Ramadan traditions vary across the Arab world, but one remains constant: the almost compulsory soup at the iftar table. The presence of soup is so prevalent and expected that one might mistake it for a religious obligation. For many in the Arab world, breaking fast begins with a glass of water and three dates before moving on to soup and salad, eventually crescendoing into the rest of the iftar meal, the evening meal that marks the end of the daily fast.

In Algeria and Tunisia, this soup is often the rich and hearty chorba frik, Arabic for "freekeh soup." It features tender lamb or beef, creamy chickpeas, and smoky cracked freekeh—pronounced frik in Tunisian and Algerian dialects. Freekeh is made from young green durum wheat that’s fire-roasted, giving it its signature toasty richness and pleasant chew. Layered with warm and fruity spices like paprika and cinnamon, the cooling flavors of fresh cilantro and dried mint, and subtle chile heat, the soup is deeply satisfying, texturally intriguing, and complex.

While eaten year-round in Algeria and Tunisia, chorba frik appears on the table almost every evening during Ramadan. Although it is typically served as a starter, it’s substantial enough to be eaten as a full meal. Variations of the soup exist from household to household throughout both countries. Some versions use chicken instead of the more common lamb or beef, while others incorporate puréed vegetables like zucchini and potatoes or vary the seasonings. Nowadays many people prepare it in a pressure cooker, but I developed this version to be slowly simmered on the stovetop, so there’s no need for a special cooking appliance.

In my recipe the lamb is first lightly seared, which develops a rich, roasted flavor. Dried chickpeas cook with aromatics and the lamb, becoming creamy at the same rate the meat tenderizes. An optional serrano pepper, left whole, lends a mild kick. While some recipes call for cooking the freekeh separately to ensure it’s tender but still retains a slight chew, I’ve streamlined my recipe by adding the freekeh directly to the soup to simmer for the last 15 to 18 minutes. As the freekeh cooks in the broth, the soup will become noticeably thicker. It should be hearty and stew-like but still liquid enough to count as a soup. If it becomes too thick, just adjust the consistency with additional water as you see fit. If adding water, just make sure to taste again for seasoning, and add more salt if needed. 

This soup will serve four as a starter, but because it’s a particularly thick and ample soup, it can make a filling meal for two. Finish the soup with an extra sprinkling of cilantro and a squeeze of bright lemon for a final bright kick of flavor.

 In a medium bowl, cover chickpeas with 1 inch of room temperature water. Add 2 1/2 teaspoons salt and baking soda, stirring briefly to combine, then cover loosely and let soak at room temperature at least 8 and up to 12 hours. Drain and rinse before using.

In a large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven, heat oil and ghee over medium-high heat until just smoking. Add lamb and cook, stirring occasionally, until lightly browned on all sides, about 8 minutes.

Reduce heat to medium, add onion, and cook, stirring occasionally and scraping bottom of pot as needed, until onion is softened, about 5 minutes. Add tomato paste, coriander, ginger, paprika, mint, cinnamon, and black pepper and cook, stirring constantly, until spices are fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in tomatoes, cilantro, drained chickpeas, water, 2 1/2 teaspoons salt, and chile pepper, if using. Bring to a simmer, cover, then lower heat to medium-low and cook, adjusting heat as needed to maintain simmer, until lamb and beans are tender, 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 hours.

Stir in freekeh, bring to a simmer, and cook, covered, until freekeh is tender, 15 to 18 minutes. Soup should be hearty but still brothy enough to qualify as a chunky soup; add additional water to thin if needed. Season with salt to taste.

Divide soup into individual bowls, sprinkle with more cilantro, and serve with lemon wedges.

Special Equipment

Kitchen scale, large heavy-bottomed pot or Dutch oven, fine-mesh strainer 

Notes

Although less commonly used in chorba frik, canned chickpeas may be used instead of dried ones. If using canned chickpeas, omit step 1, and substitute with one 15-ounce can drained and rinsed chickpeas. Reduce salt to 2 teaspoons and add the canned chickpeas at the same time as the freekeh.

Beef chuck may be used in place of the lamb in the recipe, following the same steps as written.

Ghee can be purchased from Middle Eastern, Indian, and South Asian grocery stores. It is also increasingly found in many American grocery stores. 

Cracked freekeh can be purchased from Middle Eastern grocery stores and ordered online.

Make-Ahead and Storage

Leftovers can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 4 days. The chickpeas and freekeh absorb more and more of the liquid the longer the soup sits; be sure to add more water to restore the desired soup consistency and adjust with salt and pepper to taste.

Le Creuset and Staub are two brands that top our reviews time and time again. Be it a grill pan or an enameled cast iron skillet, the quality and performance of cookware from Le Creuset and Staub are hard to match. That’s why we think it’s worth the investment every time, but it’s even better to score these heirloom pieces on sale. Williams Sonoma has an abundance of Le Creuset and Staub cookware on sale, with up to 47% off Dutch ovens and bakeware. Serious Eats editors chimed in (of course) on the deals they’re coveting, like this deep Staub cast iron cocotte that’s nearly 50% off.

The Best Staub and Le Creuset Sales at Williams Sonoma at a Glance

• A Deeper Version of a Dutch Oven We Love: Staub 3-Quart Enameled Cast Iron Deep Oven
• A Square Covered Baker: Le Creuset 2-Quart Heritage Stoneware Square Baker
• A Fun, Embossed Baker: Staub Enameled Cast Iron Oval Gratin with Sea Bass Embossed Lid
• A Long Version of Our Favorite Dutch Oven: Le Creuset Signature Enameled Cast Iron Oval Dutch Oven
• Whimsical Mini Cocottes: Le Creuset Stoneware Mini Round Cocotte
• An Enameled Cast Iron Baker: Le Creuset Signature Oval Gratin Baker
• A Versatile Set of Baking Dishes: Le Creuset Heritage Stoneware Baker, Set of 2
• A Summer-Ready Staub Cocotte: Staub 3-Quart Enameled Cast Iron Tomato Cocotte

Staub 3-Quart Enameled Cast Iron Deep Oven

I really wish I hadn't seen this. Now, I have to try and resist my shopper's urge to jump on all these deals. That green, deep 3-quart Staub cocotte at nearly half off? It’s one of our favorite Dutch ovens, too. Or the same color on their covered gratin dish? Or the Le Creuset baker for a hundred bucks? I can't see these things! Look away! Look away!! — Daniel Gritzer, editorial director

Le Creuset 2-Quart Heritage Stoneware Shallow Square Covered Baker

Can't you picture a batch of gooey fudge brownies in this square baking pan? I sure can, which is why I'm adding it to my cart right now. I have a feeling the Olive color is going to sell out fast at 30% off. — Rochelle Bilow, editor

Staub Enameled Cast Iron Oval Gratin with Sea Bass Embossed Lid

My dog’s name is Fish, so I feel it's imperative I own this baking dish with sea bass on it. I have no further reason, but dog people will know this is justification enough! — Riddley Gemperlein-Schirm, associate editorial director

Le Creuset Signature Enameled Cast Iron Oval Dutch Oven

This Le Creuset Dutch oven is absolutely iconic. I used to have it in orange (long story about why I don't have it anymore). I used it all the time for stews, braises, soups, and no-knead bread. While our favorite classic round Dutch oven isn’t on sale, this extra-long oval one is $175 off. I love anything in the blue-green range of colors, and Ocean is stunning. — Megan O. Steintrager, associate editorial director 

Le Creuset Stoneware Mini Round Cocotte

I do not own these, but if someone wants to buy me a set of these adorable mini cocottes, please do! They're so cute and perfect for single servings of mac and cheese, onion soup, or bread pudding. — Genevieve Yam, culinary editor

Le Creuset Signature Enameled Cast Iron Oval Gratin Baker

Do I need a gratin baker? No. Will I buy this stunning dish anyway? Absolutely. I can already envision the cheesy, baked shingles of potato bubbling away as I set it on the table to cool. — Grace Kelly, editor

I collected a lot of As Seen on TV products as a kid: Japanese knives, a rotisserie oven, veggie choppers—you name it. I would convince my parents I needed it (what can I say? I was a little different). For years, the one item I used most was a stoneware casserole dish until it cracked and finally broke apart. I was upset, but now I can replace it with this Le Creuset gratin baker. I can get it in a cute color, and it's guaranteed to last. — Kelli Solomon, senior social media editor

Le Creuset Heritage Stoneware Baker, Set of 2

Everyone needs a great baking dish, so why not get two?! I love that these baking dishes are so cute. You can go straight from the oven to the dinner table—no serving dishes required. The little handles are not only adorable but also practical for easier grabbing. — Leah Colins, senior culinary editor

Staub 3-Quart Enameled Cast Iron Tomato Cocotte

Holy moly, I might be in love with this Staub tomato cocotte. Though summer feels miles away, the bright red color and plump sides already have me daydreaming about roasted tomato ziti in the garden. It's made of the same durable enameled cast iron as our editor-favorite Staub Dutch oven, so you can expect the same even heat retention and distribution when cooking with this absolutely whimsical piece of cookware. — An Uong, writer

Why We’re the Experts

• An Uong is a writer for Serious Eats.
• An has been testing kitchen gear for Serious Eats for over two years.
• We’ve put Le Creuset and Staub cookware through rigorous testing for years and have pieces from these brands in our own kitchens.
  

I wouldn’t say my life’s predictable, but my day always starts with a cup of coffee. 

About five years ago, I went through a spate of food allergy testing—and one of them required cutting out dairy. I started drinking my morning coffee black, which made me super picky about coffee quality and kicked off my journey through Bean Land. Now, I own too many brewers and can tell you that the Ratio Six makes the best drip coffee I’ve ever had.

There are so many qualities that make the Ratio a standout. For starters, the flat-bottomed basket and wide showerhead result in evenly saturated, full-flavored coffee. It consistently makes a full pot in about five minutes (which is in line with the Speciality Coffee Association’s brewer certifications) and works at consistently high temperatures, which extracts more from coffee. 

Because my husband and I both work remotely, we like to replenish our coffee mugs throughout the morning. The Ratio Six’s insulated carafe keeps coffee hot—as in, it’s still a piping 168°F after an hour. The machine is easy to use, too, since it has just a single control button. 

However, while I’d like to say that the Ratio Six is all sunshine, rainbows, and caffeine, it does have its issues. Namely, it can be kind of annoying to use. The water reservoir’s opening is a small-ish hole, which leads to splashes. The Ratio Six also has a lot of parts. There’s the carafe, the carafe’s lid, the brew basket, a plate, and the piece that creates a seal over the showerhead. After brewing, you have to remove the basket, place it onto the plate, and add the lid to the carafe. This makes it tedious to use and clean, and I’ve always found it annoying. That said, I love the Ratio Six despite its flaws—and because the coffee it makes is unbeatable. If you’re a coffee person, I think you’ll find it worth investing in, too.

Why We’re the Experts

• Riddley Gemperlein-Schirm is the associate editorial director of Serious Eats. 
• She’s been with the site since 2021 and has been testing gear professionally for more than six years. 
• She really, truly loves coffee and helped to test espresso machines.
  

It's hard to think of a food that isn't made better once battered and fried. It's true of chicken, of fish, of okra, and even Oreos. Whoever first battered and deep-fried sliced pickles was almost certainly operating under the same ironclad logic.

I still remember the first time I tasted the delicacy, even though it was at least 20 years ago: I was sitting outside with my family at a restaurant somewhere on the Gulf Coast in Alabama on the way from Louisiana to Perdido Key, Florida, and—as a family of crispy-food fans and pickle lovers—we just had to order fried pickles when we spotted them on the menu.

