Fungi-Curious

Mushrooms need no introduction around here, but I realize that in many kitchens, they still do. People who profess a distaste for mushrooms tend to think of white button mushrooms, the most common supermarket specimen that do no justice to the fungi kingdom. Bland, rubbery, and watery when cooked, it’s no wonder why most people cite the texture as being the biggest turnoff. However, that’s like dismissing all chocolate because you once ate a stale Tootsie Roll. The world of mycology is vast, wonderful, weird, and wildly misunderstood.

Oyster mushrooms are the gateway mushroom, if you ask me, capable of converting the skeptics. Frilly, delicate, and almost floral in appearance when raw, they undergo a complete personality transformation once introduced to heat. Their edges crisp and caramelize like shredded carnitas, while maintaining an almost buttery interior. They shred beautifully, drink in marinades with an unquenchable thirst, and can swing from smoky barbecue to spicy curry without missing a beat.

Fungitarian Packages in All Five Flavors

With this strong foundation, Fungitarian by Windy City Mushroom is bridging the gap between mushroom skeptics and obsessives alike. Built around organically grown oyster mushrooms, these ready-to-eat meal starters let mushrooms shine, flexing their umami prowess to full effect. Randomly stumbling upon the frozen packages one day at Sprouts, I knew I couldn’t leave without a full cart.

Mushroom Toast

Don’t mistake the Original for being simple based on its versatility. Simmered in white wine with a garlic-forward finish, the short list of ingredients comes together with remarkable complexity. Being so adaptable doesn’t mean it lacks personality, it means it knows exactly when to step forward and when to let everything else shine. No dish is off limits nor any cuisine out of bounds. Fold it into creamy risotto, heap it onto sourdough toast with avocado, toss it into pasta, or crisp it in the air fryer and eat it like fried potato sticks. We’d be here all day if I kept listing serving suggestions.

Basic Bean Tacos

Taco, meanwhile, was made with a clear destination in mind. Smoky chipotles impart warmth without overwhelming the coriander, cumin, and oregano seasoning blend. It practically begs to be swaddled in charred tortillas with slabs of avocado and a reckless amount of salsa verde. Any of your Mexican and Tex-Mex favorites are candidates for this inclusion, from appetizers to the main event. Stuff it into burritos, quesadillas, enchiladas, gorditas, or directly into your mouth using tortilla chips as edible shovels.

Snap Pea Stir Fry

Asian food is a broad category that’s difficult to elegantly define. Asian Zing understood the assignment. Ginger, garlic, soy sauce, and just enough sweetness create a glossy, punchy flavor bomb that feels tailor-made for rice bowls, stir-fries, noodles, or lettuce wraps. The oyster mushrooms soak it all up beautifully, becoming intensely savory little umami sponges with crisp edges and chewy centers. Cooked simply, as packaged, it’s still delicate enough not to upset the balance of fresh vegetable sushi, while the addition of bird’s eye chilies make it an ideal fit for fiery Thai pad kra pao.

Backyard BBQ Sandwiches

BBQ is serious business around here and this one doesn’t mess around. Smoky in a natural way that sings of smoldering hickory, there’s genuine heat to the seasoning rather than the usual sticky sweetness I’ve come to expect. Saucy and just messy enough to require extra napkins, it takes a big swing and lands the hit with every bite. Piled onto a toasted bun with crunchy slaw, it channels full summer cookout energy without needing a grill, a smoker, or your uncle Greg insisting he “knows meat.” I bet he could even be fooled for their facility in mimicking pulled pork or shredded brisket texture, while tasting unmistakably better, containing the savory depth most people spend hours trying to coax out of a hulking primal cut.

Creamy Polenta with Mushroom Ragu

I was surprised to hear from the founder that Marinara proved more complicated to explain than others. Not a full sauce, it could be transformed into one with crushed tomatoes and a luxurious slow simmer on the stove, but they stand alone as marinara-flavored meatless morsels. As such, it’s an ideal addition to dishes that would drown if given all that additional liquid. Spoon it over soft polenta, layer it into lasagna, stuff it into baked shells, or bake it with penne and plenty of vegan cheese to give any of the classics a considerable upgrade.

The beauty of Fungitarian is that any of the designated flavors are more suggestions than rigid rules. Seamlessly sliding between different foodways, you could easily infuse a bit of taco spice into your favorite pasta and red sauce, while marinara could be the start of your next great tikka masala. It’s an ideal springboard for inspiration when your short on ideas and big on hunger, or the foundation for greater culinary creativity. Although I almost splashed out and ate my whole stash without venturing into the realm of recipes, there was one idea that was calling me from the start: the French Dip Sandwich.

Stretching the Original with thinly shaved super-firm tofu gives you even more to love, not to mention more surface area to soak in marinade. Lightly caramelized and loaded into crusty bread, then draped with melted vegan cheese, I dare you to find me a mushroom hater when these babies are on the table. I also question the sanity of the person who first looked at this and decided to dunk the whole mess in leftover pan drippings to make sure every bite was sopping wet, but you know what, I respect the choice and dutifully follow suit. Au jus is a beautiful thing, and I found that I do, in fact, appreciate a sandwich utterly soaked, through and through, with pure umami excess.

