hobbit house). “Guests don’t expect cheap and easy accommodations in somebody’s home, but a special experience in an outstanding place,” she says. “Usually our guests ‘get what we do’ and love the place, but then there are always some with special demands for more or with somewhat weird wishes. One guest found our trees aren’t cut the way he wants trees cut. Another found the knives not sharp enough. [Another] was unhappy the shower curtain touched her. Remembering how Airbnb started, I find the contrast harsh.” Irsigler has also been upset by the intensifying competition the company has encouraged between hosts, and finds the designation as a superhost to be a patronizing “pat on the head,” she says, “especially when I see how much Airbnb made through us.”
It’s not unreasonable to want privacy during a pandemic. Like many Airbnb users, I’ve spent more time in whole place rentals than homestays since March, 2020. But I’m concerned that the pandemic has permanently distorted our expectations and reinforced some bad habits, capping a decade-long trend away from chance interactions between travelers and hosts, moments that remind everyone about the human side of travel.
Post-pandemic (and post-IPO), Airbnb CEO Brian Chesky is predicting a travel revolution as work, travel, and daily life collapse into one unsettling mixture. Chesky is looking forward to more long-term stays, helping people live-work-travel for months at a time in houses around the world (and rent out their own apartments while they’re gone). This is great for digital nomads fleeing cubicles, but maybe not so great for homestay hosts, the ones still trying to help travelers live like a local. Do they have a place in the revolution?
Returning rentals to their roots in the sharing economy, putting hosts back in the house, might not prevent landlords from evicting tenants, party houses from annoying neighbors, or management companies from muscling out mom-and-pop renters — but it couldn’t hurt. In many cases, it also makes for a better vacation. But the disconnect between renters and hosts isn’t on an (ostensible) tech company to fix. It’s on guests to choose where to stay, whom to reward with their dollars, how many precious minutes of a trip to devote to connecting with a host, and how much food and drink to accept. It’s on us.
The pandemic could have signaled the end of the homestay and forever cemented remote management, self check-in, and full-house rentals as the norm. It didn’t, any more than it permanently eradicated offices, movie theaters, or restaurants. All of these spaces will look different after the pandemic, but their core elements endure. In the case of the vacation rental, that throughline is hospitality. We all just have to remember what it looks like.
“Soul Palate” podcast hosts Kapri Robinson and Denaya Jones-Reid recommend the best gifts for the spirits lover on your list
Due to either enduring months of closed bars or merely a wide availability of drinks expertise to draw from, it seems like more people are getting into making cocktails at home. And if you have a friend who greets you with an expertly made margarita or Negroni when you pop around, you may be interested in feeding their hobby with the perfect holiday gift. You could, of course, take a trip to the liquor store for a bottle of whatever their preferred spirit may be, but there’s a whole host of other items that make excellent gifts for the cocktail and spirits enthusiast.
For those ideas, I turned to Kapri Robinson and Denaya Jones-Reid who, as the hosts of the podcast Soul Palate, spend a lot of time thinking about cocktails. Robinson, a member of 2021’s Eater New Guard, is also the co-founder of cocktail competition Chocolate City’s Best, and Jones-Reid is the content curator at Chocolate City’s Best as well as the founder of Deestilled, which provides cocktail catering and education, and the director of operations for craft spirits retailer Seelbach’s. As they taste spirits and discuss how they navigate the hospitality industry, the podcast hosts aim to “normalize the Black and brown palate.” “We avoid sticking to the Eurocentric wheelhouse, the words that we’ve already been provided across the industry in terms of how to taste things and really just speak from a place of actual experience,” Jones-Reid says.
“We wanted to show that there’s lots of different ways to experience spirits, and that there’s no wrong answer to say what you’re tasting,” adds Robinson. Whether you’re looking for a gift for the cocktail novice or the seasoned hobbyist, here’s what they recommend giving this year.
For sipping
For stirring
Clear Ice Makers
Even the person who seemingly has everything is unlikely to have a clear ice maker, which controls the way ice freezes to produce large, clear ice cubes that won’t melt too quickly. Robinson says bar guests are consistently amazed at seeing crystal-clear ice in a cocktail. “Having clear ice at home is always just a plus,” says Robinson. “It’s everything. It makes your pictures better, and even if you’re hosting your friends, having clear ice really steps it up a notch.” She recommends two different ice makers, depending on your giftee’s preference for cubes versus spheres.
Vintage Glassware
Robinson recommends heading to your local thrift store for some beautiful vintage glassware. “It’s nice because there are usually unique pieces that you don’t really see a lot of,” she says. And when it comes to what kind of glassware to seek out, Robinson and Jones-Reid agree: Coupes make a great gift. “I keep an assortment of coupes in my house,” Jones-Reid says. “I’m over flutes.”
Robinson believes the best-looking coupes are the vintage ones found in thrift stores, and they’re versatile. “You can use coupes for Champagne, daiquiris, martinis, Manhattans, wine, even water if you really want to,” Robinson says.
