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Flavorful Fungi

To forage or not to forage

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

Many moons ago, my mom would — in my memory, at least — merrily skip along the wooded trails of my childhood, wicker basket in hand, humming a little tune while foraging for mushrooms in the later months of the year. We children usually followed along curiously while my dad trailed behind us, ever so doubtful about my mom’s undertaking. And I don’t blame him.

Hunting for wild mushrooms is serious business. Looking at guidebooks that list edible mushrooms together with their toxic doppelgänger, I find myself squinting at the images to spot the difference and still am uncertain. Sadly, I did not pick up on my mom’s traditional knowledge of identifying wild mushrooms. Much like my dad, I have internalized the old adage “when in doubt, throw it out.” Or rather, when in doubt, don’t even touch, let alone add, the ’shrooms to your basket.

Just because you don’t forage for mushrooms doesn’t mean you’re condemned to a life of grocery store portobellos, as tasty as they can be. Thanks to the ever growing number of independent mushroom farmers, we now have access to a wide variety of fungi — even in, and certainly outside, the produce aisles.

As a quasi-flexitarian — someone who eats meat only occasionally — I adore mushrooms as the quintessential meat substitute. With their meat-like texture and plenty of umami (savory flavor) mushrooms have always been, and always will be, my favorite ingredient in vegetarian dishes. 

Mushroom and Chestnut Stroganoff

(Serves 2)

Ingredients

3 tablespoons olive oil (divided)

6 ounces chestnuts, cooked and cut in half

16 ounces mushrooms, such as oyster, maitake, shiitake or cremini, sliced

1 medium onion, chopped

2-3 garlic cloves, minced

1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika

1/4 cup sherry

1 tablespoon flour, such as all-purpose or arrowroot

1 1/2 cups vegetable broth

3/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon ground pepper

1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard

1/4 cup crème fraîche (optional)

8 ounces cooked pasta, such as egg noodles or rotini

Parsley or chives, chopped, for garnish

Instructions

Heat a large skillet over medium heat, add one tablespoon of olive oil and gently toast the chestnuts until they are fragrant and golden, about 4-5 minutes. Transfer chestnuts to a bowl and set aside. Without adding any more oil to the skillet, begin sautéing mushrooms. Do not crowd the pan and work in batches, if necessary. Cook mushrooms until they start releasing their juices. Allow juices to evaporate and continue to cook briefly while stirring until mushrooms turn golden brown. Transfer to a plate and set aside. Add two tablespoons olive oil to the skillet and sauté onions for 4-5 minutes; add garlic and smoked paprika. Continue to cook for another minute. Add sherry and allow to cook off. Stir in flour, add broth, salt, pepper and mustard, and continue to stir. Bring sauce to a simmer, then add chestnuts and mushrooms and cook until sauce is reduced by about half, approximately 8-10 minutes. Take off heat, stir in crème fraîche, if using, and serve with pasta. Garnish with parsley or chives.

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Percolate This!

Latte macchiato-style ice pops

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

If it takes more than a splash of milk and a spoonful of sugar to enjoy your coffee, I’m afraid you may be among those who like coffee-flavored drinks rather than actual coffee. A little bit of cream and sweetener in your brew is what I call an embellishment. Adding a quart of frothy milk, whipped cream and flavored syrups to your beverage conjures up images of county fair treats but has nothing to do with the ancient art of enjoying a good roast. If you can’t relish the dark, bold taste of an espresso or a simple pour-over brew au naturel, you may not be loving coffee as much as you might think.

Why does it matter? Once I started to cut down on the milk in my coffee, I began noticing how downright terrible a lot of coffees taste. One can hide the stalest, most acidic-tasting beans underneath cascades of cream, sugar and flavored additives that completely conceal the fact you were served an inferior roast. I suspect that many a coffee drinker would quit their habit if they knew how bitter and sour their drink truly tastes underneath fluffy add-ons.

So, many years back, I started taking my coffee black, with the occasional “dry” cappuccino (more foam, less milk) thrown into the mix, and it completely changed the way I approach coffee. For one, I no longer frivolously drink coffee wherever it’s served. I’m not afraid to ask for the origin and roasting style of the beans. If I don’t care for the answer, I pass on coffee in favor of tea or, simply, water.