I love seeing plants in meat-dominated fields. Reclaiming recipes long treated as inaccessible to vegans, oyster mushrooms strike me as a natural evolution of the centerpiece. Don’t call it an imitation when mushrooms are the real asset that can’t be matched.

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Crowd Control

I can’t lie: I’m a sucker for a good pun. My sense of humor vacillates between dad jokes and caustic wit, but I can never resist a solid groaner. That brings me to the obvious need to turn crowder beans into chowder. The moment I started cooking with them, I knew that Crowder Chowder was inevitable, if only for the irresistible name.

Don’t worry, it’s more than just a fun rhyme. As with any proper chowder, the base is thick and creamy, making for a hearty bowl-in-one type of meal. Packed with potatoes and sweet corn, the crowder beans contribute an earthy meatiness, to say nothing of all their protein and fiber, without a single clam in sight.

Plenty of chowder recipes employ beans, especially white beans for their fairly neutral flavor, so it’s not like I’m breaking any new ground here. Crowder peas, however, may take some eaters by surprise this unconventional setting. Since they usually show up in straightforward company, simmered with onions, maybe a hunk of cornbread nearby, seeing them in more composed recipes could turn some heads. Lack of mainstream recognition further limits their range, unfairly, if you ask me. Anything white beans can do, the humble field pea can do, too.

Fully validated by the success of this experiment inspired by word play, Crowder Chowder is exactly the sort of recipe that makes a terrible pun feel justified. The name might make you roll your eyes at first, but one spoonful quickly changes the tone of the conversation. Sometimes the best ideas just sound silly on paper.

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Pea’s A Crowd

Staring down the bag labeled blandly as “field peas,” culled from the brightly lit grocery store shelf, I knew there was more to the story. Encompassing dozens of different legumes, field peas are a catch-all term for any Southern bean grown amongst the crops, as opposed to the home garden. That means you could grab a package of so-called field peas and find black-eye peas, lady peas, cream peas, purple hull peas, or zipper peas staring back at you, all under the same label.

This particular bundle was different though, which is why it caught my eye. Tiny as grains of uncooked brown rice, unlike any bean I had cooked before, I decided to buy first, ask questions later. Only after exhaustive research could I give my new prize a more accurate name: Crowder Peas.

What Exactly Are Crowder Peas?

As part of the field pea family, also known as cowpeas or Southern peas, crowder peas hail from Africa, brought to the US along with enslaved peoples. Through their skilled hands, agriculture thrived, using these heirloom beans to add nitrogen to the soil, enduring through extreme heat and drought alike.

Crowder peas come by their name quite literally, each pod being “crowded” with many peas as they grow. There are many varieties of crowder peas, too, including Mississippi Silver, Dixie Lee, Cream Peas, Zipper Peas, and more; some are rounded while others are fairly flat, varying from brown to white but shades may vary. If you’re looking for a single definitive example of the legume, you’re going to be disappointed. Harvested in the late summer, you’re unlikely to find them fresh, unless you live within a few miles of where they’re grown. More likely than not, you’ll find them dried year round, and occasionally canned.

Crowder Peas: Always In Good Taste

The mysterious crowder peas that I purchased reminded me visually of tiny tepary beans; dark, firm, and robust. They’re a bean-lover’s bean, loud and proud, earthy, starchy, sometimes nutty, and always savory. Where black-eyed peas can taste bright and grassy, crowders are deeper and more grounded. The rounder varieties may be a bit creamier, but all are built to withstand long stews and braises. That potlikker is a prize all by itself, slightly thickened and dark as red wine. Traditionally seasoned with a simple array of onions, garlic, paprika, and often ham, you’d be crazy to think about draining it away.

Crowder Pea Nutrition? Bean There, Done That

Between you and me, I wish we could skip the section on nutrition for these bean deep-dives because they’re all starting to read the same. Unsurprisingly, they’re high in protein and fiber, B vitamins, folate, magnesium, and iron. Spoiler alert: there is no such thing as an unhealthy legume. Next!

Cooking Crowder Peas

Dried crowder peas are a pantry gift, especially in cooler months when fresh produce feels scarce. Soaking them for several hours, or overnight, shortens the cooking time and encourages even tenderness, though it’s not strictly required.

  • Stove Top: If soaked in advance, crowder peas take about 1 – 1 1/2 hours to cook, covered by at least 1 inch of water and gently simmered. Check on the water level and add more if too much evaporates during the process. If unsoaked, it can take closer to 2 hours on the heat.
  • Pressure Cooker: This is my method of choice because it requires no soaking and is still done in less time. Cover crowder peas with at least 2 inches of water and cook on high pressure for 20 minutes. Allow the pressure to release naturally.

Only after cooking should you add salt. Drain or enjoy along with the potlikker, as is most traditional. Note that those who sometimes have trouble digesting beans would be better served to drain the liquid, which contains a considerable amount of the oligosaccharides (raffinose and stachyose) responsible.