The hosts also recommend seeking out some cute tasting glasses. “The trend is shifting from just throwing back shots to actually appreciating spirits,” Jones-Reid says. The friend who may have once collected shot glasses while on vacation could likely use a set of more elegant tasting glasses. “Stemmed, stemless, it doesn’t matter. I have different tasting glasses for different occasions.”
If you strike out locally, fear not; vintage glassware also abounds on the internet. The Instagram account @cute.sips is dedicated to showcasing and selling vintage glassware. Rosemary Home has an excellent selection that includes some very pretty options for both coupes and aperitif glasses. And there’s always Etsy.
The lifestyle veteran joins Vox Media from Condé Nast Traveler
Today Eater named Stephanie Wu as Executive Editor. Wu will oversee the editorial organization, including all writers, editors, and video creators. She’ll be a key partner to Eater’s EIC and SVP Amanda Kludt on building upon the publication’s editorial excellence and supporting the business and growth of the Eater brand.
“We have so many ambitions for Eater to evolve and grow as a leader in food journalism and are thrilled to have such a talented and thoughtful leader help us achieve those ambitions,” says Kludt. “Stephanie is a seasoned journalist who understands the nitty gritty of reporting and editing but also has the vision to lead us to the next phase.”
Wu will lead a team of over 60 writers, editors, and video creators across 25 cities in North America and the UK, leading the vision for the publication’s reporting and storytelling. She’ll work in partnership with Eater’s GM, VP of Development, and Director of Operations to align editorial initiatives with brand, business, and audience goals.
Wu comes from Condé Nast Traveler, where she was the digital director. She previously held editorial roles at Town & Country, Travel + Leisure, and Mic, overseeing lifestyle topics including food, travel, and culture. She is also the author of The Roommates: True Tales of Friendship, Rivalry, Romance, and Disturbingly Close Quarters (Picador).
She grew up in Taipei, Taiwan, and now lives in New York City.
A Tender Cardamom Coconut Sweet Potato Bread Recipe That Tastes Like the Holiday Season
November 29, 2021
Admin
0 Comments
Pumpkin may have a hold on fall festivities, but sweet potatoes deserve their rightful spot at the table too
There is no denying the hold the pumpkin spice everything has on American food culture during the fall. From lattes to cookies to ice cream to….kettle corn, pumpkin has taken over as the ingredient that people reach for to bring a bit of autumn festivity into their lives. But growing up as a Black child, pumpkin never really had much sway in my family’s home, and as an adult, it still doesn’t. During the holidays, there is absolutely no way you’ll ever see a pumpkin pie — or anything pumpkin — on our dining table. Instead, that treasured dessert designation is held by the unassuming sweet potato, which we bake into pies, cakes and even rolls.
This bread is my homage to the root vegetable that holds such a special place in my heart, both culturally and as a new mom. Sweet potato puree is the very first solid food I ever fed my baby girl, and this recipe is inspired by one of the meals I made in order to introduce her to new flavors.
In an effort to keep her meals interesting, and her palate hopefully on the more adventurous side, I decided to simmer sweet potato chunks in creamy coconut milk along with a few crushed cardamom pods for flavor. She loved them, and after tasting them, I did too. It made me think about what an amazing bread these flavors would make, especially with the holidays approaching. After a few failed attempts, I finally came up with a workable recipe that tastes like everything I love about sweet potatoes and the holiday season.
The loaf’s tender crumb has an unmistakably floral note thanks to the cardamom, while the coconut milk adds a touch of nuttiness. With a few pinches of cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice, it’s a treat that works just as well in the morning with a strong cup of coffee (or a pumpkin latte if you absolutely must) as it does as a dessert. It also holds up in the freezer if you want to prepare it in advance and drop a few loaves off to family and friends.
So while pumpkin may keep its strong hold on the fall, I’ll be enjoying this festive bread — and all things sweet potato — now and for the rest of the year.
Cardamom Coconut Sweet Potato Loaf Recipe
Makes 1 9x5-inch loaf
Ingredients:
1 good-sized sweet potato (about ¾ pound)
200 mL (½ of a 13.5-ounce can) coconut milk
2 cups (280 grams) all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon kosher salt
½ teaspoon apple pie spice *
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 cup (200 grams) brown sugar
¾ cup (150 grams) granulated sugar
½ cup neutral oil, such as canola, grapeseed, or sunflower
2 large eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Instructions:
Step 1: Peel the sweet potato and cut it into large cubes. Place it in a saucepan and add the coconut milk. Bring the mixture to a boil, then reduce the heat until it’s just high enough to maintain a good simmer. Cook uncovered, stirring a couple of times, until the sweet potato chunks are very soft and starting to break down, and the coconut milk is reduced to a thick glaze, about 25 minutes. Set aside to cool slightly.
Step 2: While the sweet potato cools, preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Coat a 9x5-inch loaf pan with nonstick spray or butter and flour.
Step 3: In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, apple pie spice, cardamom, and cinnamon. Set aside.
Step 4: When the potatoes have cooled, transfer them to a mixing bowl (or use a large bowl with a hand mixer) and whip until they break down to form a smooth, soft puree. Add the sugars, oil, eggs, and vanilla, and whip until smooth, scraping down the sides as needed.
