Waffles, My Liege

Waffles will always make me think of my dad. Though always open to trying new things, he’s a man of few favorites, drawn to a slim list of staples that he’s happy to repeat until the end of days. That’s why I’m endlessly making subtle variations on the same theme when trying to treat him, as nearly every waffle recipe on this blog can attest. Working with a limited range of options that he would genuinely enjoy isn’t too much of a challenge though, as he makes his preferences very clear. All things sweet, crunchy, and simple are likely an easy win.

What Are Liege Waffles?

For his birthday this year, I’m dedicating a different sort of waffle indulgence in his honor. Liege waffles are an entirely different beast from the typical frozen affair and even bolder than Belgian. Made with yeasted brioche dough instead of a liquid batter, the aroma is absolutely heady, like fresh, buttery bread as it hits the iron. The most distinctive part of a proper liege waffle, however, is the inclusion of pearl sugar, which caramelizes in crunchy pockets throughout. They’re rich enough to eat out of hand like any other pastry, hot or cold, with or without any further adornment.

Pearl of a Great Price

Securing pearl sugar isn’t terribly challenging in this age of online shopping and immediate gratification, but it does pose a stumbling block if you’d rather keep your purchases close to home. Or, more accurately in my case, you don’t want to keep buying random stuff that you’ll only use once. Spurred on by equal parts impatience and thriftiness, as so many of my recipes are, I realized that I already had the perfect substitute: Sprinkles. Sprinkles are essentially compact tablets of sugar with a bit of starch and added coloring, so why wouldn’t they work just as nicely here? Moreover, sprinkles are somewhat like candy, which aligns nicely with the short list of my dad’s favorite foods.

Confetti Cannon

Confetti Liege Waffles are a distinctly American take on the Wallonian classic. Freckled with every color of the rainbow, sprinkles are no longer just an ice cream topping. Once pressed and sizzling between two hot irons, the sprinkles soften just enough to melt at the edges, bleeding streaks of color into the tender dough while regaining a sugary crunch after cooling. Each abstract blob emerges golden, lacquered with a sheen of sugar that’s befitting of a real celebration. Since my dad isn’t big on birthday cake, this seems like a much more suitable centerpiece for his big day. All you’d need is a candle to blow out.

Dressed to Impress

Still, I would never deny the man his beloved maple syrup. That firmly pushes this plate into dessert territory, unless you’d like to start your day in a sugar coma. To each their own; there are worse ways to celebrate a birthday!

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De Nada; You’re Welcome

“You’re welcome” is typically heard as a response, reflexive and impersonal, to any verbal show of gratitude. De Nada Cantina implies a fuller understanding: you are welcome.

Crispy Mushroom Picadillo Taco

Putting hospitality first, De Nada believes that when you put people first, the rest will follow. Judging by the nearly unanimous raves for their original downtown Austin location, they’ve got that equation right. As founder Stephen Shallcross explains it, “Hospitality is about taking care of people. We believe in hospitality. It doesn’t mean treating anyone, be they vegans, or gluten-free, or wheelchair users, as special. Everyone should be taken care of equally. It’s in our DNA to take care people, in the dignity of all people.”

Stephen Shallcross, owner of 2 Dine 4 Hospitality Group, which includes De Nada Cantina, Sawyer & Co., SWOOP House, Lil’ Easy Cajun Food & Bar, and 2 Dine 4 Fine Catering

Expanding into a larger kitchen in their newly opened South 1st location, the already accommodating menu has expanded accordingly. Myriad meatless options showcase the inherent richness of whole foods, seasoned with the same care and attention given to prime cuts. The mushroom picadillo in particular, developed through multiple trials and many revisions, is a shining example of that commitment. Layers of spices blended so harmoniously that it’s impossible to tease them apart are infused into every molecule of the humble fungus, swaddled in soft, handmade blue corn tortillas, or crispy hard shells if you’d prefer a nostalgic American flourish.

