Innehållsförteckning för Spring/Summer 2025 från SAVEUR

Mrizi i Zanave in Albania serves farm-to-table dishes crafted from local, organic ingredients. Set in the peaceful Fishtë countryside, this inn and restaurant is rustic yet refined, celebrating the country’s flavors and scenery. — Ardita Kacorri At La Table du Souk, the rooftop restaurant at the hotel La Sultana, you can savor spicy, saucy tagines and a rainbow of traditional Moroccan salads in the heart of Marrakech’s UNESCO-protected medina. —Benjamin Kemper Terlingua in Portland, Maine. Order a dinner board (don’t forget an extra side of grilled cornbread) and enjoy the backyard barbecue experience without the hassle of grilling at home. —Emma Simard The rooftop of Bar.B.Q Tonight in Karachi, Pakistan, is a must whenever I’m visiting home. The cool ocean breeze, the city traffic bustling below, the smell of coals and…

MONT D’OR IS PERHAPS France’s sexiest cheese—so gooey and amorphous it needs a wooden corset to keep it from oozing into a puddle. The harvesters of these spruce strips are called sangliers (bark strippers), a trade 43-year-old Marie Faivre inherited from her father, who trained her. Faivre is one of a few dozen with that job title in France, most of whom ply their craft in Franche-Comté on the Swiss border. Sangliers are early risers, tasked with following lumberjacks from forest to forest in pursuit of felled trees destined for sawmills. Their prize is the thin, pliable cambium found beneath the bark, which they remove using a steel shovel known as a cuillère, a tool “we have to make ourselves,” Faivre says. Fall is the best time to harvest. In…

JOHNNY ORTIZ-CONCHA IS good with his hands—tossing hay bales, foraging chokecherries, tending beehives on a 22-acre ranch outside Taos, New Mexico. He can cook, too, although he no longer defines himself as a chef. His communal dinner series, / Shed, is based on a meditative ethos that extends to the wild apples he ferments, the tuah-tah red beans he simmers, and the criollo beef he dries in the high desert sun, all sourced within reach. Even Ortiz-Concha’s rough, darkly beautiful dinnerware is fashioned by hand: He digs the raw clay himself from deposits in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains, where his ancestors have done the same “ever since anyone can remember,” he says. The soil is a singular composition of crushed rose quartz, pink feldspar, sandstone, and sparkly mica. “Traditional potters…

THE FIRST THING I learned from chef Olia Hercules is that you can chase a shot of vodka with a tomato. Specifically, a cherry tomato lacto-fermented in a tomato-pulp brine until its insides are fizzy and the whole thing explodes as soon as it lands on your tongue (see recipe, p. 155). It was 2015, and Olia was at the former SAVEUR offices in New York City celebrating the launch of her first cookbook, Mamushka: Recipes From Ukraine and Eastern Europe, a love letter to her home country. Fueled by strong liquor and an epic ’80s playlist, we were dancing on the tables late into the night. Stumbling back to my apartment, I realized something else about Olia: She knows how to make people feel at home. Today, in London,…

IN ANCIENT KITCHENS or at modern tables, mustard’s fiery allure has stood the test of time. For millennia, Brassica juncea seeds have been favored for their pungent, earthy flavor and the spicy depth they lend to South Asian curries, Japanese condiments, barbecue sauces of the American South, and more. Sometime during the 13th century, Burgundian monks began combining pulverized mustard seeds with grape must (hence the name) and using the piquant concoction as a condiment and preservative. Now known as Dijon mustard, so-named for Burgundy’s capital city, this French spread hasn’t changed much since the Middle Ages. Whole brown mustard seeds are ground to a powder, exposing their aromatic interiors, then seasoned with salt and an acid—typically verjuice, the unfermented juice of unripe wine grapes—and thinned with water. In Dijon today,…