Step 5: Add the dry ingredients, and mix on a low speed until well incorporated and no streaks or lumps remain (do not overmix).
Step 6: Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean, 60-70 minutes. Allow the loaf to cool in the pan for at least 20 minutes (or until cool enough to handle easily), then turn it out onto a rack and cool fully before slicing.
Note: If you don’t have apple pie spice, just use ¼ teaspoon cinnamon, ⅛ teaspoon nutmeg and ⅛ teaspoon allspice.
Ryan Shepardis an Atlanta-based food and spirits writer. She loves Mexican food, bourbon and New Orleans. Celeste Nocheis a Filipino American food, travel, and portrait photographer based between Portland, Oregon, and San Francisco. Recipe tested by Deena Prichep
Beyond Impossible: The Sanitarium and World War II Past of Meat Substitutes
November 24, 2021
Admin
0 Comments
We’ve come a long way from John Harvey Kellogg’s “protose cutlets”
It’s no stretch to say that fake meat is having a moment. With the popularity of brands such as Impossible Foods and Beyond Meat joining fast-food menus and grocery store aisles alike, plant-based meats are no longer seen as a sad option for vegetarians long denied flavor with meat substitutes (though, as we know, plenty of vegetarian food is packed with flavor), but for anyone who enjoys a good burger, fried chicken, or nuggets.
But are meat substitutes really the future of eating? Maybe by necessity as food resources run out, but not likely by choice. In fact, despite the big money raked in by Impossible and Beyond over the past few years, industrial meat consumption in America is actually on the rise.
This week on Gastropod, Cynthia Graber and Nicola Twilley see how the not-sausage gets made, with visits to the Impossible Meat lab and Meati, a Colorado-based start-up that’s developed a meat substitute made from mycelium, a protein found in mushroom roots.
Also discussed is the controversy in the Jewish and Muslim communities about the consumption of fake meat that still calls itself pork, and whether or not a meat substitute by any other the same meat name is halal or kosher. Then there’s the origins of fake meat. Again, we’re not simply talking tofu or seitan here — their origins date back centuries and they’re used in ways that go far beyond “how can this taste like chicken.” But what about products introduced as meat substitutes? One example, protose cutlets, was developed in the early 20th century at the Battle Creek Sanitarium — led by John Harvey Kellogg of eventual Kellogg’s cereal fame — in Michigan. During World War II, meat rations forced cooks to get clever and creative with products like Spam, which include some meat and a whole lot of filler.
Listen to the full episode to learn more, and to find out if meat substitutes really could be the future of eating.
From one die-hard Target fan, a guide to pulling off a single shopping trip for all your food-focused friends
When all other stores seem like too much work, when you don’t have the patience to match your loved ones to personality-appropriate brands, or when you plain forgot to do any holiday shopping at all, consider Target. Target, the place, is where you can roam and browse, reveling in the sheer delight of total anonymity and a gajillion celebrity collaboration products. But more often, at least in my case, Target is an admittedly busted mobile app, a tool for my phone-addicted mind to satisfy its scroll instinct while staying away from the Twitter hellscape. Honestly, I love it.
If you find yourself needing to maximize your holiday shopping efficiency, this is your store. The beauty of Target is that while it doesn’t have everything, it has a whole heck of a lot, and if you’re committed to getting all your presents in one fell swoop, it has exactly what you need.
From one die-hard Target fan, a guide to pulling off a single shopping trip for all your food-focused friends this holiday season:
Does That Crazy Sheet Pan Waving Trick on the ‘Great British Bake-Off’ Actually Work?
November 23, 2021
Admin
0 Comments
Frantically fanning a cake with a sheet pan to cool it down it is a staple of ‘Bake-Off’ lore. But what happens when you try it at home?
In the long and frankly relentless history of humankind as we know it, there are a few things that are certain: we all die, there is no escaping the tax man, and at some point in a season of The Great British Bake-Off, a rushed contestant will wave a baking sheet over a cake in order to get it to cool it faster. No matter the season, no matter the baker’s skill level, no matter the style of cake, there will inevitably be a delirious scramble to cool a cake through the velocity of a baking sheet and the sheer power of elbow grease.
At home, away from the stress of Noel Fielding’s hilarious and Matt Lucas’s obnoxious time calls, there is rarely a need to lower a cake’s temperature in under 20 minutes. But on Bake-Off, where time is as precious as a handshake from a hater, the bakers would have you believe that waving a cookie sheet over a dessert is a powerful and enigmatic form of witchcraft. The baking sheet waving trick has become such a staple of Bake-Off lore that on the first episode of Season 10 (objectively one of the best of all the seasons), when Michael Chakraverty sees Dan Chambers flapping a sheet over his fruitcake, he responds in awe, “He’s doing the thing! He’s doing the thing! Does it work?”
“No,” Chambers says, sounding hopeless. And yet, he persists.