As particular as I may be with how I drink my coffee, I love tinkering about with coffee-flavored desserts where any amount of milk, cream, yogurt or mascarpone can make its way into the mix. Since we avoid turning on the oven in the heat of the summer, I am resorting to ice pops. In memory of my first ever coffee drink, I like making latte macchiato-style pops. When the “latte” is served the traditional way — in glass tumblers — you are rewarded with beautiful layers of milk and coffee, creating a stunning ombre effect.

Latte macchiato — most definitely a gateway drink into a lifelong coffee habit — is not just visually pleasing as a coffee drink, it makes for some extraordinary ice pops, both in how it tastes and looks.

Latte Macchiato Ice Pops

(Serves 6)

10 ounces coffee, such as espresso or filter coffee, freshly brewed and chilled

12 ounces plain yogurt (see notes)

Sweetener, such as honey, maple syrup or granulated sugar, to taste

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Add sweetener to your coffee — start with a tablespoon and work your way up to a sweetness level of your liking. Note that once frozen, it will taste less sweet so consider adding a little extra sugar. Sweeten the yogurt in the same manner and stir in vanilla extract. To achieve a layered look, add about 1 1/2 tablespoons of yogurt to the base of your ice mold and freeze for 30 minutes. Add more yogurt to each mold until they’re a little more than half full, then slowly pour in the coffee. Inserting sticks will give it a nice stir but for more visual drama, do a figure 8 with your stick in each mold before affixing them properly. Freeze for about 3 hours before serving. (Notes: Using whole milk or plant milk instead of yogurt will result in a less pronounced layered effect but will also taste delicious.)

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Lowcountry Culture

Bringing summer to a boil

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

Lowcountry boil is a culinary tradition I like to show off to trans-Atlantic friends and family that visit us in North Carolina. It’s American food culture few people abroad know exists — and it’s a showstopper. The moment you spread out a stockpot full of seafood, sausages and corn on the dinner table, conversations halt, anticipation rises, and strangers become instant friends digging into this delicious feast.

Surprisingly, though, Lowcountry boil doesn’t go back as far in history as I had expected. In the 1960s, a young chap named Richard Gay joined the South Carolina National Guard, where he cooked for his mates at the Beaufort Armory during weekend drills. On one such occasion, he gathered up chow hall leftovers, threw them in a large pot together with fresh shrimp he had sourced from his father’s seafood company, and began cooking. Once finished, he spread out the meal across the tables of the banquet hall — and the legendary low country boil was born.

While most folks call it Lowcountry boil these days, it was originally known as “Frogmore stew.” Frogmore, which technically doesn’t exist anymore, was part of St. Helena Island, near Beaufort, South Carolina — Richard Gay’s hometown community. Perhaps the name Frogmore stew fell out of favor because, well, it’s not really a stew. All liquids are drained off. But don’t get hung up on names. Give this one-of-a-kind Lowcountry feast recipe adapted from The Food, Folklore and Art of Lowcountry Cooking, by Joseph E. Dabney, a try this summer.

Lowcountry Boil

(Serves 6)

Ingredients

4 tablespoons Old Bay seasoning (or make your own, see notes)

1/4 pound (1 stick) butter

4 tablespoons salt

2 pounds kielbasa sausage, cut into quarters

1 large onion, roughly diced

2 pounds small new red potatoes, cut in half

6 ears fresh corn, cut in half

3 pounds peeled deveined shrimp (with tail on)

Fill a large pot (6-quart or bigger) two-thirds full of water and bring to a rolling boil. Add Old Bay seasoning and reduce heat to a simmer. Next, add butter, salt, sausages, onion and potatoes and simmer for about 15 minutes. Add corn, cook for an additional 3-5 minutes then add shrimp. Cook shrimp for roughly 3-6 minutes, until they turn pink and white (instead of opaque). Turn off the heat and allow ingredients to set for a few minutes, drain liquid and serve with more seasoning, cocktail sauce, melted butter dip and coleslaw, if desired.

To make your own Old Bay seasoning, combine 1 tablespoon celery salt; 1 tablespoon hot paprika; 1 tablespoon smoked paprika; 1 1/2 teaspoons mustard powder; 3/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper; 1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper; 1/2 teaspoon ground white pepper; 1/4 teaspoon ground bay leaves; and a pinch each of ground cinnamon, ground cloves and ground nutmeg. Store in an airtight container.

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Skagenröra, Anyone?