Hello, friend. since relaunching in print a year ago, we’ve avoided creating issues around specific themes. And yet, unifying threads still seem to weave themselves in. This time, many stories share an underpinning of love. Our latest Memory column is a split-screen between food-writing power couple Javier Cabral and Paola Briseño González, who share with us the story of their regional Mexican recipe-driven meet-cute. To illustrate senior editor Alex Testere’s “Kitchen Conversation” with Olia Hercules, the Ukrainian activist and author’s husband Joe Woodhouse photographs her in the couple’s leafy, bohemian London flat. Editorial assistant (and former pro baker) Ryan McCarthy conducts a deep dive into a Rhode Island pizza tradition beloved by his New England-born partner and her family. And digital director Frances Kim introduces us to the passionate distillers reviving…

LIKE TEQUILA AND MEZCAL, miske is an agave spirit. But unlike its Mexican cousins, which start with the baked core of the agave plant, the Ecuadorian distillate is made from raw sap. “I like to make the comparison to rum and cachaça,” says Eliot Logan-Hines, founder of Chawar. The former is often distilled from molasses and the latter from fresh cane juice. Many MacArthur Fellows use their Genius Grants to fund research; Logan-Hines pumped his into revitalizing this spirit, which is native to the Ecuadorian highlands. His 6-year-old brand honors the Andean tradition of harvesting agave sap. Unoaked miske is often grassy and faintly sweet, while oak-aged bottles like Chawar Reposado are reminiscent of American whiskey. Logan-Hines likes the latter on the rocks with an orange slice (as it’s traditionally…

AROUND THE WORLD, first and business class lounges are trading tired buffets and plastic-wrapped sandwiches for freshly shucked oysters, celebrity chef-crafted tasting menus, and cocktails that are anything but boring. Forget fast food on the go—next time you have a layover at one of these air-ports, be sure to bring your appetite. —Benjamin Kemper Los Angeles International Delta One Lounge Whether you opt for a tasting menu or go à la carte at this buzzy newcomer, you shouldn’t skip the inventive “antipasto martini” garnished with a charcuterie skewer. The feast is for your eyes, too, with décor curated by Missoni and a botanically abundant terrace. Post-nosh, grab some shut-eye in a nap pod or zero-gravity massage chair—just don’t miss your flight! —Alyse Whitney Arturo Merino Benítez International, Santiago, Chile LATAM VIP…

Before confessing that I’d like to keep cream cheese out of my cheesecake, I should also confess that I was born in Hartford, Connecticut, and am not a real New Yorker. Yes, my allegiance is to the Red Sox. ¶ Cream cheese as we know it is a New York food. It was created in the 1870s in Chester by a dairyman named William A. Lawrence who was trying to replicate French Neufchâtel but didn’t come close. The city folk took to the new, spreadable stuff anyway. Ironically, it was cream cheese makers from the Empire State who would later brand it “Philadelphia,” a nod to Pennsylvania’s well-known dairy farms. Was the New York worldview so narrow that they thought Philadelphia sounded exotic? The definitive New York food for many,…

ENTER ANY ITALIAN bakery in Rhode Island and you’ll immediately catch a whiff of warm bread and marinara. A reddish glow from the display case beckons you closer to the counter: Not quite pizza, not quite focaccia, Rhode Island pizza strips exist somewhere in a doughy space between. When I first moved to the Ocean State a decade ago, I was admittedly unaware of the saucy slices’ cultural importance. It wasn’t until I fell for a woman whose family served them at every function that I became a full-hearted champion for pizza strips. Since we moved to New York, no trip back to Providence is complete without visiting Sal’s Bakery, where my partner’s family has been loyal customers for three generations. Sometimes referred to as party pizza or bakery pizza,…

THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE has too few words to describe the textures of food. Innumerable sensations fall under the marquee of “crisp” or “crunchy,” but those terms fail to capture the nuances of, say, the juicy cleave of an apple versus the brittle crackle of a potato chip. Language, or a lack thereof, can shape perception. Sometimes, pinning a word to an experience—umami, for example—can reveal a latent appreciation for something that was there all along. Enter Q: the Taiwanese name for a range of textures that might be best translated as “bouncy.” Q is particularly coveted in Taiwan, but you can find an appreciation for this consistency across many cultures—in the snap of grilled cuttlefish, the tug of gummy candy, the spring of halloumi, the chew of fresh khao piak…