Like any person who is hopelessly devoted to Bake-Off, certain things about the show plague me — Why on earth do they not just let them change clothes between day one and day two? When will Matt Lucas be put out to pasture? Why is Paul so Paul? When will the reign of black forest gâteau end? — but at some point, I could not let go of the fact that the sheet-pan waving thing was everywhere. Everyone does it so you’d have to assume it works — but does everyone do it because they’ve seen everyone else do it in previous seasons?
The only way to find out was through a highly unscientific trial.
First, a control. It wouldn’t be an episode of Bake-Off without a genoise sponge and Italian meringue buttercream, so for my first batch, I made both as normal. When the sponge had fully baked through, I removed it from the oven, let it cool in the tin for six or seven minutes, popped it from the springform onto a cooling rack, and stuck a ThermoWorks probe thermometer with a temperature alarm directly into the center. I watched patiently as it cooled, aiming for it to settle somewhere between 70 and 75 degrees within the hour. I kept watching. And kept hoping. And kept watching some more.
I was gobsmacked to learn that, without any intervention, it took my genoise sponge nearly two full hours to cool. Imagine a Bake-Off contestant waiting that long in a steaming hot tent in the dead of humid British summer for a cake to cool before stacking it high with various kinds of buttercream, tuile, meringue kisses, and tempered chocolate. There was no way that would be possible given the time constraints. But would the cookie sheet trick save me even an extra 20, even 10 minutes of time? I was skeptical.
For the experiment, I baked the exact same genoise sponge, at the exact same oven temperature, even pulling up a short stool to the window of my oven to watch its progress, before overheating and getting bored and deciding this was one move that Bake-Off contestants are motivated to do out of crazed, irrational desperation. (No offense, guys, but staring at your bake is a waste of already precious time.) When the timer went off, I stood the hot cake straight on top of a can, stripped it of its springform collar, flipped it onto a cooling rack, jabbed the thermometer probe in its center, and immediately began fanning it with a baking sheet like a berserk person.
And what do you know, something amazing happened. Within seconds, the temperature on the thermometer began to rapidly decrease while I furiously waved the baking sheet from a foot away. The cake temperature had started at 205 degrees, and while I huffed and puffed and waved, it dropped rapidly to an incredible 139 degrees thanks to the sheer force of my commitment. That’s a decrease of 66 degrees in 10 minutes! Compared to my first cake’s drop of 132 degrees over two excruciating long hours, that felt like nothing short of a miracle.
Sweating and exhausted, I decided that was enough — and far more than Bake-Off’s contestants would have time to do anyway — and switched to another common trick employed by the baking show’s competitors. I slid the cake into my freezer, dangling the thermometer probe — still suck in the center — out the door. Thirty minutes later, my cake had reached the exact same temperature as my control cake. My second genoise sponge was cooled in the third of the time it took for my first cake, and ready to be iced with what I admit was fairly shitty Italian buttercream. All those Bake-Off contestants waving baking sheets over their cakes weren’t just wildly hopeful, they were geniuses.
On a preview clip for the final episode of Bake-Off Season 12 — with the legendary lad Chigs, infectiously bubbly Crystelle, and headband-wearing Giuseppe — Chigs is seen employing the sheet-waving trick over a cake. I can’t guarantee that this means he’ll win that prized crystal cake plate at the end, but at least now we know it’ll absolutely give him a leg up.
Across the country, brick and mortar stores are opening to serve the needs of anyone looking for a fancy drink of something low-to-no proof
When Mel Babitz went to bars in her early 20s, she’d order one beer at the beginning of the night and hold onto it until she left. Babitz wasn’t much of a drinker — even a small amount of alcohol made her feel sick — but in the early 2010s, there just wasn’t much on tap for her to drink besides seltzer. “I would get my one [can of] PBR and no one would know it was the same one from hours ago,” she says. “Essentially, I was being underserved. I couldn’t go out and order something I wanted.”
For years, that didn’t change. Babitz worked at coffee shops and restaurants in Philly for many years, where she was given creative freedom to experiment. “I was always interested in what else to do besides put syrup in a latte,” Babitz says, so it was only natural that she experiment on herself, buying bottles of the few zero-proof spirits that were just hitting the market at the time, and making the nonalcoholic drinks that she wishes she could have ordered at bars. Before long, she was running pop-ups after hours at local coffee shops, where she would serve up cocktails without alcohol, learning along the way which new nonalcoholic batched cocktails were good, which nonalcoholic beers she liked, what nonalcoholic spirits paired well with which mixers. Babitz educated herself on a burgeoning array of drinks, expanding her knowledge of the nonalcoholic bottles on the market.
In May, Babitz decided to harness that knowledge by opening the Open Road in Pittsburgh, a bottle shop dedicated to selling only nonalcoholic beverages. She joins a small but growing list of business owners nationwide whose shops only sell bottles of wine, cans of beer, batched cocktails, spirits, and aperitifs that are 0.5 percent ABV or lower.