I can't tell you the name of the restaurant, but I can describe every last detail of those juicy, tart, and salty pickle slices. The coating was crisp and well seasoned—perfect for eating as-is, and even better dipped in the ranch dressing that was served on the side. It's hard to top my memory of those pickles—honestly, it's hard to top anything served with ocean breezes and fortified by years of nostalgia—but our Birmingham-based colleague Julia Levy's fried pickles that we're sharing the recipe for here are a very close second (I'm actually pretty sure hers are objectively superior to the ones from my family trip, but the Proustian power of my memory clouds my judgement).

"What makes fried pickles so special is the contrasting textures; they are super crispy and crunchy on the outside but juicy, soft, and tangy on the inside," Julia says. "Fried foods always want something acidic to balance out the oiliness, but fried pickles don’t need that—it’s a two-in-one, a two-fer, a win/win, a..dare I say, perfect food? That might be a bit hyperbolic, but they are wonderful."

How to Make Perfectly Crispy Fried Pickles

Unlike foods like shrimp and chicken that can get woefully dried out when improperly fried, pickles are pretty much impossible to desiccate. A fragile coating that falls off during frying or on the way to your mouth is a much bigger concern with pickles, since their vinegary brine is too thin to form a good foundation for a breaded coating. Much better is viscous buttermilk, which coats and clings to the pickle slices and gives the dry ingredients something to really cling onto and soak into. The key, though, is to pat the pickle slices dry before dipping in the buttermilk, otherwise the pickle brine will thin the buttermilk, reducing its viscosity and undermining its ability to form a strong coating that will stay put.

After their dip in buttermilk, the slices are coated in a mixture that includes finely ground cornmeal (be sure not to use coarse cornmeal, which is too chunky for this batter), along with all-purpose flour, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, cayenne pepper, and just a bit of salt—we want the batter to be well seasoned, but not overly salty since the pickles themselves are already quite salty. Once they're battered, into the hot oil they go until the cornmeal batter is browned and crispy.

The oil is at the relatively high temperature of 375°F—hot even by deep-frying standards. That's because the only real goal here is crisping and browning the coating, since the pickle slices themselves don't actually need to be cooked through. A lower temperature and longer frying time would just drag the process out, possibly sacrificing some of the pickle's juicy bite. 

Life Is Better With Bacon-Ranch Dipping Sauce 

Fried pickles taste good on their own, but they're even better with a creamy dipping sauce. You can use store-bought or homemade plain ranch dressing or rémoulade, but if you're a bacon eater I strongly encourage you to try Julia's homemade bacon-ranch, which includes cooked bacon bits along with the bacon drippings for extra flavor. It also gets tartness from some of the brine from the jar of pickles, as well as a welcome dose of fresh flavor from dill and chives. It's also good with other fried foods, such as fried green tomatoes and fried chicken, on burgers, or pretty much anywhere else you'd use regular ranch.  

Now when I dream about fried pickles, this recipe is the vision that floats to the top of my mind, right after those long-ago ones on the Gulf. Come to think of it, these fried pickles would be damn delicious alongside this equally killer fried pickle–inspired dip. A person can dream.

For the Bacon-Ranch: In a large cast iron skillet set over medium heat, cook bacon, stirring occasionally, until crisp, 4 to 6 minutes. Using a slotted spoon, transfer bacon to a paper towel–lined plate; reserve drippings.

In a medium bowl, stir together mayonnaise, sour cream, pickle brine, dill, chives, garlic, and black pepper. Fold in cooked bacon and 1 1/2 teaspoons of reserved drippings. Cover and refrigerate until ready to use. Wipe skillet clean.

Arrange drained pickle slices on a large paper towel–lined plate; pat dry. In a wide, shallow bowl, combine buttermilk and black pepper. Add pickles, stirring to evenly coat with buttermilk mixture.

Line a 13- by 18-inch rimmed baking sheet with parchment or wax paper; set aside. In another wide, shallow bowl, whisk cornmeal, flour, garlic powder, onion powder, paprika, cayenne, and salt to combine. Working with several pickle slices at a time, toss to evenly coat pickle slices with cornmeal mixture. Place dredged pickles on prepared lined baking sheet.

Line another 13- by 18-inch rimmed baking sheet with paper towels; set aside. Fill the same cast iron skillet with 3/4-inch of oil and heat over medium-high until oil registers 375ºF (190ºC) on an instant-read thermometer. Working in batches of about 8, carefully add pickles, sliding them in from as close to the oil’s surface as possible to minimize splashing. Fry pickles, using a spider skimmer or slotted spoon to turn them occasionally, until golden brown and crisp about 1 1/2 minutes. Transfer to prepared baking sheet. Season with salt and serve with bacon ranch.

Special Equipment

Large cast iron skillet, two 13- by 18-inch rimmed baking sheets, instant-read thermometer, spider skimmer or slotted spoon

Notes

If your preferred brand of pickles isn't sold in slices, you can slice whole pickles into 1/4-inch-thick rounds. 

Make-Ahead and Storage 

Bacon-ranch can be prepared up to 1 week ahead and stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator. 

Pickles can be breaded and frozen for up to 3 months: Prepare through step 4, and after breading and arranging on a parchment- or wax paper–lined baking sheet, freeze until firm, then transfer to a zip-top bag or airtight container. Cook from frozen according to the recipe directions, adding up to 2 minutes if necessary. 

Fried pickles are best eaten immediately but leftovers may be stored in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 4 days. To reheat in an air fryer: Place on air fryer rack and reheat at 350ºF (175ºC) until warmed through. To reheat in the oven: Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Place fried pickles on a wire rack set inside a rimmed baking sheet and reheat until warmed through, about 6 minutes.

Carrots are an incredibly adaptable vegetable. In the colder months I love them roasted until carmelized and sweet or cooked on the stovetop and bathed in a buttery glaze. But once spring hits, I like to embrace their crunch and eat them raw, with recipes like this fresh carrot and raisin salad developed by our Birmingham-based test kitchen colleague Elizabeth Mervosh. In this salad, grated carrots and plump raisins are tossed with a creamy mayonnaise-based dressing, which gets a refreshing acidity from vinegar, orange juice, and lemon juice. The salad is topped with crunchy pistachios right before serving. Each bite is bursting with fruity, tart, sweet, and savory flavors. 

This slightly sweet vegetable side dish is just as great served at casual cookouts as it is at a formal Easter brunch. It takes only a few minutes to prepare and there’s no need to even turn on your oven. Here are a few tips to perfect it.

3 Simple Techniques for the Perfect Carrot and Raisin Salad

1. Shred the carrots for the best salad. For a salad with just the right amount of crunch, Elizabeth recommends shredding the carrots. She found in testing that carrots cut other ways just didn’t work as well: Grated carrots were too mealy and were lost in the dressing, carrot ribbons were too slippery, and sliced raw carrots were too hard to bite through. Shredding the carrots is best for a pleasantly crunchy salad. While you can do this on the holes of a box grater, butto prevent sore muscles and scratched knuckles, we recommend shredding the carrot with the disc attachment of a food processor. 

2. Take a few minutes to plump the raisins. Raisins in this salad add a welcome pop of sweetness. But to make them even better, we found that microwaving them with a simple dressing of orange juice, vinegar, and honey plumps the raisins to produce a more tender texture, and letting the raisins marinate briefly in the warmed juice mixture infuses them with bright citrus flavor. Once the raisins are drained, we don't let that flavorful juice mixture go to waste—it’s whisked with lemon juice, more honey, and mayonnaise to complete the dressing.

3. Serve the salad immediately. Once the carrots, raisins, and pistachios are tossed with the dressing, we recommend serving the salad immediately. The salt in the dressing will begin to leach moisture from the carrots over time, creating a soupy salad with a wet puddle at the bottom. If a puddle does form before serving, just drain off some of the excess moisture or toss the salad again to redistribute the liquid right before serving.

On the large holes of a box grater, shred carrots. Alternatively, carrots can be shredded with disk attachment of a food processor. You should have about 3 1/2 cups shredded carrots.

In a small microwave-safe bowl, whisk together orange juice, vinegar, and 1 teaspoon honey until combined and honey dissolves; add raisins and toss to coat. Microwave on high until orange juice mixture is hot and bubbling, about 45 seconds. Let sit, stirring every 5 minutes, until raisins are plump and softened, about 15 minutes.

In a fine-mesh strainer set over a medium bowl, drain raisins, reserving the orange juice mixture in the medium bowl; set raisins aside. Whisk mayonnaise, lemon juice, salt, and remaining 2 teaspoons honey into the reserved orange juice mixture.

Add carrots, plumped raisins, and pistachios, and toss to coat. Serve immediately. 

Special Equipment

Microwave-safe small bowl, box grater or food processor with shredding disk attachment

Make-Ahead and Storage

The carrots can be shredded and refrigerated in an airtight container up to 2 days before making the salad.

We strongly suggest tossing the salad right before serving, but leftovers can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 2 days. Note that the salad will become more watery as it sits, and you may need to drain excess liquid before serving.

My in-laws kindly gave me a Lodge Dutch oven when I graduated from college, and at the time, I had no idea what to do with it. Oh, how naive I was. Since then, I’ve thankfully discovered the many wonderful feats a Dutch oven can accomplish, like slow-cooking barbecue beans or baking crusty bread. After owning and loving my Lodge Dutch oven for over ten years, I can confidently say that it’s an essential—no, critical—part of my kitchen. Do I daydream about one day buying a Le Creuset? Sure. But am I happy with this Lodge workhorse that’s been our budget pick for years? Absolutely, especially since it costs hundreds less. In fact, it’s even cheaper now that it’s on sale for just $80.

The Takeaways

It Excels at Searing, Braising, and Baking 

I know people with much more expensive Dutch ovens, and there isn’t a single thing theirs can do that my Lodge Dutch oven can’t. It’s been my partner in crime through several Thanksgiving feasts, having baked tons of vegan stuffing and simmered butternut squash soup. Its enameled cast iron heats well and can sear a thick cut of cauliflower to ideal crispiness.

It Can Handle Very High Heat

The Lodge Dutch oven especially shines when it comes to baking sourdough bread. It’s churned out hundreds of loaves in three different kitchens throughout my time with it. Every loaf comes out crispy, golden, and with plenty of oven spring (pending a successful bulk fermentation, of course). Since baking sourdough requires a blast of intense heat at the start, this piece of cookware has seen oven temperatures up to 505°F without any signs of wear.

It’s Comfortable to Use

The wide handles have an exceptionally lovely curve to them, making it easy to carry the Lodge around my kitchen. I never have to worry about my grip on the Dutch oven because I’m able to grasp it firmly, even if I’m wearing bulky oven mitts. Its curved sides set it apart from other Dutch ovens for me. The gently sloped walls promote smooth stirring for saucing pasta and evenly dispersing ingredients in stews.

It Lasts for Ages (If Treated Nicely)

In our tests, the Lodge’s enamel did exhibit chipping when we knocked on its rim with a wooden spoon. However, in my 10-plus years of using it, my Lodge hasn’t chipped or scratched even once. Whenever it builds up staining from a particularly enthusiastic cooking project, I’m able to clear any brown spots with a scouring pad, regular dish soap, and warm water. While it may not be a Dutch oven to knock around the kitchen, it’ll last a long time if you maintain it with proper care.

Do I Recommend It?

After using the Lodge Dutch oven for over a decade, I can confidently say that this is the best Dutch oven you could get your hands on for under $100. It cooks thoroughly, has a pleasing design, and will last a long time if treated well. It’s a do-it-all piece of cookware that’s been our top budget pick for years, thanks to its impressive performance for the price. Speaking of price, it’s even cheaper now that it’s 40% off, making it a reasonable $80.