PASSING THROUGH CENTRAL GREECE, AN OUTSIDER could be forgiven for not stopping in Volos. Situated along the Aegean coast of Thessaly province, the industrial city is a grindingly monotonous patchwork of concrete block buildings; everything of historical interest was leveled during a series of devastating earthquakes in the 1950s. Yet, among Greeks, Volos is rightfully celebrated. To miss it would be to miss one of the Mediterranean’s finest culinary traditions: the tsipouradiko. A tsipouradiko, literally, is a place that serves tsipouro, the colorless Greek brandy distilled from grape pomace: the skins, seeds, and stems leftover from wine production. First distilled by the Orthodox monks of Mount Athos over 500 years ago, the spirit is intimately tied to ancient Greek winemaking traditions and is the country’s most varied and cherished distillate,…

WHEN PEOPLE OUTSIDE California imagine summertime on the Central Coast, they’re probably thinking of blue skies and ocean breezes grooming perfect surfing waves. In fact, it’s usually about 60 degrees here and the ocean is gnarly, the clouds like dark stubble on an unkempt sky. Ever the optimist, though, I keep a surfboard in my truck. Not that I have much time for surfing: Thursday through Sunday at Dad’s Luncheonette, my restaurant in Half Moon Bay, my team and I are cranking out hen of the woods sandwiches—topping the griddled mushrooms with pickled onions and a gooey fried egg—or we’re snipping herbs into seasonal salads. We’re frying potato chips by the gazillion and slamming them with so much umami-packed nutritional yeast that they taste almost meaty. We’re doing it all in…

As we jumped down the rabbit hole of New York City’s hot dog history, one name kept coming up: Nathan Handwerker, of Nathan’s Famous (pictured above, right, 1960). In July of 1916, the Polish Jewish immigrant started hawking his wife’s hot dogs in Coney Island at the corner of Surf and Stillwell Avenues. He marketed the franks—sold for a nickel apiece—as “kosher-style.” This assurance promised that, though not exactly rabbi-sanctioned, the dogs were free of pork and horse meat, crucial for hooking the local Jewish community. Still today, an afternoon on Brooklyn’s boardwalk is incomplete without a visit to Nathan’s original location. Whether unadorned; topped with ketchup, mustard, and kraut; or smothered in chili and cheese, the snack is as essential as a turn on the Wonder Wheel and embodies…

Cathy Erway Writer and Cookbook Author (Brooklyn, New York City) In Japan, I visited a little hut where I bought a traditional local delicacy: blowfish ovaries fermented with rice bran in wooden barrels. I keep imagining I’ll serve them as a snack for visitors, perhaps paired with sake. Matt Furman Photographer (San Diego, California) Lately, I’ve been obsessed with anything pickled and almost always have a big jar of pickled red onions in the fridge. I love adding them to nachos, sandwiches, salads, and more for some tanginess and a bit of crunch. Chaya Milchtein Writer and Automotive Educator (Milwaukee, Wisconsin) I always have a jar of tahini. I like to mix it with lemon, garlic, water, and spices and toss that with roasted veggies or use it as a…

FOR OVER A CENTURY, a store has sat on the scenic Road to Hāna that winds around to Maui’s teach eastern growers. coast. New Locals adaptive and tourists alike shop there for necessities, from beer and as well as the house blend coffee and ono grindz food”) like spam musubi, spicy takuan (pickled daikon), in 1910 by two Japanese brothers, Shoichi and Saburo Hasegawa, the business is now somewhat of a landmark—and the family’s living legacy, with Shoichi’s kindhearted great-grandson Neil at the helm. (He’s kept the lights on, despite a fire in 1990 and the COVID-19 pandemic.) In a 1961 song by the same name, Paul Weston immortalized the Hasegawa General Store as the place to be. Sixty-four years later, that sound advice, like the beloved island shop, endures.…

AS THE SUN SETS in a blaze of orange over the golden domes of Karbala, drums beat and black-clad pilgrims pack the streets of one of Iraq’s holiest Shia cities, a two-hour drive south of Baghdad. Some 22 million believers have descended upon Karbala (population: 600,000), as they do every August for Arbaeen, the largest annual gathering of people in the world. And those people have to eat. From a rooftop, I watch endless processions of pilgrims inch toward the shrine of Husayn ibn Ali—a grandson of the prophet Mohammed, who was martyred at the Battle of Karbala in 680 c.e. Everywhere you look, there’s food: women seasoning chicken in big copper vats, men grilling skewers of meat over hot coals, bakers slapping samoon (Iraq’s signature flatbread) into makeshift tandoor…