Over the past few years, beverage options for nondrinkers, the sober-curious, and those who just want to expand their drink options past booze have gone from the musty memory of O’Doul’s to hundreds of options, from beers and wines to spirits, aperitifs, and batched cocktails, either dealcoholized versions of the original or novel inventions. Following a wave of bars dedicated to zero-proof cocktails, nonalcoholic bottle shops tend to focus on batched cocktails in artfully designed bottles, wine proxies made with ingredients like caramelized pear, and so-called functional beverages infused with CBD, ginger, and turmeric — the brands really targeting the person who wants to drink without drinking.
When many of the best-known nonalcoholic beverages are highly marketed, Instagram-targeted, direct-to-consumer products, it might seem counterintuitive to open a brick-and-mortar space to sell what people can easily buy online. But owners of nonalcoholic bottle shops don’t agree.
Nick Bodkins, founder of Boisson, a nonalcoholic bottle shop with three locations in New York City, says relying only on e-commerce means customers have a higher likelihood of ordering something they hate. “[At wine shops], you go and you discover new producers and talk to people that know what they’re actually selling in there,” Bodkins says. He doesn’t think nonalcoholic shops need to reinvent that wheel. “Our retail component is massive because it allows us an opportunity to educate our customers.”
For shop owners, that education often comes from a place of obsession. For over 20 years, Danny Frounfelkner, co-owner of Sipple, a nonalcoholic bottle shop in Houston, worked in the hospitality industry. Frounfelkner grew up near Napa Valley, so “caught the wine bug pretty young,” he says. He worked as a beverage director, a sommelier, and director of operations at City Orchard Cidery in Houston, but when Frounfelkner was furloughed from his job during the pandemic, he saw an opportunity to try out something else.
Frounfelkner had cut back on his drinking a lot before the pandemic even started. “I had a very unhealthy relationship with alcohol, something that came from family stuff, conditioning, but also being a beverage director,” he says. “I had wine breath at 10 a.m. almost every day.” So when his job was put on hold, his professional and personal lives collided at the same time. As he saw the nonalcoholic beverage trend boom, he realized, “I can still nerd out on beverages and not have to focus on alcohol.”
Sipple started as an e-commerce website in January, then officially opened as a brick-and-mortar bottle shop in Houston in October — reportedly the city’s first. The shop is near Rice University’s campus, a decision Frounfelkner says he and his co-founder Helenita Frounfelkner made on purpose. “I know that the younger crowd — people in college and out of college — are pushing this movement and category forward.” Even so, Frounfelkner says Sipple sees customers from between their early 20s to mid-70s — all of whom offer any range of reasons when asked about why they’ve decided to shop there.
The most interesting challenge for Frounfelkner so far has been talking to people who have never tried alcohol. “A Mormon couple [came in] who had never even had a drink before,” he says. “How do you explain what wine tastes like? I kind of went into a whole different realm: ‘Do you drink water, soda, tea, coffee? What flavor profiles do you like?’ Finally after some digging, we got there.”
Shop owners also note that many customers are in recovery. It’s important owners and staff understand and explain which beverages still have a small amount of alcohol in them. “.5 percent ABV is roughly the alcohol content of a ripe banana,” Babitz says. “A lot of things that we consume in the food space have an alcoholic content we don’t think of: rye bread, sourdough, orange juice.” But for the people who come to the Open Road who want to not have any alcohol at all, Babitz knows which bottles to steer them toward.
“The top two questions I get are, ‘Is this stuff actually good?’ and ‘What’s the best thing?’” says Jillian Barkley, owner of nonalcoholic bottle shop Soft Spirits in Los Angeles. Since she opened the shop in September, she’s noticed some pushback on social media. “People on the internet are always going to have things to say. I hear a lot of, ‘What’s the point of this, who would want this, this is just juice.’ But I think with anything new, people tend to resist it, or not understand it.”
Like many physical spaces that exist outside of the mainstream, bottle shops are not just places for commerce: They also can be community spaces for people who don’t feel comfortable at bars or other forums where alcohol is present.
“The idea of nonalcoholic beverages can seem intimidating to a lot of people. I wanted to make sure that anyone who comes through our doors feels welcome no matter who they are,” says Apryl Electra Storms, co-owner of Minus Moonshine, a nonalcoholic bottle shop that opened in June in Brooklyn. As a queer nonbinary person, Storms says that they have historically tried to cultivate or be a part of spaces where they feel safe to be themselves, which translates to how they run the shop. “It can feel overwhelming to walk into a new place especially when you’re not drinking. There’s no social lubricant, so to speak.”
Storms hopes their shop can ease that awkwardness. “This is a really great space to have everyone together because we all have this one thing in common,” Storms says. Briefly, they ask if they can put me on hold — a customer has just walked into the shop. In the background, the customer — who is coming into Minus Moonshine for the first time — says to Storms, “I’m so happy you’re here!”
From Basque chorizo to huckleberry ice cream, wine trails to mountaintop picnics, here’s everything you need to know about wining and dining in Idaho’s Snake River Valley
Since it earned the nickname the Gem State, Idaho has been attracting fortune-seekers who see untapped value in the West. During the first six months of the COVID-19 pandemic, new residents flocked to the state, giving it the biggest pandemic population bump in the nation.