Lodge 6-Quart Enamel Cast Iron Dutch Oven

Why We’re the Experts

• An Uong is a writer for Serious Eats.
• An has been testing kitchen equipment for Serious Eats for two years.
• She’s a self-professed Lodge fan girl with an ever-growing collection of Lodge cast iron cookware.
  

The low ceiling of my London flat was filled with festive smoke. Saffron, cardamom, and cloves slowly infused in sugar syrup while I cooked roasted vermicelli with ghee in another pan for the seviyan dessert. I hadn’t cooked like this in years, and my small London flat’s smoke alarm was close to activation.

It was my first Eid away from my family, and partly, it felt liberating. Growing up in Pakistan, I had grown tired of familial expectations, especially around the Eid holidays. I moved to London when I was thirty-three, before later moving to Scotland, and I was looking for a chance at a new life. I was relieved to get away from small talk over samosas and chai with relatives and chewing politely behind a saccharine smile. I accepted that Eid would be lonely living in the U.K. and that suited me just fine.

There were some moments I knew I’d miss, like waking up to the warm scents of cardamom and roasted vermicelli. Each Eid morning, Mummy made my Dadi (paternal grandmother) her Qawami seviyan (pictured above), which included sixteen parts sugar to one part fine roasted vermicelli, along with cloves, saffron, and cardamom. This was an indulgent Eid breakfast in our home that I looked forward to, but that delight was often dulled by my mother’s narration of the day's visits to family members. It was the judgment from relatives that I hated most—those sideways glances and hushed tones about my divorce, or the eyebrow raises at my tattooed arms peeping through my kurta sleeve.

The month of Ramadan itself felt unceremonious in England. I missed the shorter working days Ramadan brought with it in Pakistan. On the way home from work when I was in Pakistan, we’d pick up fried snacks to break the fast with at iftar. Every street corner would be lined with stalls selling chickpea battered deep-fried pakoras, and saffron syrup-dipped donuts called jalebis just before sunset. Around the end of Ramadan, my mother would buy boxes full of groceries to give to families in need for Eid. Thinking of shopping with my cousins on Chand Raat (the night before Eid), and the organized chaos of the bazaars where we’d stain our hands with henna patterns and buy coloured glass bangles to match our new Eid outfits filled me with nostalgia.

In England, there was none of that. I’d convinced myself to try and conform with my new surroundings and didn’t tell anyone I was fasting. I had to work as usual through Ramadan and my hunger would peak at midday when my colleagues consumed sandwiches and salads at their desks in our open-plan office. One day at lunchtime, I decided to join them in the office cafeteria so I could get to know people. Alice, my boss, asked why I wasn’t eating, and I told her about Ramadan and Eid. I shared stories of my mother’s cooking and the all-encompassing scents of saffron and cardamom that always wafted through our kitchen, the itchy Eid clothes I’d wear, the clinking glass bangles that graced my arms, and the henna on my palms. I also told her about the aunties and uncles with their judgment and gossip. Before I knew it, my stories of warmer places and delicious food led Alice to invite herself over alongside my friends for Eid.

For years, Mummy had picked on me for not learning Eid recipes, and now I wished so much that I’d paid attention. With the help of long phone calls with my mother, I found myself immersed in curating the perfect Eid menu to impress my boss. Mummy gave me vague lists of ingredients, and I attempted to convert her confusing instructions into actual measurements and methods. Finally, I decided to make Sindhi biryani, a layered rice dish with pomegranate and dried plums with mutton or beef, and haleem, a lentil and meat porridge with garam masala, as well as fresh homemade naans; for dessert, I opted for my Dadi’s seviyan and rasmalai, sweet cottage cheese dumplings in milk.

My local South Asian store had most ingredients for the biryani like aloo bukhara (dried plum) and anardana (dried pomegranate), as well as the roasted fine vermicelli for seviyan. Mutton for the biryani, however, proved more problematic, so I resorted to using beef. I decided to attempt my mother’s dahi baras as well—these comforting chickpea flour dumplings with cool yogurt, tamarind, and mint chutneys were always on the Eid table. As I walked through the aisles of the store, the familiar spice labels and the shelves filled with Pakistani rice and atta flour filled me with an ache for home. I longed for my mother’s cooking; I even missed her voice that berated me to learn to cook.

As I prepared for the Eid lunch that day, heating whole spices in ghee, something about the cocktail of korma spices for my biryani evoked my lost anticipation for Eid. I didn’t feel alone in the kitchen; it was as if both my grandmother’s ghosts were at my side, telling me when to stir or add ingredients. The voices of the women from my family who prepared this same meal in the past felt present there that day, even though this tiny London loft kitchen was so far removed from my family kitchen in Karachi. There was something about the act of cooking Eid lunch that created a sense of home and a rekindling of happier memories.

I was transported to a time when Eid meant more than just the judging aunties and boring conversations. I remembered what my Nani (maternal grandmother) had always called “vintage Eid.” Each year, her elder brother, Iqbal, hosted a large Eid dinner at his beautiful home in Karachi. Uncle Iqbal had been in the foreign service and was posted in Washington, DC for many years; when he returned, he'd built a home reminiscent of American homes with mantel places and large windows—it was very unlike the homes in Pakistan, so I found it fascinating. Best of all, he brought back American sweets to give to the children on Eid: Twinkies, M&M’s, and Fruit Roll-Ups, all of which were impossible to find in Pakistan.

I also looked forward to the envelopes of Eidee money we’d receive from all the relatives, a tradition on Eid for young children. All the female family members, including my grandmothers and my mother, would sit in the vintage-style drawing room with floral wallpaper, rosewood carved furniture, and a large piano that was always left unplayed, and the men would be in the cigar room. The faint smell of spices and the charcoal from the barbeque in the back open-air kitchen would mingle with the honeyed cigar smoke. The uncles in their three-piece suits would greet each other with formal hugs and the aunties in their shiny, mismatched shalwar kameez outfits would kiss me, leaving their lipstick stains on my cheek.

I’d bear it all for the sweets, the money, and the lavish Eid lunch that Uncle Iqbal’s cook created; this was what everyone came together for after all. Lunch would be served in the airy dining room that had a slight musty old wood smell. The heavy mahogany dining table in the middle of the room was packed with so many dishes that you could barely see its surface. The beige lace curtains in the French windows always looked dusty and the silver candelabra lay on the side credenza was blackened with diskeep. I could hear a faint string quartet playing, but I never spotted speakers anywhere.

Everyone would rush to the table, crowding around the dishes like moths. There were freshly made shish kebabs and naans from the tandoor, haleem, raita, and nihari, a slow-cooked meat stew flavored with spices, along with condiments like finely slivered ginger, coriander, mint, and browned onions; a platter of mutton biryani served as the centerpiece of the table. Dessert would be served an hour later: rasmalai, seviyan, and pistachio kulfi ice cream. Luckily for me, children would get first dibs at dessert. We’d eat about four helpings and come home in the early afternoon, only to fall into a deep food coma.

As I prepared my Eid meal in London, I felt something shift. I’d spent so long focusing on the negative memories of Eid and blocking out the happier ones—family and the festive chatter that filled the walls of our homes with joy. I forgot the aunties and their remarks and instead, remembered my grandmothers, the candy, kulfi, the packs of Eidee, and all of us together at Uncle Iqbal’s home. Now, I’d brought together new friends in a new home around a meal that represented my traditions. Alice was left in awe of the flavors of Pakistani food. 

As I served my grandmother’s seviyan to my coworkers, I sent a photo of it to my mother, who was impressed at how much it looked like hers. It even tasted the same—maybe because I put in just the same amount of love and commitment in cooking as my grandmothers and mother did. I felt proud of this inescapable part of who I was—my culinary culture and my family recipes, something that I could recreate and share wherever I was. That year I reconnected with Eid and celebrated the festival’s true essence of gratitude, tradition, and making memories. 

I’m a lamb lover. It might have something to do with my being half Greek, but it more so has to do with lamb’s rich, faintly gamey flavor that I find way more nuanced and exciting than beef or pork. While I love to roast a whole lamb leg over an open fire, or sear up some lollipop chops, one of my favorite ways to enjoy lamb is ground, heavily spiced, and rolled and seared into flavor-packed meatballs. Lamb meatballs are nothing new, many cultures have an affinity for ground lamb, just look at keftedes, Moroccan meatball tagines, or Kofte. Ground lamb is a no-brainer for meatballs; it’s rich and higher in fat than most other ground meats, guaranteeing meatballs that remain tender and flavorful when cooked. 

This recipe, developed by our Birmingham-based test kitchen colleague Renu Dhar developed, features lamb meatballs flavored with fragrant spices, onion, and fresh herbs, set in a cooling swoosh of a yogurt-feta sauce. They retain a beautiful mahogany charred crust while still being spoon-tender inside, and whether served with a simple side salad or stuffed into a pita pocket, they are a great, filling meal. Sound fancy? Not really. 

Start with a Fresh Bread Panade

As noted above, ground lamb’s high fat content helps ensure rich, tender meatballs. The other primary way to ensure supremely tender meatballs is with a panade. A panade is a mixture of bread and liquid (often milk or water) that keeps meatballs (and really any ground-meat mixture) moist and tender, while also preventing them from falling apart. In his easy weeknight meatballs recipe, Serious Eats’ editorial director Daniel Gritzer talks about how meatball recipes fall into two general camps: those made with a panade of soaked fresh bread vs. dried breadcrumbs. His years of meatball-making experience have convinced him that fresh-bread panades produce the most moist and tender meatballs.

Renu’s testing for this recipe aligns with Daniel’s experience, finding that a fresh bread panade was superior to one made with dried breadcrumbs. When she made the recipe with dried breadcrumbs, the result were denser, drier meatballs.

To help the fresh bread break down more easily into a cohesive paste, you only need to briefly soak it in milk first before mixing in the remaining seasonings and meat.

Adding Maximum Flavor

We wanted meatballs with tons of flavor, so we went with a more-is-more approach here. The flavor profile for these meatballs is inspired by Greek keftedes. They’re packed with warm spices like cumin, coriander, granulated garlic, and red pepper flakes, and get a hit of fresh bright flavor from a few tablespoons of yogurt (which also helps bind the balls), fresh herbs, and freshly grated onion. 

Mixing the Meat

For tender, not tough baked goods, it's crucial not to over-work batters and doughs, and it's just as important not to get overzealous when preparing a meatball mixture. Be sure to blend the ingredients only until just combined, handling the meat as little as possible to achieve a homogenous mixture. Mixing beyond this point will push the meatballs more and more towards an extra-springy sausage texture—bouncy, but not as tender.

To do so, Renu recommends combining all the seasonings with the softened bread panade first before folding in the ground lamb. This will help distribute the aromatics and seasonings evenly throughout the meat mixture without overworking it, avoiding denser, tougher meatballs.

Cooking the Meatballs

Ever heard the expression “there’s more than one way to cook a meatball”? Probably not, but it’s true! Meatballs can be cooked myriad ways; simmered, baked, grilled, pan-fried. They’re forgiving little spheres and there’s really no wrong way to cook them, it just depends on your preferred result.

Here we wanted meatballs with a tender, juicy center encased in a crisp, deep-golden outer shell. To achieve this, a two-step cooking process is the solution: First sear, then bake the meatballs. This will work best with a cast iron or carbon steel skillet, as both will retain heat well while baking; a stainless-steel skillet will also work well.