A shrimp salad for midsummer

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

Our kitchen has always been the hottest room in the house — a 1920s bungalow in the heart of Aberdeen. Even after we had a brand new HVAC system installed about a year ago, the kitchen remains stuffy, with little air flow. While the air conditioning, usually set to a pleasant 72 degrees, has you reaching for a throw blanket in the front room, you’ll be wiping sweat off your brow just a few feet down the hall in the kitchen, with or without the oven on. It’s a mystery that apparently cannot be solved, but it’s a good reason to keep our cooking and baking to a minimum this summer season.

Fortunately for us, my German upbringing has taught me how to turn bread and a few simple ingredients into a satisfying meal. Sure, sandwiches — the American way of life — are quite filling, but it’s not the same experience as having a slice of stout pumpernickel or rye bread layered with exquisite homemade spreads, decoratively presented on a plate right in front of you, begging the question: Do I need to use a knife and fork with this?

While Germans have a firm grasp on Brotzeit, which literally translates to “bread time,” with liverwurst, pickles, crackling lard and other rustic ingredients, Scandinavians have a more exotic variety. Skagenröra, one of the most popular dishes in Sweden, is a simple seafood salad made of shrimp, crème fraîche, mayonnaise and dill. Most people use tiny shrimp, but we like to cut up larger shrimp, which doesn’t hurt the flavor in the least.

Skagenröra shrimp salad neighbors well with smoked salmon as well as other spreads, egg salad being one of them. For either one — shrimp or egg salad — you can lighten up by substituting a portion of the mayonnaise with yogurt, or ditch the mayo and use a combination of yogurt and plain hummus.

However you plan on spending “midsommar” — the longest day and shortest night of the year — keep the kitchen cool and try Skagenröra for a simple but worthy solstice snack.

Skagenröra Shrimp Salad

(Makes 4 open-faced sandwiches)

1/4 cup mayonnaise (or a yogurt and mayo combination)

1/3 cup crème fraîche

1 small shallot, finely minced

4 tablespoons chives, finely chopped

3 tablespoons dill, finely chopped

Lemon zest of 1/2 lemon

1/2 teaspoon prepared mustard

Lemon juice, freshly squeezed, to taste

12 ounces small shrimp (or larger shrimp, sliced)

Salt, pepper, to taste

4 slices of pumpernickel or rye bread

2 handfuls butter lettuce

Mixed sprouts (e.g., broccoli, radish, cress)

2-3 tablespoons capers (optional)

Add mayonnaise, crème fraîche, shallot, chives, dill, lemon zest, mustard and lemon juice to a bowl and mix well. Gently fold in shrimp and add salt and pepper to your liking. Refrigerate the shrimp salad for at least two hours before serving. To serve, layer lettuce on a slice of bread, top with a generous helping of Skagenröra and other toppings, such as sprouts and capers. 

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French Squared

Croissants jazz up a traditional dish

Story and Photograph by Rose Shewey

If I see French toast on a breakfast menu, I inevitably think: old bread. I can’t help it. Jazzed up old bread, yes, but old bread nonetheless.

For a start, it’s always been my belief that French toast is a “make at home with leftovers” food. Stale bread soaked in an eggy milk mixture? In various languages, most of Europe calls this dish “poor knights.” It sure sounds like something starving wayfarers would have appreciated. Then I came across a version of this meal that had me at the very edge of my seat: Croissant French Toast Bake.

Initial enthusiasm was quickly replaced by the sinking of my heart. Since French toast works best with dry bread, the implication was clear: You need to have day-old croissants (not just one, but several) lying about to make this dish. In our home, freshly brewed stovetop espresso and golden-baked, just-out-of-the-oven croissants are the raison d’être, the pinnacle of a dignified life, so to speak. Fresh croissants typically don’t make it to lunchtime, let alone the next day.

So, special arrangements were made to get this meal underway. I ventured out and bought prepackaged croissants. Naturally, if you have an abundance of homemade croissants, or access to artisanal baked goods, you may not need to go this route but grocery store croissants are a fine option for this purpose. I opted to add strawberries — after all, ’tis the season — but pick your favorite fruit and make the dish your own. This version of French toast is a departure from the traditional recipe, but it makes for a celebratory upgrade of the original.

Croissant French Toast Bake with Strawberries

(Serves 6)

4 eggs

1 1/4 cups milk

2 tablespoons sweetener, such as maple syrup or honey

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Pinch of salt

6 croissants, cut in half (or torn into larger pieces)

5-6 tablespoon strawberry jam

6 ounces cream cheese, room temperature

1/4 cup butter

Fresh strawberries and whipped cream for serving

Add eggs, milk, sweetener, vanilla extract, cinnamon and salt to a large bowl and whisk. Dip the bottom halves of the croissants into the egg mixture and place into a 8×10-inch greased baking dish. Spoon jam and dollops of cream cheese over top. Dip the remaining croissants into the egg mixture and lay on top of the bottom halves, pouring any remaining egg mixture over the croissants. Refrigerate for at least one hour or overnight.