The capital, Boise, has led the boom (with a surge in housing prices to match), as remote workers migrated east from the Bay Area and the Pacific Northwest in search of more space, cheaper rent, and a quieter lifestyle. New residents brought infusions of cash and interest, but they’re building on the area’s endearing underlying character. Boise is funky, cool, and friendly, while the surrounding foothills and nearby Boise National Forest put the great outdoors at the city’s doorstep. Plus there’s a thriving food scene powered by a strong Basque community and chefs quickly gaining national recognition. And then there’s wine. Really great wine.
Idaho is considered a newbie on the U.S. wine scene. Some of the first grapes planted in the Pacific Northwest were grown in Lewiston in 1864 — about three decades before statehood — but it took until 2007 for the federal Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau to approve the Snake River Valley as the state’s first American Viticultural Area (AVA). Over a thousand miles long, the Snake River was formed more than 4 million years ago, overlaying the prehistoric Lake Idaho bed that creates the valley’s boundaries. The AVA centers on a stretch of southwestern Idaho with the largest density of vineyards and wineries, along with bits of eastern Oregon. At 8,000 square miles, it dwarfs Napa and Sonoma, which together have 34 AVAs packed into just 2,500 miles.
The designation, which put Snake River on par with more established wine regions, couldn’t have come soon enough. In recent years winemakers have transplanted from California to apply their experience in the up-and-coming region — but there are also a lot of Idaho natives among the vintner ranks, including some on land handed down for generations. Overall, the Idaho wine industry feels refreshingly direct and laid-back compared to the exceedingly polished scenes in California and Oregon.
The Snake River Valley winemaking community is young, but vintners make up for their lack of years with ambition and energy. You won’t find a lot of pretension or stuffiness. You will find a lot of downright delicious wine. Here’s your guide to everywhere you should drink, eat, and stay in the nation’s buzziest new wine region.
What to know before you go
Basque Block: Boise is home to one of the largest communities of Basque Americans, including some who trace their roots back to a wave of Basque immigrants in the 19th century. Get your fill of chorizo, pintxos, and paella in downtown’s Basque Block.
Boise: You’re probably saying “Boy-Z” when really it’s pronounced “Boy-See.”
Sunnyslope Wine Trail: Visitors looking for great wine should start with this collection of 17 wineries and vineyards. Located about 30 miles west of Boise, the trail works its way through Meridian, Nampa, and Caldwell.
Ste. Chapelle:The first Idaho winery to open after Prohibition, Ste. Chapelle was like the big bang for the region’s wine industry when it opened in 1975. The winery is still kicking too, earning awards and national attention.
Huckleberry: This small berry is Idaho’s state fruit, so you’ll see it on menus across the region. Similar to a blueberry, the huckleberry is more sweet than tart, especially when baked or cooked. Look out for huckleberry salad dressing, ice cream, cocktails, and even as a glaze for beef and other meats.
Potatoes: You probably associated Idaho with this tuber long before grapes, and for good reason. The state harvests 13 billion pounds every year, 90 percent of which are russet potatoes.
Fry Sauce: This simple mix of ketchup and mayo is excellent for dipping fried spuds. Its given name in Boise is slightly more dignified than Heinz’s “mayochup.”
Syrah, Viognier, Riesling: Grape growers plant lots of varieties, but syrah, viognier, and riesling excel in Idaho, which is on the same latitude as the Rhone Valley in France and Rioja in Spain. Plus, with California’s vines under the very real threat of frequent wildfires, Idaho is becoming a go-to for varietals like chardonnay and merlot.
Garden City: Located across the river from downtown Boise, Garden City has become an increasingly popular area for small wine producers to set up shop — including a few folks who make some of the best bottlings in the region. From downtown Boise you can jump in a car and be there in about 10 minutes.
The Greenbelt: This beloved urban trail celebrated its 50th birthday in 2019. The paved pathway snakes along the river and connects downtown Boise to Garden City, with plenty of wineries, restaurants, and green space along the route. Though it’s a tourist hot spot, you’ll also see plenty of locals fishing and zipping by on bikes and scooters.
Where to drink
The eponymous Snake River supplies the region with abundant water, while its ancient volcanic sediment makes fertile, well-draining soils that give grape growers greater control. Cold winters also allow vines to go dormant (naturally ridding plants of pests and disease), while the combination of a dry climate, hot days, and cold nights balances the fruit’s acids and sugars. All that adds up to beautiful, laser-focused wines worth a serious tour.
Sunnyslope: The gorgeous tasting room at Koenig Vineyards is a must-visit. Take a seat on the expansive patio or start up a game of life-size chess as you sip the dry rosé (a juicy blend of sangiovese and merlot grapes) or cabernet sauvignon (full of vanilla and cherry). Climb the tower out front to enjoy views of the vineyards when you’re done. Sawtooth Winery and Ste. Chapelle are next door to each other and feature the same winemaker, Meredith Smith. Both boast tasting rooms overlooking lovely vistas and serve wines that aren’t readily available elsewhere. Look for the Trout Series at Sawtooth, and Panoramic and Treasure Valley Series at Ste. Chapelle. Patio-hop your way to Hat Ranch for a lively afternoon scene. As you admire the rows of grapes behind the tasting room, you’ll notice hats of all different shapes and sizes adorning the fence posts — a quirky nod to the winery’s name. Winemaker Tim Harless also produces for the Vale Wine Company, which is available to try at the tasting room.