A tangy, creamy yogurt-and-feta sauce packed with fresh mint and dill is the perfect complement for these rich meatballs. For an attractive presentation, we recommend swooshing a big dollop of the sauce across each serving plate, then topping with the meatballs, preserving their crackly crust.

Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 400°F (205°C). Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper and set aside. In a large bowl, combine bread with milk and toss to coat. Let stand, stirring occasionally, until bread is completely moist, about 5 minutes. Squeeze bread between your fingers or mash with a spoon to make sure there are no dry spots.

Add onion, egg, coriander, cumin, red pepper, garlic, 1/4 cup mint, 2 tablespoons yogurt, 1 tablespoon dill, and 2 teaspoons salt to bread mixture. Using a clean hand or spoon, stir until very well combined. Add ground lamb and, using your hand, continue mixing vigorously, squishing meat and seasonings between your fingers, until just combined and meat has taken on a slightly sticky texture; be careful not to overwork meat.

Using wet hands, roll lamb mixture into 2-ounce (60 g) meatballs (about 16 total). Place on prepared baking sheet, evenly spaced apart, and cover lightly with plastic wrap. Refrigerate meatballs until firm and cold, at least 30 minutes or up to 4 hours.

In a 12-inch cast iron, carbon-steel, or stainless-steel skillet, heat oil over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add half of meatballs in an single layer and cook, undisturbed, until browned on 1 side, 1 to 2 minutes. Using tongs, carefully turn meatballs and continue to cook, turning as needed, until browned on all sides, 3 to 4 minutes. Transfer meatballs to a large plate. Repeat with remaining meatballs. Once all meatballs are browned, transfer meatballs back to skillet, and bake until an instant-read thermometer inserted into center of meatballs registers 145°F (63°C), 5 to 7 minutes (see notes).

Meanwhile, in a food processor, process feta cheese, lemon zest and juice, remaining 3/4 cup of yogurt, remaining 1/4 cup mint, remaining 1 tablespoon dill, and remaining 1/4 teaspoon salt until mostly smooth, about 2 minutes.

Spoon sauce onto a large serving plate or individual plates. Gently set meatballs on top of sauce. Garnish with dill fronds, and serve with lemon wedges.

Special Equipment

12-inch cast iron, carbon-steel, or stainless-steel skillet, food processor

Notes

The ideal Greek-style yogurt for this recipe is one that is completely strained; many Greek yogurts in the US market are only partially strained. One good option here is Fage, which comes thoroughly strained from the start. If you have another brand that seems slightly thinner, you can place yogurt in a fine-mesh sieve set over a bowl and let stand for about 2 hours. Once the extra water has drained away, you will have a much thicker yogurt to work with.

We think 145°F is an ideal internal temperature for lamb meatballs, but if you have any health concerns such as a compromised immune system among your diners, you can cook them further to 160°F.

Make-Ahead and Storage

The yogurt and feta sauce can be made ahead and refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 4 days.

Harcha is a traditional Moroccan bread made from semolina, a type of durum wheat flour with a distinct golden color and faintly sweet and nutty taste that creates the bread’s signature flavor. The name harcha is derived from the Arabic word for "rough" or "gritty," which refers to the coarse texture of the semolina flour, but the final bread is anything but rough: Each flatbread is pillowy and buttery soft.

Similar to other breads like Johnny cakes from the Caribbean or English muffins, harcha are shaped into individually portioned flat discs and cooked on a dry griddle or skillet until golden on both sides. And although they look a bit like English muffins, they’re closer to a biscuit or cornbread with their crumbly, tender texture and rich flavor.

Recipes for harcha vary from family to family in Morocco, but this simple, rustic bread is consistently served as a popular breakfast or snack, often paired with a dollop of honey, butter, or jam, and typically alongside a glass of mint tea. Although it’s often seen as a sweet treat, I think its faintly nutty and sweet flavor pairs well with savory accompaniments like cheeses, charcuterie, or even smeared with olive tapenade. So feel free to take liberties with how you serve them.

My favorite part about harcha is how easy they are to make. Unlike other Moroccan breads, such as khobz (a round, yeasted bread) or batbout (a Moroccan bread, similar to pita), harcha is made without yeast, and doesn’t require time to proof before shaping. The dough comes together very quickly in just one bowl and can be shaped and cooked after a short 15-minute rest, making it a perfect option for busy mornings or unexpected guests. 

I recommend using semolina flour labeled “course” on the packaging—I have had the best luck using King Arthur brand when I make them at home. The dough is prepared by first whisking the dry ingredients together (flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt) then using your hands to knead in the melted butter, followed by the milk. Don’t be tempted to reach for a spatula or fork when mixing, your hands are the best tool to ensure the semolina is evenly coated with the butter and milk, and it’s the butter-coated semolina that creates the bread’s tender, crumbly interior.

The dough at this stage should be very soft, but not sticky. If it is still sticky or wet, dust a tablespoon or two more of flour over top and knead until absorbed. Letting the dough rest briefly allows it to hydrate further, so it will be easier to shape into individual discs. When shaping the discs and cooking the harcha, I have three tips:

• Cracked edges are normal: When you flatten the dough into a circle, the edges may develop small cracks; this is completely normal and won’t affect the final texture.
• Use your palms for shaping: When flattening the dough by hand, rely more on your palms than your fingers. This helps create a smooth, even surface.
• Flip at the right time: Wait until the bottom of the harcha is golden brown and firm before flipping. Flipping too early can cause the dough to break apart.

As they cook in a skillet (or on a griddle), the breads develop a beautifully crispy exterior while staying soft and melt-in-your-mouth on the inside.

Harcha are not only delicious and easy to make, they also freeze and reheat well. After cooking, simply let them cool completely before wrapping tightly in plastic wrap and storing it in an airtight container or freezer bag. When you’re ready to eat one, just reheat it in a pan on the stovetop or in the toaster oven for a quick and easy breakfast or snack.

In a large mixing bowl, whisk to fully combine semolina flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. Add melted butter and mix with your fingers until mixture has a sandy, crumbly texture.

Add milk and mix with your hands until dough comes together and forms a ball. It should be soft but not sticky. If dough is too wet, sprinkle 1 tablespoon semolina over top and knead in until absorbed. Repeat if needed until proper texture is achieved. Let it rest for 15 minutes to allow semolina to absorb the liquid.

Lightly dust a work surface with semolina and transfer dough to it. Using the palm of your hands, flatten dough into a 1/2-inch-thick circle, about 8 inches in diameter. Sprinkle dough’s surface with more semolina, then use a 3-inch round cookie cutter or glass to cut out discs. Gather dough scraps and reshape into 1/2-inch-thick round and cut out more discs; you should have 8 discs total. (Alternatively, divide the dough into eight equal portions and shape them into individual 1/2-inch-thick discs by hand.)

Heat a 12-inch cast-iron or stainless-steel skillet over medium-low heat for 3 minutes. Place 4 dough rounds in dry skillet and cook, pressing down occasionally with a spatula to prevent doming, until golden brown on first side, 5 to 7 minutes.

Flip flatbreads and continue to cook, adjusting heat as needed to prevent burning, until golden brown on second side, 3 to 5 minutes. Transfer cooked flatbreads to a parchment paper–lined baking sheet. Wipe skillet clean, then repeat with remaining 4 semolina breads. Serve immediately with your choice of spreads.

Special Equipment

12-inch cast-iron or stainless-steel skillet 

Make-Ahead and Storage

Leftover harcha can be stored in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days. To freeze, individually wrap the cooked harcha in plastic, then transfer to an airtight container or freezer bag and freeze for up to 2 months. Reheat frozen harcha in a dry skillet over medium heat, flipping occasionally until warmed through or heat in a toaster oven.

I use ramekins daily. These small, squat bowls are my go-to for mise en place, snacks, serving a few scoops of ice cream (is that weird?), and, closer to their intended purpose, for making individual custards and desserts. I’ve even used them to mold and bake individual British pork pies for a Lord of the Rings movie marathon, nerd that I am.

Made of ceramic in a medley of shapes, sizes, and designs, these little bowls are more varied than you’d think. To find the best, most versatile ones, I put 10 ramekins to the test, using them to make chocolate soufflé and eggs en cocotte, and stacking and washing them to see how they held up. 

The Winners, at a Glance 

With their classic white, ribbed sides, these sturdy ramekins are perfect for crème brûlée or other custardy desserts. Chocolate soufflé rose nicely and the eggs en cocotte were perfectly cooked. The ramekins come in other colors, too, if you want a little pizzazz. 

UK-based Denby pottery is known for its durability and quality, and its ramekins are no exception. They stacked nicely, and soufflé and baked eggs emerged perfectly cooked. After testing, I found myself using the ramekins to hold snacks, mise en place, and scoops of ice cream.

The bottoms of these ramekins are slightly inset, so they stack neatly. Since they’re thicker, foods cooked in them needed more time in the oven, but the end results were still good. They come in a variety of beautiful colors, too. 

Like the Dowan ramekins, these have a classic design that would make any dessert look like it came straight from a French bistro. Everything cooked nicely, and the ramekins weren’t slippery when gripped with tongs. Plus, they’re about $3 a pop. 

These ramekins have a larger capacity (6.8 ounces) and more of a bowl shape than others I tested. This makes them quite versatile; they’re both at home coddling eggs as well as holding a handful of grapes for snacking. 

With a tall, narrow shape, these très chic ramekins are great for serving possets, pots de crème, or other desserts that don’t require a wider opening (like crème brûlée). Soufflés came out of the oven tall and puffy, too. However, the egg en cocotte looked a little lonely at the bottom of the tall ramekin. 

The Tests

• Chocolate Soufflé Test: I made chocolate soufflés in each ramekin, noting if they emerged from the oven nicely risen. I took a scoop from each ramekin, evaluating the soufflé’s consistency. 
• Eggs en Cocotte Test: I made eggs en cocotte with mushrooms and gruyère, cooking the filled ramekins in a water bath, per the recipe. I noted if the egg, cream, and mushroom mixture filled the ramekins nicely or if the ramekins swallowed them. After cooking, I removed them from the water bath with kitchen tongs and noted the final texture and doneness. 
• Stacking Test: I attempted to stack the ramekins to see if they nested neatly and didn’t feel precarious. 
• Cleaning Test: I hand-washed the ramekins or ran applicable ones through the dishwasher. 

What We Learned

There Was a Sweet Spot When It Came to Capacity and Height 

While ramekins are essentially small bowls, there was a sweet spot in terms of size and height that made them more versatile. Sure, I did like the Crate & Barrel Small Ramekins, which have a petite 5.5-ounce stated capacity. I also quite liked the slightly bigger 6.8-ounce Staubs. But it was the middling-capacity ramekins, ones that held around six ounces, that were the most useful when it came to cooking desserts. The Denby ramekins clocked in at 5.75 ounces, which was on the smaller side, but still close enough to six ounces that soufflés rose nicely and the baked eggs didn’t swim in the bowl. The Dowan ramekins were spot on at six ounces, making them great for crème brûlée and other recipes. 

Height was almost more important, though. Taller ramekins, like those from Emile Henry, encouraged a lofty rise on soufflés. The Williams Sonoma Pantry Ramekins were too short, a mere one inch tall, with a wider opening that was less versatile and more prone to spillage. That said, they’d probably be fine for making crème brûlée, which requires a wider surface area for the sugar crust. 

