Bought some daikon that’s quite bitter when eating raw. So I tried these remedies after a web search:

1. slice it up, salt it heavily, let it sit in a collander for >30 min to drip out bitter liquids, rinse, add to stir-fry
2. simply steam it

The first approach worked, but the saltiness remains even though the salt was rinsed off. It was still decent as a salty taste happened to be compatible with the stir-fry.

The 2nd approach was a disaster (even though I peeled it as well as the bitter tastes can be concentrated in the skin). I was skeptical when I read an article claiming that simply steaming the daikon removes the bitterness. I tested the claim by steaming for like 30—40 min. It was not instantly bitter but as I chewed it it became increasingly excessively bitter. I’m sure it would have ruined the miso soup I was originally planning to put it in.

I got a 2nd opinion. Someone else tasted the same steamed daikon as I did and said it did not taste very bitter. Of course there is a dilemma here: either the other person does not perceive the strong level of bitter taste (due to human genetic differences), or they are simply not bothered by it. We could not work out how to test which case it was.

2 theories for why people /think/ steaming works

Daikon can be bitter for a number of reasons: genetics of the veg, harvesting of it (particularly the timing), and storage (to a lesser extent).

① I wonder if people who claim cooking alone is sufficient are perhaps buying daikon that is not notably bitter to begin with.

② The human genetic factor: some people do not taste some bitter compounds.

In any case, I would like to know if anyone has other techniques to preparing bitter varieties daikon.

Hey any ideas how to correct when I used smoked paprika rather than plain chilli?

Other things involved honey, ginger, star anise, orange rinde

Looking for flaxseed oil that tastes as little as possible like a painter's studio or a well-maintained Difference Engine smells ... I hear this is now possible and has been done, but don't know who does it in the USA.

Use case: being usable in as wide an array of foods as possible to increase my ALA intake since I live with vegans and rarely eat fish nowadays.

Started making my own unusual tofu

I got really inspired by Mary's Test Kitchen on YT. This one is green split pea, it was delicious but I didn't do a good enough job decanting off the milk from the starch. Ultimately what I'd like to do is try this with some of our very obscure native edibles, like thicket bean, bundleseed, etc.

If this successfully crossposts to Lemmy, you may only see one pic and have to click through to see the rest!

#tofu #MarysTestKitchen #peas @food@beehaw.org

Despite tea’s astounding popularity globally, the United States has long lagged behind many other countries when it comes to tea consumption, and that conception of tea has mostly been limited to iced black tea. This, however, appears to be changing, with the U.S. importing far more tea — in the hundreds of millions of dollars — this decade than it did 30 years ago, with millennials in particular the most likely to be tea drinkers. Matcha is, obviously, everywhere; according to the New Consumer, it usurped chai as the leading specialty tea drink in cafes. A lot more tea, it seems, is about to follow, as new tea-focused businesses sprout up across the country and as tea sees increased applications as a flavor element in food, desserts, and cocktails in addition to its consumption as a standalone drink.

Across the country, teahouses with a similar ethos to Enoki’s are catering to the desire for another kind of space: one that feels slower and more intentional than the average coffee shop, and which offers a different experience than yet another restaurant or high-end cocktail bar.

On March 18, Ron Vachris became the first CEO in recent memory to go viral for something positive. That day, he was featured in a 41-second Instagram video he took on his lunch break. In it, he orders one of his company’s signature $1.50 hot dogs, sits down at a food court table, unsheaths the quarter-pound-plus frankfurter, and takes a huge bite.

While he’s polishing off that famous Costco weiner, he looks into the camera and says, “The hot dog price will not change as long as I’m around.” The clip piled up nearly 9 million views in a single day.

As soon as the post went up, Vachris started receiving messages. Most of them, he tells me over email, went something like this: “It looks like you have enjoyed many hot dogs over the years.”

The overwhelmingly enthusiastic response to the video surprised Vachris, who started at Costco as a forklift driver. “This was done with a cellphone in a warehouse,” he says. “And that’s us, no frills!” He knows the truth: The flowers were not for him. “The Costco hot dog is the star,” he says before dressing up his zinger with a little extra mustard. “I was just along for the ride.”

That might sound like cheeky corporate propaganda, but Vachris is right. There is no fast food item as beloved as the Costco hot dog. For a buck fifty—the price has stayed the same since it was introduced in the ’80s—you get an all-beef dog and a fountain soda (or now, a bottle of water). In the 2025 fiscal year, the warehouse club reportedly sold 245 million of those combos. There’s a reason why Julia Child herself used to eat two Costco dogs at a time with mustard and sauerkraut.

The fact that the Costco dog is inflation proof doesn’t hurt its case, either. “It costs $1.50, and it doesn’t taste like nuclear waste to most people,” says Jamie Loftus, author of the book Raw Dog: The Naked Truth About Hot Dogs. “Because there are other $1.50 hot dogs out there. They’re very, very rare now. But even rarer is that you would recommend them to someone or eat them out of anything other than a need for survival.”

In a world where the McDonald’s Dollar Menu is long gone, a 7-Eleven dog costs over $2, and it’s a challenge to stay on budget at Taco Bell, the Costco frank stands alone. It is America’s greatest hot dog. And the country’s last great deal.

Kind of a local post for the Pittsburgh region.

Our local Turners Dairy informed my grocery store that they had a new time-limited Strawberry Lemonade, so my manager bought a case. It came in today, and I snagged one to try it. (I'm typically a Snapple kind of guy).

Ok, so not trying to be too rude to Turners here, but what they actually did was combine their Lemonade with an orange concentrate, which they are marketing as Strawberry Lemonade. Total bait and switch. It has no strawberry at all. Not ingredient-wise. Not taste wise.

I for one think its total shit. If you are in this region, and are curious to try it, just don't. And if you work for Turners, please learn to understand the difference between strawberry and orange. They're not even in the same family of taste.