Preheat oven to 375°F. Slice butter and place on top of the croissants, then bake for 40-45 minutes. If needed, cover the dish with a lid or foil to prevent croissants from browning too much.

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A Cake for Every Season

No-bake Easter sweet treats

Photograph and Story by Rose Shewey

Today, I am going to answer a question you didn’t know you had: The humble carrot cake — is it a fall treat or a spring dessert?

It’s a bit of a conundrum. With carrots being harvested both in the spring and autumn, one could argue carrot cake can be either one — a celebration of spring and fall. Case closed. However, there are those — in my experience, mainly hobby pastry chefs — determined to limit this modest delight to just one season. To me, the correct answer is, and always has been, carrot cake is an anytime cake. Spring, summer, fall or winter. It’s truly a cake that fits just about any occasion.

The much more pressing question is, come Easter, should I make carrot cake or cheesecake? Cheesecake is the quintessential spring dessert in my book. Indecision being my biggest vice, I am making both and combining them — a folksy carrot cake as the supporting act for opulent cheesecake is exactly what I want to adorn my Easter brunch array.

That’s not the whole story. I am making this entire affair a no-bake event.

If you want to serve them alone, it’s worth noting that this no-bake carrot cake makes for some scrumptious carrot cake bars, should you be short on time or if cheesecake isn’t your cup of tea. Vice versa, if carrot cake isn’t your jam, this no-bake cheesecake will happily go atop any crust of your choosing.

No-Bake Carrot Cake and Cheesecake

(Serves 6)

Carrot Cake Ingredients

1 cup coconut flakes, toasted

1 cup cashew nuts or walnuts

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

Pinch of sea salt

6-8 medjool dates, pitted and sliced

1 cup grated carrots

1/3 – 1/2 cup coconut flour, as needed

Cheesecake Ingredients

16 ounces cream cheese, room temperature

1/3 cup powdered sugar

zest of 1/2 lemon

1 tablespoon lemon juice, freshly squeezed

8 ounces heavy whipping cream

Method

To make the carrot cake base, add coconut flakes, cashews or walnuts, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt to a food processor and pulse until the nuts are crumbly. Now add in the dates and mix until you have a dough-like consistency but do not over-process — you don’t want a puree. Add in the carrots and pulse until everything is well incorporated.

Scrape out mixture into a bowl and add about half of the coconut flour and stir with a fork or spatula; if the mixture is still overly wet or sticky, work in the remainder of the coconut flower.

Line a 6-7-inch springform pan with parchment paper and press the carrot cake mixture into the bottom. Use a flat-bottom glass to achieve a smooth layer. Set aside.

To make the cheesecake, add the cream cheese to a bowl and sift in the powdered sugar. Mix with a fork until roughly incorporated, add lemon zest and juice and mix with a handheld mixer until well combined and creamy. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, whip heavy cream until soft peaks form and fold into the cream cheese mixture. Pour cheesecake mixture into the prepared springform, atop the carrot cake base, and refrigerate for at least 4 hours before serving.

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Open Season

It’s strawberry o’clock somewhere

Photograph and Story by Rose Shewey

Eating seasonally makes for an interesting lifestyle. The practice of only buying and eating foods that are grown locally and harvested at peak flavor is a worthy undertaking but also a commitment I’m not ready to make just yet. I can easily enjoy locally harvested foods all summer long, especially in North Carolina, where we grow an abundance of exciting warm weather crops — but I don’t foresee myself mastering the art of exclusively eating root vegetables and canned goods for months on end during the winter.

I do have some principles, though. These past few months at the grocery store, I had to use all my power of persuasion to talk my 6-year-old out of bagging strawberries that were grown thousands of miles away and, frankly, a bit pale and sorry looking. So, that’s a “no” to buying imported berries, as well as “winter tomatoes,” the epitome of blandness. On the other hand, I have a hard time turning down avocados from south of the border, or especially plump and juicy-looking citrus from across the country, if the opportunity presents itself.

In the case of the strawberry, which is native to Northern America, it makes a lot of sense to wait for the local harvest. Not only will the berries look better, they’ll be their most nutritious and aromatic. But here again, I fall off the wagon by stretching the term “locally grown.” As soon as the first strawberries harvested anywhere in the Southeast hit the shelves, all bets are off.