ASK BREWERS WHAT they drink after a long shift, and the answer is almost always “lager.” Crisp and refreshing, the humble style fell out of vogue in craft beer circles in recent decades, edged out by hoppy and hazy IPAs. But that’s all changing: American small-batch breweries are reintroducing flavor to a style that’s long been considered a little meh. Lagers go down light because they’re bottom fermented at cold temperatures. The category (which encompasses pilsners) ranges from pale yellow to nearly black, depending on the type of malt used. Those grains—usually a wheat and barley mix, plus hops and water—are lagers’ main ingredients. See how brewers are re-imagining the formula by sipping one of the novel, nuanced beers below. The Standard Notch Brewing • Massachusetts Soft carbonation, hints of…

IF YOU KNOW what running through a meadow smells like, that olfactory memory may be rooted in sweet vernal grass (Anthoxanthum odoratum). The weed, dried and used in cooking, is beloved for its vanilla, caramel, and almond aromas. (It also comes with a disclaimer: Don’t ingest it in large quantities, as it contains a blood thinner called coumarin.) The plant, which has a long culinary history, is seeing a revival. Chef Ari Ruoho of Restaurant Nokka in Helsinki adds it to cooked apples and cream. Chef Anne-Sophie Pic of Maison Pic in southeastern France uses it to flavor pasta fillings. At Normandy’s D’une Île, diners savor chicken steamed under a sweet vernal grass blanket. And in Northern California, Chez Panisse’s Gary Podesto infuses silky Bavarian cream with the weed for…

WINDSof CHANGE A Croatian cheese relies on maritime gusts—but the winds are dying down. OFF THE NORTHERN COAST OF CROATIA, the narrow island of Pag sits like a craggy shard that tumbled into the Adriatic from the nearby Velebit Mountains. Despite its small size and rocky terrain, it is home to three foods that bear the European Union’s coveted Protected Designation of Origin (PDO) seal: salt, lamb, and Paski Sir cheese. The milk for this award-winning wheel—Croatia’s bestknown product—comes from Pag’s small, sturdy native sheep, which graze on wild grasses and aromatic herbs. That mix of flora is key to the cheese’s flavor, as is the cold winter wind, called the “bura” in Croatian, that whips down from the Velebit, blowing the sea’s salty spray across the sheep’s pasture. Like fog in…

Ambting THROUGH THE DESERT BRUSH, HIGH IN THE IN-KO-PAH Mountains of southeastern California, chef Aaron Lopez stops every so often to point out something edible. Here, brittlebush, with sage-colored leaves that smell like rosemary when crushed between your fingers; there, yucca, which, in the summer, sends out bell-shaped blossoms that you can stuff and fry, like a starchier fior di zucca. The branching cholla cactus produces flower buds that taste somewhere between artichokes and asparagus. “They’re like our truffle,” Lopez tells me. I was tagging along on a morning trip to one of the chef’s go-to foraging spots, a 40-minute drive west of Ursa, his restaurant in El Centro. The In-Ko-Pah range and the Jacumba Mountains directly to the east appear, at times, like giant boulders sliding into the valley below.…

American Merroir WHETHER IN BIG FLAKES, coarse crystals, or a fine grind, salt is often an afterthought. Yet just as geography begets different tastes and textures in wine and oysters, it also creates a multitude of flavors and sensations in salt. But don’t take our word for it: Test drive these small-batch U.S. sea salts yourself. Whether you’re salting the rim of a margarita or putting the final flourish on a dry-aged rib eye, a cellar (see “Worth Their Salt,” p. 38) filled with crystals from one of these locales will transport you from sea to shining sea.—Jessica Carbone York, Maine The limited-production offerings from Slack Tide Sea Salt are hand-harvested at high tide, when the waters are cleanest, just before the tidal stream goes slack (still from movement). Operating…