Crowd-Sourcing Serving Suggestions

Crowder peas would be out of place on a complex plate. They’re at their best when seasoned simply, nestled besides humble staples like stewed greens, rice, mashed potatoes, cornbread, or even plain old buttered white bread. Made for big pots, long simmers, and recipes designed to stretch across days, they’re deeply rooted in Southern culture, especially in rural and agricultural communities where field peas were a staple crop. A few traditional uses include:

  • Field Peas & Snaps: Contrary to the modern interpretation that employs green beans, “snaps” refers to the whole pea pods that are too tender to shell, simply snapped in half and cooked together with the peas.
  • Hoppin’ John: While black-eyed peas have become the favored bean for this fortuitous dish, older recipes made no qualms about using whatever field pea was at your disposal. The beans are meant to represent coins, paired with the greens for money, coalescing into a blessing for wealth in the New Year. That wouldn’t change whether your beans had black eyes or not.
  • Chilled Summer Salad: Be it a picnic or potluck, the humble crowder pea will serve you well. Since they hold their shape after cooking, they’re prime candidates for the salad treatment, often tossed in a mustardy vinaigrette with tomatoes, bell peppers, onions, and more.

For more inspiration, look to the ever-popular black-eyed pea. It’s the most common field pea on the market, leading to a great wealth of recipe ideas. From soup and chili to more modern veggie burgers, meatless loaves, and stuffed peppers, there’s almost no preparation that wouldn’t welcome a swap. Crowder peas can step in seamlessly, bringing a slightly creamier texture and deeper, earthier flavor to the same familiar formats.

Playing the Field

Given that I don’t have access to fresh crowder peas and can only dream of snapping their delicate little pods in two, I did have to resort to using garden-variety green beans to make my own version of field peas and snaps. On the bright side, this approach is much less labor-intensive, since you can buy bags of cut green beans ready to go. Since we’re not prisoners of tradition here, I have no qualms swapping out the conventional bacon or ham hock for the one-two punch of mushrooms and liquid smoke. Meat was always meant to be the seasoning, not the focal point, in any event.

Between the onions and garlic, you’ve got a classic starter pack for “what smell’s so good in here?” before the umami mushrooms even enter the picture. The crowder peas, ever reliable, stay creamy at the center yet intact, thickening the broth ever so slightly as they simmer. Served with liquid and all, nothing goes to waste, especially the leftovers.


Join The Crowd

Crowder peas may not have the name recognition of their fellow field pea cousins, but that only means there’s more room on the table for discovery. Sturdy, soulful, and reliably versatile, they’re equally at home in a Southern stew or a weeknight plant meat remix. If anything, their underdog status works in your favor; they arrive without expectations and leave with converts. Next time you see that vague little bag labeled “field peas,” don’t walk past it. There’s a whole new crowd worth getting to know.

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Wordless Wednesday: Raise a Glass

Dripping Springs Vodka – Blackberry Smash
High Road DelicaTexan – Hot and Iced Chai
High Road DelicaTexan – Matcha Martini + Coconut Horchata
Jackalope South Shore – Cosmo
Jackalope South Shore – Espresso Martini & Cosmo
Jackalope South Shore – French 75 Wall
Kanji Ramen – Yuzu Whiskey Sour
Nori – Lavender Gin & Tonic
Nori – Pink Flamingo
Pinthouse Pizza – Beer

Spirit of Texas BrewstilleryOld Fashioned

Swim Club – French 75
The Dead Rabbit – Cherry in the Barrel
The Dead Rabbit – Doctors Orders
The Dead Rabbit – Taking Liberties

Global Grab-and-Go

Life has never moved at a faster pace, seeming to accelerate with every passing year. Who has the time for work-life balance when there aren’t even enough hours in the day to get three square meals on the table? The world isn’t about to slow down, but culinary traditions across the globe have found a way to adapt. Every locale has their own legacy of quick-fix street foods, providing energy, comfort, novelty, and nutrition, right in the palm of your hand.

Suya, a fiery Nigerian snack, delivers smoky, spiced “meat” on skewers with bold, addictive flavor.

Pupusas from El Salvador offer thick corn cakes, hiding gooey cheese and creamy refried beans within.

In Japan, onigiri are simple rice balls, plain or filled with anything your heart desires, always with a touch of umami.

Pita pockets become the compact vessels for arayes, a Levantine favorite, stuffed with a spiced, meaty filling and grilled until crisp and juicy.

Jewish tradition hailing primarily from NYC brings us the beloved potato pastries, knishes, which can also conceal myriad flavor variations within.

Pinsa Romana, though it looks and sounds like pizza, is a unique flatbread sensation all its own; airy, crisp, and chewy, made from ancient grains and a clever no-knead base.

No forks, knives, or spoons about it. These handheld savory sensations meet you where you are, on the road, packing for a picnic, or running to your next meeting.

Get all these recipes inside the latest issue of Vegan Journal, in print or online.