So, come March — the month I typically start noticing Florida-grown strawberries in the markets — we’re in the strawberry business, just a few weeks before our (truly local) Sandhills strawberries are ready to be picked. To bridge the gap between the cold season and the tender beginnings of spring, I like to prepare a strawberry fruit salad and mix in wintry grapefruit. Make it into a meal and serve this fruit salad with waffles. A grain- and gluten-free almond and oat waffle is the ideal accompaniment to this fruity affair — and not just for breakfast.

Strawberry and Grapefruit Salad with Almond Oat Waffles

Fruit Salad

(Serves 4)

2 grapefruit, peeled

400 grams strawberries

2 tablespoons strawberry syrup or other liquid sweetener (optional)

Dice grapefruit (peel off the membrane, if desired) and slice the strawberries. Add cut fruit to a bowl and toss with strawberry syrup or sweetener of choice. Refrigerate until ready to use.

Almond Oat Waffles

(Makes 4-6 waffles)

1 cup oat flour

1 cup almond flour

3/4 teaspoon baking powder

Pinch of salt

3/4 cup milk (nut milk or whole milk)

2 tablespoons honey (softened) or granulated sugar

3 eggs

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

3 tablespoons butter (melted) or coconut oil

Preheat your waffle iron. Combine oat flour, almond flour, baking powder and salt in a bowl and whisk to combine. In a separate bowl, whisk together the milk, honey or sugar, eggs, vanilla extract and butter. Pour the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients and stir until well combined. Ladle batter into your waffle iron and cook until golden and slightly crisp.

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Hearty Breakfast in Bed

For the love of eggs and toast

Photograph and Story by Rose Shewey

Here is a piece of advice I would give to my younger self: Celebrate. Everything.

So what if Valentine’s Day is a commercial holiday? Get out the heart-shaped waffle iron; make a card if you don’t want to buy one; pick some wild blooms and simply enjoy the privilege of celebrating with the people you love. Which, of course, you can do any day of the week. There’s no need to wait around for a specific day in February, but there’s also no need to not do these things come Valentine’s Day. There is no better excuse to start the morning with mimosas and hugs, because — why not?

No gifts, though. I won’t budge on this. My husband knows and, I am fairly certain, appreciates it. He’s having a hard enough time picking gifts for the usual occasions (I’m impossible to shop for), so he’s off the hook for this quasi-holiday. He never fails to make cards for me together with our son, though, which is the most precious gift of all.

But back to heart-shaped things. Here is a subtle but eye-catching way of adding romantic flair to your morning meal: Try this heart shaped egg toast with herb butter. It’s quick and easy. You won’t need Barbie-pink frosting or rainbow glitter sprinkles and, with a minor adjustment using plain butter instead of garlicky butter, the youngest family members will dig in, too.

Garlic and Rosemary Butter Bread with Eggs

(Serves 4)

6 ounces butter, room temperature

1-2 cloves garlic, minced

1 sprig rosemary, finely chopped

4 thick slices of bread (such as fresh sourdough)

4 eggs

Salt and pepper, to taste

In a small bowl, combine the butter, garlic and rosemary. Mix with a fork until all ingredients are well incorporated; set aside. Using a heart shaped cookie cutter (or working freehand with a knife), remove the center of the bread, but be sure to leave enough of an edge so the bread won’t fall apart. Spread a generous amount of butter on one side of the bread and the cut-out center piece. Melt 1-2 tablespoon of prepared butter in a skillet and fry the bread and cut-out center piece over medium heat on the plain side first for 2-3 minutes, then flip the bread and cook the buttered side for an additional 2-3 minutes. Turn down heat to low and crack an egg into the center of the bread; cover with a lid. Cook on low heat until the egg has the desired level of doneness, about 3-7 minutes. Add salt and pepper, to taste, and serve immediately.

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This Old Chestnut

Sweet and nutty soup for a frosty day

Photograph and Story by Rose Shewey

Not only is the chestnut tree an icon of the American wilderness, it is also the namesake of the original dad joke. Long before social media shaped everyday speech, a cheesy pun was simply known as an “old chestnut,” going back 200 and some years. Apparently, generations of dads before yours had a cringeworthy sense of humor, imagine that!