Garden City: Owners and winemakers Carrie and Earl Sullivan started Telaya Wine Co. as a way to work together (Earl was previously the COO of a pharmaceuticals company and Carrie a veterinarian). Now their tasting room is one of the most popular spots on the Greenbelt. On nice days, every table on the patio is occupied by wine drinkers (and their dogs) watching the action on the Greenbelt, maybe with a glass of 2020 Aman II “Clash,” a blend of Idaho-grown gruner Veltliner and viognier that has tangerine and tropical notes. On cooler afternoons, you can stay toasty by one of the firepits or by sipping the winery’s Turas bottling, which hits the sweet spot between earthy, fruity, and spicy. If you’re a fan of pet-nats, co-fermentation, and funky, experimental wine styles, check out Split Rail Winery. In the tasting room, you might find a Spaghetti Western playing on TV while the Cramps drift through the speakers. Winemaker Jed Glavin uses locally grown grapes and doesn’t often make the same wine twice, and he finishes in concrete eggs and sandstone vessels along with the usual oak barrels. Finally, Cinder Wines owner and winemaker Melanie Krause named her winery after the Snake River Valley’s volcanic soil. The vast tasting room has outdoor and indoor seating where groups gather for guided wine and chocolate pairings.
Buhl: On the eastern tip of the Snake River Valley AVA, Holesinsky Vineyard & Winery makes excellent rosés and a smooth, rich pinot noir. The energy is young and fun, and they host frequent wine-centric events like outdoor movie nights, yoga classes, and a yearly harvest party and grape stomp with live music and food trucks.
Boise: Caldwell’s Scoria is run by Sydney Nederend, who started planting vines in 2014 (at the age of 21) on her family’s volcanic-rich, century-old farmland. She quickly established a local reputation for great grapes. If you can’t make it out to the vineyard, check out the tasting room in Boise, which boasts the sleekest design in the city, where groups of relaxed locals hang for hours over bottles of chardonnay and estate merlot. Coiled Wines has a tasting room and production facility in Garden City, but you’re better off pulling up to the bar at the downtown tasting room where you can enjoy small plates, happy hour specials, and the vibrant, friendly crowd.
Where to eat
Boise: As Idaho’s biggest city, Boise is the gravitational center for the state’s culinary scene. Just look at Kin, where the tasting menu offers a fresh, modern spin on fine dining, complete with a cocktail hour in the lounge before a seasonal five-course meal with optional wine pairings. White subway tile, velvet banquettes, and floor-to-ceiling windows set the scene over at Trillium, the all-day restaurant inside Boise’s Grove Hotel. You can pair your locally sourced bison meatloaf or huckleberry-dressed smoked trout Cobb salad with a great Manhattan or a pick from the Idaho section of the wine list. The Wylder specializes in pizza made with a 50-plus-year-old sourdough starter, veggie sides like cacio e pepe street corn, and excellent cocktails.
If you’re after some classic meat and potatoes, check out Chandlers, a steakhouse adjacent to Hotel 43, where the move is Snake River Farms American wagyu paired with the restaurant’s famed 10-Minute Vesper (submerged in an ice bath to make it extra crisp). Or try local favorite Barbacoa Grill, which specializes in open-fire cooking and tableside theatrics — think made-to-order guacamole and filet mignon served with flaming cognac sauce. Boise Fry Company lets you customize spuds by potato and cut (we like the curly yam fries) and also serves a variety of burgers that range from bison to vegan.
Taco lovers have two great options. At the Funky Taco, try the crispy, panko-dusted cauliflower tacos and a plate of fried rice nuggets, which are dressed with shaved fennel, pickled cucumber, mayo, and homemade chile crisp. And at Madre Boutique Taqueria, chef John Cuevas gives tacos his own spin with preparations like sweet and sour carnitas and al pastor with blue cheese and mojo.
Although Boise is a hub for meat, Lemon Tree Co. turns out some of area’s best plant-based sandwiches, like a massaman curry banh mi with yams and mushroom, or an artichoke cheesesteak. Before relocating to Idaho, Kibrom Milash and Tirhas Hailu operated a restaurant at the Shimelba refugee camp in Ethiopia’s northern Tigray region. Now they’re serving traditional East African cuisine at Kibrom’s Ethiopian & Eritrean, where a veggie plate served with injera is one of the best meals in the city.
You can’t visit Boise without stopping by the Basque Block. The Ansotegui family of Ansots Basque Chorizos has been in Idaho for more than a century. Their chorizo plate is a must and pairs perfectly with patatas bravas, marinated peppers with anchovies, and a glass of Spanish wine from the well-rounded list. The Basque Market, which sells Basque ingredients and wine, also serves expertly made pintxos, as well as big pans of paella on the patio every Wednesday and Friday at noon. Stop by Bar Gernika’s corner patio for a cold beer and the Boise-famous lamb grinder.