Thicker Ramekins Had Runnier Results 

Enameled stoneware isn’t a great conductor of heat—a better one would be aluminum or stainless steel. What enameled stoneware is good at is heat retention—so the mac and cheese you baked in an enameled stoneware casserole dish will stay warmer for longer than one cooked in a metal pan. So, it made sense that the thicker stoneware ramekins, like those from Le Creuset and Emile Henry, had softer final cooked results: The soufflés were still quite gooey in the center, and I had to bake the eggs for a few more minutes until the whites were set. This wasn’t a huge deal, though, since it was truly mere minutes of extra time in the oven. 

A Note on Materials 

If you take a gander at the materials of the ramekins I tested, you’ll notice an array of terms: porcelain, stoneware, and ceramic. (Earthenware is another material, though none of the ramekins I tested are made of it). The use of all these terms can be confusing, so I’ll break it down: Ceramic is a catchall term for clay pottery, so a ceramic item can be made of porcelain, stoneware, or earthenware. These materials are varied: Stoneware is less porous than other clays, making it heavier and more durable. Porcelain is also made of a specific type of clay called kaolin that’s fired at high temperatures, resulting in a non-porous, glassy product; it’s chip-resistant, too. Earthenware is more porous than stoneware and porcelain, which makes it cheaper and less durable. All of my favorite ramekins are made of hardy clays; the only ones that I’m unsure about are the Emile Henry ramekins, which are listed as “ceramic” without any further specification. 

Most Ramekins Were Great

When push comes to shove, any ramekin will likely serve you well. While I have some things I prefer (like larger capacities, taller sides, and thinner walls), in the end, everything I made in the ramekins turned out just fine. I’d go by how you use ramekins when choosing a set. If you frequently use ramekins to make desserts, then classic, capacious ones from Dowan or Denby might be good. If you like to use them for snacks or to serve food like ice cream, perhaps consider a larger ramekin, like those from Staub or Emile Henry. 

The Criteria: What to Look for in a Ramekin

A good ramekin should be at least 5.5 ounces in capacity, which makes it versatile for a variety of recipes and uses. Look for ones that are at least two inches tall; any shallower and stuff spills over. Foods cooked in thicker ramekins needed more time in the oven, but only a few minutes. Bonus points were given to ramekins that stacked nicely. 

Our Favorite Ramekins 

What we liked: These classic-looking ramekins baked up lofty soufflés and perfectly set jammy eggs. They stacked nicely, too, and the ribbed sides made them easy to grip with tongs when I removed them from the water bath. These are a great option if you’re looking for chic ramekins that make everything look elegant. 

What we didn’t like: I can’t think of anything, but if that changes, you’ll be the first to know. 

Key Specs

• Height: 2.12 inches
• Opening diameter: 3.75 inches
• Weight: 7 ounces
• Stated capacity: 6 ounces
• Approximate wall thickness: 0.25 inches
• Materials: Porcelain
• Stackable: Yes
• Cleaning and care: Dishwasher-, microwave-, and oven-safe

What we liked: Denby is known for its durable, quality pottery made from Derbyshire clay. And these cerulean blue ramekins sure are stunners. They have a nice weight to them, and the tapered sides make them easy to stack. Soufflés rose nicely, and the egg en cocotte’s white was nicely set, while the yolk remained silky. These also make for great snack bowls. 

What we didn’t like: These are a smidge on the smaller side. They’re also pricey.  

Key Specs

• Height: 2 inches
• Opening diameter: 3.75 inches
• Weight: 7.7 ounces
• Stated capacity: 5.75 ounces
• Approximate wall thickness: 0.25 inches
• Materials: Stoneware
• Stackable: Yes
• Cleaning and care: Dishwasher-, oven-, freezer, and microwave-safe

What we liked: These stocky ramekins stack neatly, thanks to an inset bottom rim. They’re the heaviest ones I tested at nearly 10 ounces and are made of durable stoneware. Elegant and timeless, these are great ramekins for serving desserts or making a handful of snacks feel special. 

What we didn’t like: Since they are a little thick, the soufflé and eggs en cocotte took longer to cook, but only by a few minutes. 

Key Specs

• Height: 2.25 inches
• Opening diameter: 3.5 inches
• Weight: 9.9 ounces
• Stated capacity: 6.75 ounces
• Approximate wall thickness: 0.5 inches
• Materials: Stoneware
• Stackable: Yes
• Cleaning and care: Dishwasher-, oven-, broiler-, and microwave-safe. 

What we liked: This set of four breaks down to a little over $3 per ramekin, making them one of the more affordable sets I tested. While petite, the tall sides encouraged a good rise in the chocolate soufflé, and the egg en cocotte was perfectly cooked. The classic white porcelain with ribbed sides makes these a shoo-in for serving French desserts, like pot de crème or crème brûlée.

What we didn’t like: These were the smallest ramekins I tested, though the taller sides made up for it. Crate & Barrel does sell a larger, taller, 9.5-ounce set.

Key Specs

• Height: 2.9 inches
• Opening diameter: 3.5 inches
• Weight: 6.1 ounces 
• Stated capacity: 5.5 ounces
• Approximate wall thickness: 0.25 inches
• Materials: Porcelain
• Stackable: Yes
• Cleaning and care: Dishwasher-, oven-, broiler-, freezer-, and microwave-safe. 

What we liked: These were on the larger side with a 6.8-ounce capacity, making them versatile—they are great ice cream bowls! The chocolate soufflé was airy and tall, while the egg en cocotte looked surprisingly fulsome considering the ramekin’s bigger size. They are hefty and made of durable vitreous glass porcelain.

What we didn’t like: These look more like small bowls than ramekins and have a larger capacity that might not work with some recipes. 

Key Specs

• Height: 2.5 inches
• Opening diameter: 3.75 inches
• Weight: 8 ounces
• Stated capacity: 6.8 ounces
• Approximate wall thickness: 0.5 inches
• Materials: Vitreous glass porcelain
• Stackable: Yes
• Cleaning and care: Dishwasher-, oven-, freezer-, and microwave-safe. 

What we liked: These elegant ramekins were the tallest ones I tested, with a 2.75-inch height and petite 3.25-inch opening (a quarter-inch smaller than most of the other ramekins). This made them excellent at baking tall soufflés. They’d be nice yogurt cups, too, and a pot de crème or posset would look spiffy in them.

What we didn’t like: The tall form factor won’t work for things like crème brulée, which need more surface area for the crackling sugar top. That said, the ramekins made nice and tall soufflés. They’re also a tad thicker, so foods took longer to cook in them. 

Key Specs

• Height: 2.75 inches
• Opening diameter: 3.25 inches
• Weight: 7.5 ounces
• Stated capacity: 6.75 ounces
• Approximate wall thickness: 0.5 inches
• Materials: Ceramic
• Stackable: Yes
• Cleaning and care: Dishwasher-, oven-, broiler-, and microwave-safe. 

The Competition 

• HIC Kitchen Souffle Ramekin Set: These basic ramekins were totally fine, though I’ve had some for a few years and they do chip. They also don’t nest. 
• Casafina Modern Classic Ceramic Ramekins: These are pretty, modern ramekins. However, their rounded bowl-like shape and smooth finish made them slippery.
• Williams Sonoma Pantry Ramekins: While everything cooked up fine in these, they were quite shallow, which limited their versatility. 
• Anchor Hocking 6-Ounce Glass Custard Cups: These performed totally fine in my tests (though the chocolate soufflé was more cooked than in other ramekins). They stacked neatly, too. My only qualms were they were slippery and not the prettiest. 

FAQs

What is a standard ramekin size?

The ramekins’ capacities I tested ranged from 5.5 ounces to seven ounces. I think around six ounces is the sweet spot that’ll serve you well for both cooking and snacking. 

What material is best for a ramekin? 

As I mentioned in the review, most ramekins are ceramic. Subdivide that further, and most of the ones I tested were either porcelain or stoneware. Both are made of durable, non-porous clay. Earthenware, on the other hand, is cheaper, more porous, and likelier to break. Glass is another material, and like ceramic ramekins, it performed well in my tests. 

What can you make in a ramekin? 

Ramekins are versatile little cups that are great for making individual desserts—think possets, crème brûlée, pot de crème, flan, etc. They’re also good for other individual dishes, like eggs en cocotte, little pot pies, or even single-serving frittatas. I like to use my ramekins for snacks and ice cream, too—they hold the perfect portion. 

Why We’re the Experts 

• Grace Kelly is a senior editor at Serious Eats where she specializes in testing kitchen gadgets. 
• She’s been testing kitchen gear for nearly four years. 
• She’s worked as a prep cook, bartender, and journalist. 
• For this review, Grace tested 10 ramekins by making soufflés and eggs en cocotte. She also noted if the ramekins stacked easily and if they were durable and easy to clean. 
• She uses ramekins to hold snacks and scoops of ice cream. 
  

I have some Irish heritage on my mom's side— the "O" in my byline stands for O'Niell, her maiden name—and I have a soft spot for St. Patrick's Day and Irish culture in general. The holiday is a great excuse to have a pint of Irish stout and eat some of my favorite Irish foods, including colcannon and soda bread, and it's also a fun excuse to make some Ireland–inspired creations, such as Shamrock shakes and Guinness-chocolate cake. This year, I'll be following my usual tradition for the holiday and cooking my St. Patrick's Day feast at home—because no way in hell am I going out into the drunken hoards packing the pubs in NYC, where I live. If you're planning to stay home to celebrate as well, check out the 11 ideas for the holiday below.

Corned Beef Brisket, Potatoes, Cabbage, and Carrots

For the best corned beef, cure your brisket with a mix of curing salt and spices, which gives the dish its characteristic flavor. Cooking the beef low and slow ensures it won't dry out or get tough, and allowing it to rest overnight guarantees you'll be able to carve thin, presentable slices.

Corned Beef Hash

Crispy potatoes, onions, and shredded corn beef make for a wonderfully satisfying breakfast. Cutting up and frying the corned beef fat by itself before adding the other ingredients allows the corned beef flavor to permeate every element of the hash, making each deeply savory.

Real Irish Soda Bread

Soda bread was traditionally baked over coals in a covered skillet, producing a wonderfully crusty loaf of bread—a setup anyone can re-create in a Dutch oven. This loaf is chewy but tender, with a fluffy crumb and a subtle pretzel-like flavor.

Boxty (Irish Potato Pancakes)

These Irish potato pancakes are wonderful for breakfast, lunch, or dinner: They have crisp, lacy edges with a perfectly tender, fluffy interior. They're also super simple to whip up, and their savory potato flavor goes well with just about any topping you can dream up.

Irish Colcannon

Colcannon is a great partner for sausages and a pint of beer, but also just as good at the family dinner as a side for corned beef or baked ham; crowned with a fried egg or some smoked salmon; or even alongside a simple green salad to complete a filling meal.

Guinness-Chocolate Sheet Cake

This Guinness-chocolate sheet cake is moist and rich, with delightfully bittersweet and malty undertones. Brushing the cake with a Guinness syrup keeps it moist and amplifies the stour flavor, while malted milk powder brings savory depth to the vanilla frosting.

Guinness Beef Stew With Potatoes

This hearty stew is a staple at Irish pubs. Here, strong coffee and bittersweet chocolate reinforce Guinness stout's roasted flavors, ensuring they don't disappear during cooking.

Shamrock Shake

Don't feel like heading to McD's for a Shamrock Shake? Make your own at home with some vanilla ice cream, peppermint extract, and green food coloring.

Shepherd's Pie

Extra creamy mashed potatoes and a hearty meat sauce studded with carrots and peas make shepherd's pie a crowd favorite. Ingredients like red wine, tomato paste, and Parmesan cheese may be unconventional, but give the dish depth and complexity.

Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go (Fernet-Spiked Irish Coffee With Lemon Cream)

For those who love the minty-bitter flavor of Fernet Branca, this riff on a classic Irish coffee is sure to knock your socks off.

Creamy Irish-Style Oatmeal

A foolproof recipe for the creamiest porridge around.

Like many home cooks, I’ve spent hours shredding pounds and pounds of chicken for supposedly “quick and easy” weeknight meals. People often use their hands or a pair of forks to shred meat, but it’s a time-consuming process, especially when you want the meat finely shredded. Luckily for all of us, there’s an easy, foolproof way to shred chicken with minimal mess.

The method is simple: You place cooked boneless, skinless chicken into a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, then turn it on medium speed. (You can also use a large bowl and an electric hand mixer—more on that below.) It’s a clever tip the chef and cookbook author Marcela Valledolid showed me when I was a food stylist on the Today Show, and it’s the only way I shred chicken now, including my recipe for Buffalo chicken parathas. The power of the paddle quickly and efficiently shreds the poultry, making light work of an otherwise mildly annoying task. 

It's a useful technique that speeds up prep for dishes like enchiladas, chicken salad, chicken tinga, soups and stews, and more.

How to Shred Chicken Using a Mixer

To avoid overcrowding your bowl and straining your mixer, I recommend shredding no more than 12 ounces of boneless chicken at a time (that's about half the meat from a whole roast chicken). Just put the cooked boneless chicken in the stand mixer bowl, then start paddling on low speed. While a stand mixer can handle just about all the work, it can help to break the chicken down into large chunks, just to get things started.

As the pieces of chicken become smaller, you can increase the speed of your mixer to medium to help move it along. Avoid paddling the chicken at high speed, as that can result in pieces flying out of the bowl, and don't walk away or you may come back to a bowlful of mush.

This method works with a hand mixer, too: Just be sure to hold the bowl tightly so it doesn't go spinning out of control once the mixer is on. And, since a hand mixer has smaller beaters and no paddle attachment, you'll need to break the chicken down a bit more to begin so that the mixer can grab onto it.

You can use this method to shred other kinds of meat, too: Try it with smoked pork shoulder for speedy pulled pork sandwiches or turkey for a Thanksgiving leftovers pot pie.

An Irish favorite, colcannon combines potatoes and greens into a hearty mash. While in the US it’s become a mainstay for St. Patrick’s day celebrations, in Ireland it’s a dish deeply linked to and traditionally served on Halloween (although also enjoyed year-round). It’s the perfect partner for sausages and a pint of beer, but also just as good at the family dinner table as a side for corned beef or baked ham; crowned with a fried egg or some smoked salmon; or even alongside a simple green salad to complete a filling meal.

Colcannon emerged as a staple food in Ireland by the mid-18th century, according to Smithsonian Magazine. The name colcannon likely originated from the Gaelic phrase cal ceannann, which means "white-headed cabbage." Like many other Irish potato dishes, colcannon was created as a resourceful way to transform humble potatoes into a filling side dish using various available ingredients. In this vein, it was often made with whatever greens were on hand to supplement the potatoes—cabbage, broccoli leaves, kale, sorrel, watercress, or more. It’s a recipe that is as adaptable and frugal as it is delicious. 

In this recipe below, our Birmingham-based test kitchen colleague Jasmine Smith has created the richest, most hearty version possible. The key to making great colcannon is to start with perfectly boiled potatoes—all the better to soak up more butter and milk.

For the creamiest mash, Jasmine found that medium-starch yellow potatoes (such as Yukon Golds) worked best. Yellow potatoes have just the right amount of starch (less than starchy russets, but more than small waxy new potatoes) to ensure the perfect thick yet silky mashed texture. When cooked, the starch granules within the potato cells absorb water and swell, and some cells inevitably burst, releasing a gluey gel that helps give the mashed potatoes just the right amount of cohesiveness. Keep the potato chunks in large pieces so that they don’t become water-logged when boiled. 

While the potatoes may seem like the star of the show, colcannon’s flavor comes from the added butter, milk, and greens. We chose garlic and scallions to build an aromatic allium base before sautéing the cabbage. While we love cabbage for its neutral flavor and accessibility in this recipe, really you could substitute any preferred green, like kale or Swiss chard; just be sure to still fully wilt whatever green you choose before folding them into the potatoes.

On top of the classic alliums and cabbage, though, we sneak in another (optional) ingredient: seaweed. While seaweed isn’t traditional in colcannon, we like it for the subtle vegetal umami depth it adds to the mash. Plus, seaweed has been used in Irish cooking for centuries. In her cookbook From Forgotten Skills of Cooking, Darina Allen points out how many varieties of seaweed “have been part of the diet of coastal peoples since time immemorial.” In recent years it’s regained popularity with young Irish chefs.

While the seaweed is optional, we believe it’s what sets this version apart from so many others. Laver seaweed, sold in dried dark green sheets labeled as nori, is crisp, relatively mild, slightly saline, with roasted, smoky, nearly nutty notes. It pairs well with the hearty potatoes in this mash. To add it to the mash, we finely chop it and then steep it in the milk mixture until the seaweed is softened and the milk is infused with a briny, umami-rich flavor. 

Whether you add the seaweed or not, make sure not to forget to stud the top of the hot mash with pads of butter to melt and pool all over. It's the final step that guarantees these are potatoes you’re sure to love.

In a large pot or Dutch oven, cover potatoes with water and bring to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce heat to medium and simmer until tender, 15 to 20 minutes.

While potatoes are cooking, in a large saucepan, melt butter over medium heat. Once butter is melted, add white and light green scallion slices and garlic and cook, stirring often, until fragrant and translucent, about 1 minute. Add cabbage and cook, stirring occasionally, until cabbage is tender, 6 to 8 minutes. Stir in milk and seaweed, if using, bring to a simmer, then remove from heat.

In a colander, drain potatoes, shaking off any excess water. Set a ricer or food mill over now-empty pot and pass potatoes through. Add milk and cabbage mixture, salt, pepper, and half of sliced green scallion tops; fold until just combined. If potatoes are too thick, fold in additional hot milk as needed for desired potato texture. Season with additional salt to taste, if needed. Transfer to a serving bowl and sprinkle with remaining scallion greens. Top with pats of butter and black pepper. Serve.

Special Equipment

Large pot or Dutch oven, large saucepan, colander, ricer or food mill

Notes

Laver is the name of a type of algae sometimes used in the cuisines of Ireland and Wales; nori is made from a related algae and can be used as well. It adds a subtle vegetal savoriness in this recipe, but is not traditional and can be omitted

I never leave the grocery store without a tub of plain yogurt: It’s a key ingredient in many dips, spreads, and baking recipes, and when topped with granola and fresh fruit, makes for an easy breakfast or snack. If you’ve ever stood in front of the wall of yogurt at a grocery store, then you’ll know there are many, many options. The question is: Which plain yogurt is worth buying?

To find the cream of the yogurt crop, our editors sampled 10 different plain whole-milk yogurts you’re likely to find at your local supermarket. (If you notice 11 in the photo below, that's because we cut one of the yogurts we tasted from our rankings because it turned out to be a strained yogurt.) We placed each in unmarked bowls, then sampled them in random order without knowing which yogurt was which. After tasting our way through 10 bowls of plain yogurt, we tabulated the results and crowned an overall winner we’d be happy to enjoy with granola or incorporate into our favorite dips and desserts. We also found an admirable runner up for those who prefer a yogurt made from grass-fed milk.

The Criteria

There are different kinds of yogurt, including strained varieties such as Greek yogurt, Icelandic skyr, and Middle Eastern labneh. For this taste test, we focused on plain, unstrained, whole-milk yogurt. Plain yogurt should be creamy, thick, and smooth without being overly set with thickeners such as pectin or stabilizers. It should be pleasantly tangy, but not sour. It should have the subtle, natural sweetness of milk, but not taste sweetened.

Overall Winner

The Best Nationally Available Plain Yogurt: Dannon Plain Whole Milk Yogurt

Though this yogurt is not quite as tangy as others we tasted, our editors enjoyed its mild tartness and loved its thick, creamy texture.  “Good body,” our associate visuals director, Amanda, noted. Our senior social media editor, Kelli, thought it was “all around good,” while both our editorial director, Daniel, and associate editorial director, Megan, described it as pleasantly smooth. “Creamy, mild, tasty,” Megan wrote. “I like it!”

While some overly sour yogurts may not be great in dips and desserts, this yogurt’s mildness makes it a versatile ingredient that can be used in myriad ways, be it savory or sweet. Use it to prepare frozen yogurt, incorporate it into baked goods, marinate chicken thighs, or just eat it on its own.

Runner Up

The Best Grass-Fed Plain Yogurt: Alexandre Family Farm 100% Grass-Fed A2/A2 Organic Plain Yogurt

“Good milk flavor, has that real mammalian funk,” Daniel wrote. “This is a compliment!” Amanda had lukewarm feelings about the “earthy” flavors of the yogurt, but Megan—who adores plain yogurt and says she eats it every single day—thought it was “extremely mild and cream-forward.” Though this yogurt was slightly thinner than some of the brands we sampled, it is still creamy and has good body. Many dairy cows are fed a total mixed ratio diet, a nutritionally-balanced blend of grains and proteins, resulting in sweet, malty milk. Dairy from grass-fed cows, however, is often described as having a more complex vegetal or barnyard-like flavor. While Daniel, Megan, and I all enjoyed the flavor of this yogurt, Kelli and Amanda did not. Grass-fed dairy may be an acquired taste, but if you want a slightly funky, earthy yogurt, you may enjoy this one.

The Contenders

• 365 Organic Plain Whole Milk Yogurt
• Alexandre Family Farm 100% Grass-Fed A2/A2 Organic Plain Yogurt
• Brown Cow Plain Yogurt
• Dannon Plain Whole Milk Yogurt
• Family Farmstead Plain Whole Milk Yogurt
• Nature’s Promise Organic Whole Milk Yogurt
• Seven Stars Farm Organic Yogurt Plain
• Stonyfield Organic Whole Milk Plain
• Trader Joe's European-Style Organic Plain Whole Milk Yogurt
• Trader Joe's Organic Plain Whole Milk Yogurt
  

In Conclusion

Our editors enjoyed the majority of the plain yogurts we sampled. However, our testers had very different yogurt preferences: While some preferred mild and subtly sweet yogurts, others preferred dairy with more complexity, like those of the grass-fed kind. Most of the yogurts we sampled have just two ingredients: pasteurized milk and live cultures. Some yogurts, however, contain pectin, an ingredient that’s often used to thicken yogurt. In our tests, our editors preferred yogurts that had been naturally thickened during the fermentation process: When bacterial cultures convert the milk’s lactose sugars into lactic acids, it thickens and sours it simultaneously. Both our winners contain just pasteurized milk and live cultures, have just the right amount of tang, and are smooth and creamy. 

Our Testing Methodology

All taste tests are conducted with brands completely hidden and without discussion. Tasters taste samples in random order. For example, taster A may taste sample one first, while taster B will taste sample six first. This is to prevent palate fatigue from unfairly giving any one sample an advantage. Tasters are asked to fill out tasting sheets ranking the samples for various criteria. All data is tabulated and results are calculated with no editorial input in order to give us the most impartial representation possible.

A long career in the food service industry has acquainted me with all kinds of ways to sharpen knives. As a young culinary student, I would run my knives through a pull-through sharpener. When I began to look for an even better edge, I brought my knife to Sur La Table to take advantage of its in-house sharpening services. Once I started working in serious kitchens, older cooks side-eyed this practice. They explained that mechanical grindstones and inexperienced retail assistants can remove too much metal from your knife when sharpening, dramatically shortening its life. Serious pros use whetstones to sharpen their knives, and eventually, I only wanted to use them on my precious and expensive work tools. That said, while whetstones are effective, they're time-consuming and come with learning curves.