All jokes aside, why do foragers, folklorists and foodies go all googly-eyed at the mention of chestnuts? There are many reasons, and the nearly extinct American chestnut tree is one of them. Known as the “redwoods of the East,” these native chestnut trees wouldn’t just grow strong and tall. A fully grown tree was able to produce up to 100 pounds of nuts — try squirreling away that many conkers for the winter!

While American chestnut trees don’t make it past a young age due to various diseases, other varieties are thriving. Fortunately for us, a stately sweet chestnut tree of European descent — such as the ones I grew up with in Germany — is happily growing in the heart of Aberdeen, right along our stomping grounds in the historic district. With permission from the owner, we have made it a tradition to forage a handful of chestnuts in the late fall. Even though these nuts are perfectly edible, they usually end up adorning our seasonal nature table, carefully curated by our 6-year-old.

For actual culinary purposes, we rely on the store-bought variety of edible chestnuts, typically those imported from Italy. If I can get my hands on fresh chestnuts, they will be boiled (not roasted) and enjoyed right out of the pot, but the occasional batch is destined for a creamy chestnut soup. Since chestnuts are mild in flavor, I like to keep the recipe simple, avoiding ingredients that tend to overpower their subtle earthy aroma. A splash of sherry and a pinch of cinnamon turn this soup into a warming, nutty-sweet meal for a frosty winter day.

Wintry Chestnut Soup

(Serves 6)

2 pounds fresh chestnuts or 1 pound roasted and peeled chestnuts from a jar or bag

1/4 cup unsalted butter

1 medium yellow onion, chopped (about 6 ounces)

1/4 cup sherry (optional)

4 cups chicken stock or vegetable broth

1 thyme sprig

1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

3/4 cup heavy cream

Freshly grated nutmeg, to taste

Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste

Directions

You can skip this step if using ready-cooked chestnuts, otherwise, add water to a medium saucepan and bring to a boil. Score the shell of the chestnuts on the rounded side with an X, cutting through to the inner skin of the nut, and add to the boiling water. Cook for 15-20 minutes or until the scored edges expose the nut. Drain and allow the chestnuts to cool for a few minutes, then peel while the nuts are still warm.

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan, add onions and cook on medium heat until softened, about 6-8 minutes. Add the wine and cook over medium heat until the saucepan is almost dry. Add chestnuts, stock or broth, thyme and cinnamon. Cover the pot, bring to a gentle simmer and cook for 15-20 minutes. Puree the soup in a blender (working in batches if needed) or use an immersion blender until you have the desired texture. Return the soup to the pot if using a stand blender and bring to a simmer once more. Add cream, season with nutmeg and adjust to your taste with salt and pepper.

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Good Luck Grapes

A fresh take on an old tradition

Photograph and Story by Rose Shewey

What should naturally follow The Twelve Days of Christmas? The Twelve Grapes of New Year’s, of course. What sounds like a silly social media fad is actually an Old World Spanish custom which is, for better or for worse, rooted in tradition — though the origin isn’t entirely clear.

The ritual of las doce uvas de la suerte — or “the twelve grapes of luck” — entails eating one grape with each strike of the bell that rings in the New Year. The objective is to finish all your grapes before the chiming ends. It sounds easy enough but, depending on your level of soberness, can be a bit of a choking hazard. Each grape represents one month of the year to come. Those who finish their grapes in time are believed to have greatly enhanced their chances of good luck in the New Year.

Back to the risky business of stuffing your mouth full of grapes in under 30 seconds: While the grapes have to be fresh (some claim that cunning Alicantese winemakers started this ritual to sell an abundance of grapes), the fruit may be baked. So, keep the raisins in the pantry but do roast your grapes in the oven and enjoy jammy, sweet and warming grapes that will softly burst on your tongue and aren’t likely to clog your airways just minutes into 2025.

Or you could part with superstition entirely and relish your food in a, shall we say, more dignified and civilized manner. Serve roasted grapes with soft cheese and fresh baguette and savor every bite — no better luck to be had and projected forward than sharing delectable food with family and friends, unhurriedly, as you slide into the New Year.

Balsamic Roasted Grapes

1 pound grapes, washed and dried

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt

A couple of twists of black pepper

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Separate grapes into smaller clusters or remove stems completely. In a large glass bowl, combine grapes with olive oil and balsamic vinegar and gently stir to evenly coat the grapes. Spread grapes on a roasting pan in a single layer (use two pans if grapes are too crowded) and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast for about 20-30 minutes or until grapes start to shrivel and burst. If desired, decant the pan juices into a small pot and simmer down into a savory syrup. Serve with brie cheese or on fresh baguette.