Vegan Enchiladas

Vegetarian enchiladas aren’t victims of subtraction after being converted to veganism. Creamy green pipián sauce blankets the bundle lavishly, as if those pumpkin seeds are channeling the very spirit of sour cream. Even the refritos negros, otherwise unremarkable black beans, dazzle with depth that has an uncanny cheesy undertone. It’s the kind of thing that anyone could enjoy, without even realizing they’ve eaten a vegan meal.

Camote Taco

What began as trying to accommodate friends and family turned into a genuine passion for making plant-based foods. John Mackey, co-founder of Whole Foods Market, was an early supporter and client, who really started the wheels turning. His signature can be seen all over the catering menus which are additionally low-sodium and almost entirely oil-free.

Frozen Margarita

Don’t worry, if you’re just here for the comfort food, no one is about to give you a lecture about healthy living here. That piece of the puzzle is incidental to simply starting with quality ingredients and not messing them up. There’s still plenty of spirit behind the bar when you want to let loose. Crowned the best margarita by The Austin Chronicle now three years running, frozen or on the rocks, large or slightly less large, these drinks do not mess around. The way that happy hour deals bring crowds in droves is self-explanatory.

Verduras Taco

In 2026, accommodation is out; inclusion is in. Everyone is truly welcome here.

De Nada Cantina

1302 S 1st St.
Austin, TX 78704

Hannah (BitterSweet)3 Comments

Cream Cheese of the Crop

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

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

A Lasting Legacy

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

Review Revival, Twenty Years Later

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

Unsavory Impact

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

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

Still Sweet On This Spread

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

Mixed Results

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

Hannah (BitterSweet)6 Comments

Buffeted By The Buffet

Is there anything more American than a buffet? Endless opportunities, unlimited indulgences, and unrestrained gluttony at its finest. Should a metal chaffing dish ever grow empty, a new one will appear, bountiful and beguiling, ready for the next round. It’s an odd phenomenon that I find impossibly fascinating, representing a Venn diagram that overlaps between bliss and revulsion.

Do I really need another plate of fried miscellany, just because it’s there? How many more servings before I’ve gotten my money’s worth? How long has that unrefrigerated potato salad really been sitting out? Why do most buffets have abysmal health scores? Some things are best not thought about.

Despite all the ostentatious trappings of the modern American buffet, we can’t lay claim to its invention. The US is still a nascent country compared to the most of the world, all of which had a huge head start on culinary development. Though its reliably a realm for the wealthy to showcase their largess, it hasn’t always been about quantity over quality.

Scandinavians can reasonably take credit for the original concept dating back to the 16th century. Brännvinsbord were served as a pre-meal snack of cold items like cheeses, bread, and other small tapas-like dishes, set out for guests to help themselves while mixing and mingling. By the time the early 18th century rolled around, these appetizers were expanded into smörgåsbords, encompassing a full meal and including hot dishes as well. However, the term “buffet” itself originates from the French, in reference to the piece of furniture where food was displayed.

Its original European elegance has worn thin after many years overseas, evidenced by the proliferation of steam table mystery meats and troughs of limp, oily fries. I know that a buffet will never be a good idea, especially as a vegan who can only safely consume about 1/10th of the questionable wares on display, and yet, I’m drawn inexorably to them, like a moth to the flame. The culture of buffets is a whole separate dogma, drawing a different set of social norms and expectations, like a crazy microcosm of the worst of human behavior. The people watching is top-tier; worth the price of admission alone.

The food is bad, yes, but there’s so much of it, which makes it good! Prices are steeper than an a composed entree, but you get to eat far more than you’d comfortably like to, so it’s a bargain! I get trapped down these spiraling, conflicting thought patterns, fully aware and yet fully willing to take the plunge. Do I want to go to the buffet? Yes, of course. Do I want to eat at the buffet? No, please god, anything but that.

Though the buffet has faced steep criticism and near extinction during the COVID-19 pandemic, it continues on, regaining lost ground particularly in hotels, casinos, and similar tourist traps. It’s part of the American experience now, no matter how abjectly terrible that may be. Consider it entertainment more than a meal, and you may have a better experience.

Hannah (BitterSweet)3 Comments