Recently, I read about a new trend in knife sharpening: rolling sharpeners. These, like the Horl 3 Cruise I tested, couple magnetic, angled blocks with rolling, textured cylinders. Your knife snaps onto the block to be held at just the right angle (either 15 or 20 degrees) while the cylinder rolls along the sharp edge to sharpen. After finishing one side, you flip the knife to do the other. Pretty simple, right? I tested a popular rolling knife sharpener to find out.

The Tests

• Stainless Steel Knife Test: To start, I chose one of my older knives to experiment with the Horl 3. For me, it’s the Zwilling Bob Kramer Damascus. It’s made of stainless steel and takes a long time to resharpen. I pulled it out, dusted it off, and marked the edge with a Sharpie to see how much the Horl would take off. I put it to the Edge-on-Up Professional Edge Tester to test its existing sharpness, then put in some serious work on the Horl before re-testing its sharpness.
• Odd-Size Knife Test: Next, I wanted to see if the Horl could work for an irregularly shaped knife like a meat cleaver. Again, I used the edge tester, sharpened the cleaver, and then tested its edge again.
• Carbon Steel Knife Test: Finally, I grabbed a softer carbon steel knife to see how the Horl could perform on a different material. I used the edge tester before and after to determine the results.

What We Learned

Rolling Sharpeners Leave the Training Wheels On

People have used whetstones to sharpen knives for centuries, and the design hasn’t changed much. You hold your knife at an angle and run it across a textured stone to remove some material and refine the edge to a point. Repeat on the other side, and you get a sharp edge. Electric sharpeners were invented to save time and decrease the amount of skill needed to complete this task: Rotating textured wheels or belts spin around an angled valley the user drags the blade of the knife through.

Rolling sharpeners combine elements of both methods. Instead of using an angle guide or relying on feel, the rolling sharpener has a magnetized block that snaps onto your knife to hold it edge-side-up at the proper angle. A coarse, textured cylinder rolls next to the blade and along its edge to refine it. In theory, this process reduces the amount of skill needed to maintain the proper angle while sharpening and doesn’t take off as much material as an electric or pull-through sharpener.

The Rolling Sharpener Sharpened Well—But With Limitations

After about 10 minutes of sharpening my Kramer blade (roughly 100 passes on each side of the blade), the Horl made significant progress. To start, this knife registered at 1044 on the edge tester. The manual for the tester recommends a professional regrind for any blade scoring above 1200. After using the Horl, I was able to get the sharpness down to 600, or a “moderately rolled edge.” Because the Kramer has chips along the blade, I would need to continue far beyond just getting the edge sharp to get a completely straight blade. Ordinarily, I could use a whetstone with a coarser grit to make shorter work of this process. The Horl only comes with one grit grade plus another side for honing. Whetstones come in a wide variety of grits and textures designed to pair with whatever results you are looking for. Essentially, trying to remove chips from a stainless steel knife using the Horl is akin to chopping down a tree with a serrated knife. Sure, it can do it…eventually. But you could make more progress with a better tool.

That being said, I was able to finally remove the chips with enough elbow grease and time. By the end, I had managed to get the sharpness to 239, as sharp as a double-edged razor blade and most high-end cutlery out of the box. Consider me a happy camper, as it can cost as much as $40 to get it repaired by a professional just once and the Horl can be used again and again.

Save Your Odd-Size Cutlery For A Whetstone

While you can sharpen almost any kind of knife on a whetstone, the Horl is limited by the shape and size of the rolling component. A larger cleaver is too wide to make contact with the textured surface of the sharpener without requiring you to jury-rig some kind of elevated surface on one side. Paring knives were a non-issue and carbon steel knives with typical bevels (double, 15 or 20 degrees) sharpened just fine. 

The Verdict

If you want to be a bit more serious about the long-term care of your knives but are too intimidated to delve into mastering a whetstone, the Horl (and rolling sharpeners like it) offers a clever solution. Understand that this kind of sharpener will never be able to do what a full assortment of whetstones can, but maybe that’s not what you want anyway. Quick, effective sharpening will give you a much more enjoyable user experience when slicing and cutting, and that’s what the Horl delivers.

The Pros

I enjoyed using the Horl 3 Cruise and will admit that it's easier than a whetstone. The Horl does not need to be soaked before use and makes no mess. It’s compact and portable. While it’s not quite as intuitive as a pull-through sharpener, I was still able to get my non-culinary sister to sharpen her dull knives to a satisfactory edge without a lengthy instruction period. Maintaining the correct angle is virtually foolproof with the heavy-duty magnet, which did not release the knife during sharpening at all no matter how much pressure I exerted.

The Cons

The Horl is not as versatile as a set of whetstones would be. It only has one type of grit coarseness and two angle settings, though Horl is releasing a model later this year with more options and exchangeable grinding disks. With a whetstone, the choices for angle are essentially limitless and you are free to customize your edge the way you want. That is still going to be the best possible option for knife nerds.

Key Specs

• Grinding material: Diamond
• Weight: 1 pound
• Grinding angles: 15 and 20 degrees

Why We're the Experts

• Taylor Murray has been working in food and food media for over 10 years, including at award-winning restaurants. 
• She has tested numerous items for Serious Eats, including tagines and deep-dish pizza pans.
• For this review, Taylor sharpened a variety of knives using the Horl 3 Cruise. She tested the edge before and after sharpening using a professional edge tester.
  

Pistachio cream has been my love language for at least the past year now, ever since the Dubai chocolate bar first graced my feed. To appreciate this, you do not necessarily need to be familiar with the Dubai chocolate bar, but some backstory does help. A few years ago, Sarah Hamouda, the founder of Fix Dessert Chocolatier in Dubai, created a new confection—a mixture of pistachio cream and toasted kataifi (very fine strands of pastry formed by drizzling a batter onto a cooking surface) encased in a luxurious bar of dark chocolate. It became a sensation after an ASMR-style TikTok video of the dessert went viral and inspired content creators worldwide to make their own versions. Today, you can even buy DIY kits as well as copycat Dubai chocolate bars for an exorbitant price at corner stores in New York City. 

The trend also sparked countless riffs online, leading to a surge in interest in pistachio cream, and it's well on its way to becoming the new Nutella. I've shared my favorite ways to use it (I've recently been putting it in a luscious, white hot chocolate), and our Birmingham-based team has even turned it into a tart. I've been calling my latest (and probably not last) riff Dubai chocolate triangles. They're a phyllo-wrapped pastries with a filling of pistachio cream, tahini, pistachios, and toasted kataifi, baked until golden, dipped in chocolate, and finished with a sprinkle of roasted pistachios.

For a Better Crunch, Use Dried Kataifi 

While similar to phyllo dough, kataifi is not exactly the same. Kataifi is made from a liquid batter that's drizzled and cooked into very thin strands similar to vermicelli noodles. Since the Dubai chocolate bar trend began, it has become readily available online in dried form. It's more challenging to find in stores; you'll likely need to stop at a Middle Eastern grocery store, where you are more likely to find it frozen rather than dried. The dried version is a little easier to work with, and I noticed it gets crispier than the frozen kataifi, which is a good thing in this context. Whether you're buying it dried or frozen, kataifi comes in reasonably large quantities, so use the rest to make kanafeh or toast some up in butter and sprinkle it on your salads, pasta, or eggs.

Work Quickly to Avoid Cracked Phyllo 

Phyllo is easy to find in most grocery stores, usually right next to the frozen puff pastry. It is, however, a little challenging to work with because it tends to dry out very quickly once unfolded and exposed to air. Covering it with a towel can help keep it moist, but cooks often debate whether you should use a dry or damp towel to do this.

A damp towel traps moisture better but may cause your phyllo sheets to stick together, while a dry one may not retain enough moisture to prevent them from cracking. I've tried it both ways and choose to use a damp towel—not a sopping wet towel, but one with the slightest hint of moisture. If your towel is too wet, you may well end up with stuck-together sheets. Fortunately, most boxes of phyllo have 40 sheets, so you will still have more than enough even if there are a few setbacks. 

Unless you are a phyllo expert, there will be some cracks and breakage along the way, but fret not: Little cracks and tears will hardly be noticeable in your final product, and you'll have enough sheets in the package to keep going even if some crack beyond repair. The best move is to make a pile of discards and toast them up later; toasted shards of phyllo are very tasty, and like the kataifi, they make a nice topping for plenty of other dishes.  

Get Pre-Roasted, Shelled Pistachios 

Yes, you can shell and toast your own nuts, but not only is that a lot of work, but there's also a fine line between perfectly roasted and burnt. The shelled and roasted pistachios save you time while delivering a more consistently roasted result. As a bonus, pre-toasted pistachios generally have a brighter green color, which makes your triangles more visually appealing. It's not always easy to find roasted and unsalted pistachios, so if you're using salted pistachios, omit the salt from the recipe.

Taste Your Pistachio Cream

I can't stress enough, please taste your pistachio cream before using it for this or any recipe. Many different brands are available now, and while most of them are tasty, they can vary a lot in flavor and sweetness. While I love Pistacchiosa, for example, it is saltier than most. Other brands are super sweet.

The recipe below can't account for such a wide range of pistachio products on the market, so please taste and adjust accordingly! Omit the salt if your pistachio cream tastes salty, and consider using an even more bittersweet chocolate if your pistachio cream is extremely sweet to balance it out.

For a Shinier Ganache, Add Corn Syrup

While it's optional in this recipe, pastry chefs love using corn syrup for the glossy finish it gives chocolate. It also helps keep the ganache fluid, making it easier to dip your triangles and giving you a little extra time to sprinkle on the pistachios before the chocolate sets. Its benefits are mostly aesthetic, though, so if you don't bake often and don't have corn syrup on hand, feel free to skip it—your triangles will still be beautiful.

If Your Chocolate Breaks, Just Add Cream

Tempering chocolate is an art; a few degrees can be the difference between chocolate glory and disaster. When I was developing this recipe, our senior editor and former restaurant pastry chef, Genevieve, shared a trick with me: As you're melting the chocolate, add more cream and keep stirring if it starts to seize or look grainy. There needs to be enough liquid to coat the chocolate's cocoa particles, but, as she explains in her fabulous water ganache recipe, the darker the chocolate, the more cocoa particles, and the more liquid you'll need to keep it fluid.

For the Filling: In a small skillet, melt butter over medium heat until foamy, about 2 minutes. Add kataifi pastry and cook, stirring often and breaking up clumps with a wooden spoon, until browned, about 4 to 5 minutes. Transfer to a medium bowl and let rest at room temperature until cooled, about 15 minutes

Add pistachios to kataifi bowl along with pistachio cream, tahini, and salt. Using a flexible spatula, gently fold to combine; set aside.

To Assemble and Cook: Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a 13- by 18-inch rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper; set aside. Unroll the phyllo sheets and, using a sharp knife or pizza wheel, cut dough into 6- by 11-inch strips. Cover phyllo strips with a lightly damp kitchen towel until ready to use to prevent them from drying out.

Place one phyllo strip on a clean work surface with the short side facing you. Brush entire strip with melted butter. Fold it in half lengthwise like a book, bringing the left edge to meet the right edge, to create a strip that is 3 by 11 inches. Brush again with butter. Place a heaping tablespoon of filling (about 20g) about 1 inch from the bottom of the strip towards the right side. Fold the left bottom corner of the phyllo strip over filling to tightly enclose and form a triangle. Continue folding the triangle, flipping right and then left until you reach the end of the strip. Use a sharp knife or kitchen scissors to trim any excess phyllo pastry.

Place folded triangle seam-side down on prepared baking sheet and cover loosely with another damp kitchen towel until ready to bake. Repeat with remaining phyllo strips and filling, arranging each pastry on the baking sheet about 1 inch apart.

Bake, rotating baking sheet front to back halfway through, until lightly golden and crisp, 18 to 20 minutes. Let the triangles cool completely.

For the Ganache: Place chocolate in a medium heatproof measuring cup or mug. In a small saucepan, stir together heavy cream and corn syrup, if using, and bring to a simmer over medium heat, about 4 minutes. Pour over chocolate and let stand until chocolate softens, about 1 minute, then stir until smooth. Cool chocolate mixture until warm but still pourable (100 to 105ºF; 38 to 40ºC), about 3 minutes.

Holding triangles by one corner, carefully dip half the pastry in chocolate to coat, letting any excess chocolate drip back into the cup before returning pastry to baking sheet. Sprinkle chocolate with chopped pistachios before it sets.

Repeat with remaining triangles. Refrigerate until set, about 10 minutes.

Special Equipment

Sharp knife, pizza wheel, or kitchen scissors, 9-by-13-inch rimmed baking sheet, ruler, instant-read thermometer

Notes

You can easily find dried kataifi online and frozen kataifi at many Mediterranean and Middle Eastern markets, often in the frozen pastry aisle.

Salads follow food trend cycles like nearly every other food category. Do you remember that there was a time before Americans regularly ate kale salads? Now they're everywhere. Today, if I were to make a spreadsheet of the best restaurant salads (yes, I have been known to make this sort of spreadsheet), many would have an ingredient more typically associated with fried foods and casseroles: breadcrumbs. And this is a trend I'm definitely on board with.

My all-time favorite salad is a Caesar salad, yet I can't even recall the last time I saw a crouton on a Caesar at a New York City restaurant. Where have all the croutons gone? Apparently, they've gone into the food processor and come out as delightfully crunchy breadcrumbs. In Brooklyn, where I live, this trend is just as common at Michelin-starred restaurants like Lilia as it is at wine bars like The Fly—one of my favorites—or even my local sit-down pizzeria, Speedy Romeo. And honestly, it’s genius.

How many dull salad knives have I taken to unyielding, brittle croutons that have crumbled or slipped right off my plate and onto the floor? Using breadcrumbs instead of croutons solves that problem. Plus, freshly toasted breadcrumbs add another layer of flavor and texture to every bite without distracting from the star of the salad—the lettuce and/or vegetables. Many restaurants have opted to do away with croutons entirely, so why shouldn't you do the same at home? Instead of saving your day-old bread or buying fresh bread to make homemade croutons, use the breadcrumbs you probably already have in your pantry.

The Best Breadcrumbs For Salad Are the Ones You Have

Which breadcrumbs should you use to spruce up your salad? Any kind! As long as you toast them in butter or oil. Yes, you can still opt to make the breadcrumbs yourself by putting hearty, stale bread in a food processor as Kenji does in his spring vegetable salad, but for an even quicker salad topper, use store-bought plain breadcrumbs and season them at home. These Caesar breadcrumbs and the pickle juice–scented breadcrumbs from our version of the TikTok-famous fried pickle dip, are two flavorful options. But if you've already gone out of your way to make a homemade Caesar dressing for a classic Caesar salad, don't mess with perfection—plain toasted panko breadcrumbs will do just fine. Simply combine a tablespoon of butter or oil with a quarter cup of breadcrumbs and toast in a pan over low heat until golden brown, then season with salt and pepper. 

The next time you're at the grocery store to buy all your salad components, re-up your breadcrumbs supply. This easy ingredient swap will jazz up your home salads and open a world of crunchy possibilities.

When I was growing up in Cincinnati, I ate goetta pretty often, but I had no idea how the city’s signature sausage was made. I considered goetta processed, like canned hash or lunchmeat. In my mind, it came from manufacturing facilities where pork-and-oat sludge flowed from tubes into molds and plastic wrappers, or butcher shops where old men with meaty forearms ground hearts and livers into stainless steel stockpots.

But plenty of Cincinnatians make it in their home kitchens. “If you just follow the directions on the back of the bag [of pinhead oats], it’s very simple,” says Pat Haders, a native of the city’s heavily German and goetta-loving West Side. She’s been doing it for years.

For home cooks like Pat, the recipe on bags of Dorsel’s pinhead oats, better known as steel-cut oats, is to goetta what the Toll House recipe is to chocolate chip cookies. It yields three or four hearty loaves—enough to freeze or share with friends and family. (Pat doubles it.)

She’s right: There isn’t much to goetta. It doesn’t require any special machinery or a secret family recipe. But it takes time, and that’s why you don’t make just one pan. It wouldn’t be practical, and goetta is a practical dish. At least, it started that way.

Like Pennsylvania scrapple and North Carolina livermush, goetta descends from a family of German grützwursts, or “grain sausages,” made to stretch meat scraps and offal with inexpensive starches. Goetta is called a sausage, but it’s really more of a meatloaf, made by cooking meat(s), oats, and spices into a thick porridge, which then cools into a sliceable solid.

Historically, the meat in a grützwurst—in Germany or the New World—was whatever was available. In 19th century Cincinnati, when the city earned the nickname “Porkopolis” for its meat processing plants, that was pork. Not the popular parts, either. Those were sold on their own. As in Germany, butchers used the off-cuts to make grützwurst.

Goetta, like nearly everything else, has been domesticated. Today, some butcher shops in the Cincinnati metro advertise that they only use pork shoulder, as a comfort to the squeamish. That includes Bill Finke and Sons, a butcher shop just across the river from Ohio in Fort Wright, Kentucky, that claims to have invented the sausage. Others are proud to continue an offal tradition. Glier’s, the Covington, Kentucky-based, industrial-sized operation that supplies local supermarkets, adds texture and flavor to their recipe with pork skins and hearts.

How to Make Goetta at Home

The goetta that most home cooks make today is even simpler. Cincinnati’s Porkopolis days are in the distant past, and the majority of modern recipes, including the one on the Dorsel’s bag, call for pre-ground pork (and often supplemental beef). My recipe below is closer to goetta’s roots, paying tribute to the dish’s resourceful origins. I also improve the loaf's flavor and consistency through some extra effort that’s almost entirely hands-off.

Instead of using pre-ground meat, I start with a hunk of bone-in pork shoulder. It gives the final product deeper flavor and a rich, gelatinous texture. There’s no store-bought stock here. The oats cook in the pork shoulder’s broth, bringing the dish together in a way that feels heartier and more satisfying than the shortcut versions. I won’t send you out for pork hearts, livers, or skin, but you could easily add them to the mix if you'd like. You could also substitute beef short rib or shank for half of the pork.

The seasonings are simple and relatively traditional. That includes MSG, used at both Finke’s and Glier’s. With black pepper and sage, it helps keep goetta on the meaty, savory side of the pork-and-oatmeal line. I’m calling it optional, but I highly recommend it.

For the easiest, lowest maintenance simmer possible, I cook my goetta in the slow, steady heat of the oven, taking inspiration from a popular slow-cooker method. All you have to do is stir often enough to prevent sticking or excessive browning. 

A warning: The next morning, when you turn your goetta out of the pan, it will be a shade of gray that communicates “loaf,” in the processed, industrial sense. It looks like what it is—an oatmeal-and-pork brick. Unappetizing? Don’t worry: We’ll fix it in post.

Crisped slowly in a skillet, the pork and oats caramelize to a crunchy brown finish. The porridge-like center remains soft and creamy. It eats like a breakfast-meat croquette. The basic, affordable ingredients transform into something greater than the sum of their parts through the alchemy of a hot oven and a medium-hot skillet. 

You can eat goetta like any other breakfast meat, alongside eggs and toast or on a goetta-egg-and-cheese sandwich. Or you can get more creative, layering slices on pizza, crumbling it into macaroni and cheese, and heaping it over nachos. Use it anywhere you’d use sausage, for extra flavor and crispy texture. 

“Goetta is time-consuming,” Pat Haders says, “but it’s yummy.” And if you’re investing the time, you might as well make a lot. Like the famous Dorsel’s recipe, this recipe yields three pans—enough to share with friends and family or to save in the freezer for a time when you don’t have five hours (plus an overnight rest) to invest in breakfast. Making goetta in bulk is part of the Cincinnati tradition, dating back to a time when low-and-slow cooking was the best way to turn a cauldron of leftover pork parts into something delicious.

Adjust oven rack to middle position and preheat the oven to 350℉ (175℃). In a large pot or Dutch oven, add pork, onion, celery, and bay leaves and cover with 10 cups (2.37 L) of water. Bring to a boil on the stovetop over high heat, then cover pot, transfer to oven, and cook until pork is falling off the bone, 2 1/2 to 3 hours.

Using a spider skimmer or large slotted spoon and tongs, transfer pork, onion, and celery to a large bowl. Discard bay leaves. Let meat cool slightly. Reserve cooking liquid, adding water, if necessary, to total 8 cups. (Discard or reserve any excess.) Using 2 forks, roughly shred meat, discarding any large pieces of fat or gristle. Then, using a food processor or meat grinder, grind pork, onion, and celery into small pieces.

Return meat mixture to reserved cooking liquid in pot. Stir in oats, salt, pepper, dried ground sage, and MSG, if using, and bring to a boil over high heat. Transfer to oven and cook, uncovered, stirring to prevent sticking and burning every 30 minutes for the first hour, then every 15 minutes for the second hour, until mixture becomes a thick paste and stirring takes some effort, about 2 hours total.

Line three 9- by 5-inch or 8 1/2- by 4 1/2 -inch loaf pans with parchment paper, or lightly grease them. Fill each pan with goetta mixture (about 4 cups per pan), pressing it down as firmly as possible to remove any air pockets. Use a spatula to smooth the top.

Let filled pan cool to room temperature, 1 to 2 hours, then cover with an airtight lid or plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 10 hours to allow goetta to set completely.

To pan-fry and serve, run a knife around edges of pan to loosen the meatloaf, then invert and remove goetta from loaf pan and cut into 1/2-inch thick slices. In a large skillet, add 1 tablespoon oil or another fat (try bacon fat, if you have it) and heat over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add desired number of goetta slices, lower heat to medium, press lightly with a spatula, and cook without moving, until browned and crisped on one side, 7 to 10 minutes. For the crispiest possible goetta, drizzle a little more oil on top, then flip and continue to cook until browned on the second side, 5 to 7 minutes (The goetta slices will be delicate. Handle them carefully!) Serve.

Special Equipment

Large pot or Dutch oven, food processor or meat grinder, parchment paper, three 9- by 5-inch or 8 1/2- by 4 1/2 -inch loaf pans (disposable pans are OK), large skillet

Notes

2 pounds boneless pork shoulder with 1 ham hock may be substituted for the 3 pounds bone-in pork shoulder.

Make-Ahead and Storage

Goetta can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 4 days or frozen for up to 6 months. For easier thawing, slice the goetta before freezing, separating the slices with wax paper and wrapping them tightly with plastic wrap. If frozen, thaw completely in the refrigerator before cooking.

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Why We’re the Experts

• An Uong is a writer for Serious Eats.
• An has been testing kitchen gear for Serious Eats for over two years.
• She’s a self-professed Lodge cookware nerd with an ever-growing collection of cast iron skillets.