In the morning, go for Guru Donuts, where specimens emerge with lightly crisp exteriors and pillowy centers, as well as gluten-free doughnuts made with Idaho potato flour. Ā Cafe serves hearty scrambles and Acme Levain toast topped with avocado and veggies or butter and homemade fruit compote. Come to Neckar Coffee for expertly made cappuccinos, cortados, and pour overs, and don’t miss the not-too-sweet house-made oat and buckwheat granola with einkorn berries and white miso. Certified Kitchen and Bakery is known for sandwiches served on pillowy English muffins crafted from a 52-year-old sourdough starter. Kick back for a lazy lunch on the patio at Diablo & Sons Saloon, where you can pair a chimichurri steak salad, crispy chicken sandwich, or oyster and bacon tacos with a glass of Idaho wine.
After dinner, stop by the STIL (which stands for Sweetest Things in Life), which serves homemade ice cream with a nice roster of traditional and dairy-free flavors. Don’t miss boozy varieties like honey bourbon and red sangria. Meanwhile, pastry chef Moshit Mizrachi-Gabbitas helms the delightful Janjou Pâtisserie, serving croissants, fruit tarts, and flan parisien.
When you need a break from wine, head to the Modern Bar for tasty snacks and creative libations, like Midnight to Midnight (like if an Italian amaro met a pineapple daiquiri), and Iceberg Slim (a delicious combo of gin and macadamia nut). Ride a secret elevator to Press & Pony (the bar will send you instructions when you make a reservation) for signature drinks like the Turn Off Your Blinker, made with rye, grapefruit, raspberry-rhubarb oleo-saccharum, Peychaud’s bitters, and cherry.
Garden City: If you need nourishment while exploring the Greenbelt, Push & Pour has a small but mighty menu of sandwiches, coffee, and other provisions. The iconic Stagecoach Inn hasn’t changed much since it opened in 1959, and the restaurant is still known for its crispy hand-breaded prawns, prime rib, and steak and beans.
Caldwell and Meridian: If you need to fill up on your way to the Sunnyslope Wine Trail, stop by Amano. The restaurant is inspired by chef-owner Salvador Alamilla’s upbringing in Michoacán, Mexico, and Southern California, and it features dishes like mole coloradito and braised lengua tacos, all on tortillas made in house from heirloom Oaxacan corn. The beverage menu leapfrogs between agave spirits and local Idaho wines. Or go for Grit, which serves American comfort food like lemon-brined fried chicken and a bacon-jam grilled cheese on sourdough. Though it’s outside the Basque Block, Epi’s has been serving Basque food west of Boise for 20 years, since it was founded by sisters Christi and Gina Ansotegui. You can’t go wrong with seasonal specials like crab toast or solomo, baked pork loin topped with pimentos, and garlic chips.
Twin Falls and Hagerman: It’s worth a day trip southeast of town for the scenery (and a visit to Holesinsky Vineyard in Buhl). For a delicious meal with sweeping views of the surrounding area, snag a patio table at Elevation 486, where the menu focuses on steaks, chops, and fish from local purveyors, as well as Idaho wine and spirits. Snake River Grill is known for its alligator bites and Idaho sturgeon.
Where to picnic
One of the best things about visiting Boise is getting to experience the surrounding nature, and you don’t have to travel far outside the city to enjoy it. Grab breakfast or lunch takeout and a bottle from your favorite winery, and head to one of these locales to enjoy your meal in the great outdoors.
Idaho Botanical Garden: Nestled in the Boise foothills, this lush 15-acre garden features beautiful flora, sculptures, and a shaded meditation garden with a koi pond.
Camel’s Back Park: This 11-acre park has several trail systems, and a short uphill climb offers sweeping views of the city.
Esther Simplot Park: Bike or walk along the Boise Greenbelt to reach Esther Simplot Park and Quinn’s Pond where you can swim, paddleboard, and kayak.
Table Rock Trail: Save this unshaded, 3.7-mile hike for a cool, clear day when you’ll be able to catch a breeze and great views of Boise and the surrounding area.
Shafer Butte Loop: If you have access to a car, drive one hour north into the Boise National Forest to enjoy this scenic 5.2-mile loop.
Where to stay
Boise has a number of great boutique hotels that offer local flavor. The Grove Hotel (starting at $169 per night) features sizable, well-designed rooms, a huge fitness center with lap pool, and one of the best meals in town at lobby restaurant Trillium. Expect friendly service and charming, cozy accommodations at Hotel 43 (starting at $188 per night), which is connected to steakhouse Chandlers (steak and martini room service, anyone?). Modern Hotel and Bar (starting at $93 per night) is a renovated Travelodge with a minimalist, midcentury design, a fabulous complimentary breakfast, and some of the tastiest cocktails in town.
Amanda Gabriele is an avid eater, cook, martini lover, and vintage glassware enthusiast. She writes about food, booze, and travel, and you can follow her adventures on Instagram@amandameatballs.
0 comments: