Toast

Tofu Absorbathon

I did not, myself, take to tofu in any duck-to-water way. I was initially put off by the idea of fake versions of other foods made out of tofu, having read of "tofu turkeys" for meatless Thanksgivings, and the like.* Then there was the high moral tone which sometimes accompanied tofu consumption- it kind of put me off my feed.

Of course, I'm guilty of taking a similar annoying tone on other food-related matters; lord knows, I don't claim to be consistent . I still think "tofutti" is a dopey name for dessert, though for all I know, it may be perfectly nice...I've yet to try it.

All of these distractions kept me from realizing, for a good long time, what a wonderful vehicle tofu is for the absorption of other flavors. And though there is a jello-y wobble in the raw stuff that is disconcerting- frying, stir frying, and even parboiling gives it a supple chewiness that is very nice, especially when combined with other goodies. As is so often the case with meatless cooking matters-I owe these tofu revelations to the clever Deborah Madison. This tofu supper you see before you is a variation on one of her recipes, from her lovely book Vegetarian Suppers.

In this dish, the tofu is parboiled, rather than fried or stir-fried, which allows it to firm up without absorbing vast quantities of oil. And it absorbs the mushroom, garlic, and herb flavors like nobody's business. Of course, it's not a fat free recipe, a person has to cook mushrooms and garlic in something, after all.

This is what you need to make it:

rice noodles 6 oz.
container firm tofu, drained and cut into small cubes
5 tbsps soy sauce
2 tbsps brown or demarara sugar
lots and lots of chopped garlic-I had only elephant garlic, and used a whole clove
salt and pepper
3 tbsps chopped tarragon
2 tbsps oil
1/2 cup diced onion
mixed sliced mushrooms, fresh, and dried soaked ones-3 cups
green onions. sliced thinly-4
1/2 cup chopped cilantro (opt)

Cook the rice noodles until tender, drain and rinse with cold water to stop the cooking.(I do this in a pasta pan with the strainer, and pull out the strainer. I can then reuse the starchy water for the tofu.) Simmer the tofu cubes in the rest of the hot water, and and drain. Set both noodle and tofu aside. Mix soy, sugar, salt and pepper in a cup. Mix the garlic and tarragon in another cup. In a wok or wide nonstick skillet, heat the oil and fry uo the garlic mix. Add the mushrooms and onions. Let them sit without moving them for a minute , then stir them from time to time, allowing them to brown, and give off their juices. After about 5-10 minutes, they will have reabsorbed most of the juices. Add the tofu and soy sauce mixture, stir well, and add the noodles. Heat through and serve very hot, garnished with the scallion and cilantro.

Strangely, I like to eat the leftovers of this dish (when there are some), at room temperature.

* I certainly don't oppose food fakery across the board. In fact, I love the various mock meats and poultry you can have in vegetarian Chinese restaurants; whatever they are made of, they are really nifty.

And yet more: In further praise of Ms. Madison and of tofu, I cannot recommend too highly her Stir Fried Sesame Broccoli (and tofu) with Glass Noodles. Oi. I might have to take a picture of that, too.

Ratatouille Chinois: Summer Goodies

This is not some fusion food, really -it's a southern Chinese style eggplant recipe, best served, like its relative, at room temperature. It bears a strong component and functional resemblance to ratatouille. I like it for supper- with rice or rice noodles and some (out of place) flatbreads, toasted.

It also makes a good warm weather side dish along with meals where ratatouille might just not be the right thing, exactly. Or, it could be that you are just looking for another way to use the eggplants, red peppers and cilantro which are turning up in such abundance at the moment. I am not sure where I got this recipe. It was under another name- possibly at epicurious.com, except that I can't locate it there now, to link. I put lots of cilantro over it, which was not in the original. Parsley or chopped chives would be fine for the anti-cilantro contingent. It does need the little spike of a fresh herb, I think, and anyway-it looks nicer.

It's pretty rare to find a chinese-style dish which can be made ahead, so it is a nice thing to make to accompany a stir fry-for-company, which is all last minute smoke and rushing. Or, if you are lazy like me, and just want to visit with your company, and put stuff on the table, you can serve it with lamb red cooked with water chestnuts and dried bean curd sticks, as I did, and some rice-no trouble.

Whoa-found it after all, here it is. I use a bit more sesame oil than they say, and sprinkle some over the top. I like a bit of the purple skin left on, but find that all the skin makes it tough to get the right texture- so I partially peel my eggplant, before cubing it. I also take the finished product out of the fridge early, and bring it to room temperature-it's better that way than chilly-cold, for sure.

The newsletter from my CSA farmer says that now's the time to order extra tomatoes- so I've got my canning order in. He also says the winter squashes are coming along very well, this year. I love those guys. Lots of plums around, I've been putting up some more tkemali, making plum jam, and more plum jam and doing big jars of beet eggs with little beets the same size as the smallish eggs. Even in the midst of wallowing in the gorgeous tomatoes and corn, I'm ready for fall. My favorite season. Bring it on.

Okra, a short defense of

Dress it up a little, and you can take it anywhere. If you are convinced that you do not like okra, I would suggest that this may be because you have not tried one of the many superb Indian dishes including this vegetable. I can honestly say that I have never had an Indian okra dish I did not like. There are not too many foods I reject totally, but there was a time when I was convinced that I despised okra.

A current favorite of mine is from Suvir Saran's wonderful Indian Home Cooking, which is full of similar treasures. It couldn't be easier or quicker to fix. I make it in my thin cast iron wok which strongly resembles the kadai, or two handled rounded Indian pot appearing in photos in the book.

This is what you do: In your spice (or coffee)grinder , pulverize 4 tsps fennel seed and 2 tbsps of coriander seed.

Wash and trim one pound of okra, and slit each one horizontally, without slicing completely through it. Put the okra in a bowl and add the ground spices, salt and a pinch of cayenne pepper. Mix the okra in the spices. The idea is to get some inside, in the slits.

Heat 1/3 cup canola or other tasteless oil in the wok, or a heavy pan. Turn the heat quite low, add the okra, and stir to coat with oil. Then arrange it in a single layer, and cover. Every three or four minutes, take off the lid and gently stir and rearrange. After about 15 minutes, it should be tender, and the wok should be dry. Uncover and cook about five minutes more, browning the okra.

That's all there is to it! These are so good that you might find yourself trying another Indian okra dish, or even moving on to some crisp fried southern-style pods, with molten centers. Or you may grow to crave a bowl of gumbo, with okra circles, crabmeat, boudin and a spicy roux, in a dark pool around a scoop of rice. Don't miss it.

Cantonese-American Tomato with Beef and Oyster Sauce

It's impressive to watch accomplished chinese restaurant chefs and home cooks make stir fries. They prepare all of the components of a dish, and then there is a high speed last minute blur of sizzling, tossing and serving. While I do not have the technique for the high speed end game, I do like assembling the ingredients for a simple recipe without rushing. Once I have everything ready, I can usually get it together to cook it up without too much klutzy delay. While the mysterious "wok hay" will probably forever elude me, I can attest that the faster the stir fry hits your plate, the better it tastes. Hence, I make sure that the rice is done before I fire up the wok. And so, much though I enjoy taking pictures of my food, I won't be stopping to capture my stir fry on camera before dinner.

This dish is one of the few where an out-of-season supermarket tomato appears to advantage, You do not want to use canned tomatos here, the texture is all wrong. But you don't need local seasonal heirloom tomatos either. I use roma types from the Giant Eagle, and peel them with my serrated peeler. If you don't have one of these little gems, you should probably drop your tomatos in boiling water for a minute, rinse them in cold water, and slide the skins off that way. Tomato with Beef and Oyster Sauce is one of those synergystic simple meals, which tastes somehow more than the sum of its parts.

1/2 lb lean beef, cut in little thin strips
pinch baking soda
1 tbsp soysauce
1 tbsp cornstarch
1 tsp rice vinegar
drop sesame oil
1 tsp and 2 tbsps canola oil
2 tsp sugar
5-6 small tomatos, peeled and sliced into 1/2" strips
1 tbsp chopped fresh ginger
2 tbsp oyster sauce
chopped chives
cold water

Put the cut up beef in a bowl (I'm sure you already know that it is easier to slice meat thinly if it is a little frozen). Mix together with the baking soda, cornstarch, rice vinegar, sesame oil, soysauce, 1tsp canola oil and 1 tsp sugar. Set this near the stove, and arrange all the other components nearby, along with a little cup of water,an empty plate and your wok lid.

Fire up the wok, and when it is hot, add 1 tbsp canola oil, and swirl the wok around a bit. Add the meat and ginger and fry it until it is almost done. Remove the meat with a slotted spoon, and keep on the plate nearby. Add second tbsp. oil, then the tomatos and the rest of the sugar, and stir fry them for a couple of minutes. Glunk in the oyster sauce, and put the meat back in. Stir it all up, add a little water, turn the heat down to medium low, and cover. Cook covered for a couple of minutes. Take the lid off, add the chives, stir it up for a minute or two, scoop into bowls, and serve with your already prepared steamed rice.

This recipe is not original to me, but I can't give credit where due, as I believe it was probably taken from a library book (specifics forgotten) a long time ago. It's too bad I've forgotten, since more ideas from the same source would probably be very welcome. I thought it was from The Key to Chinese Cooking, by Irene Kuo, a brilliant lady who has been called the "Julia Child of chinese cooking." But I have looked, and it doesn't seem to be there. I understand that a new edition of this hard to find masterpiece of a book is either out, or in the offing. I can't recommend it too highly for its precise explanations of unfamiliar techniques. If you read cookbooks for pleasure, you will love it.

I had this idea that a vegetarian version using portobellos in strips would be tasty, until I remembered the oyster sauce, a critical component. This does contain something called "oyster essence", which I would have to presume has some origin in an actual oyster. As certain family members have reminded me, "a fish is not a vegetable." But I still think it would be good (though not vegetarian) with the portobellos.

Iron, Aged

I'm torn. I love rummaging through all kinds of kitchen equipment in just about any setting: restaurant supply stores, flea markets, antique stores, ethnic markets and up market foodie shops-all of which fill me with the lust to acquire. On the other hand, my kitchen is not so big, I need some room to keep the food, and I am, as they say, not made of money. I am also drawn to the ideal of the pared down sort of kitchen, where all tools work properly and most serve multiple purposes. So I try to be selective, up to a point.

There is nothing so satisfying as a tool that works really well, and when it is broken in, sturdy and familiar, so much the better. I am particularly fond of my old cast iron Lodge frying pan, nominally a "chicken fryer" , 12" across. I bought it new in the seventies, and seasoned it myself. It is black and slick and virtually nonstick, and has seen alot of fancier pans come and go. There is nothing like it for searing, browning, making pancakes, grilling cheese sandwiches, or frying chicken (which I don't do often, I must say).

Because I like to attempt some Chinese, Southeast Asian and Indian things from time to time, I have aspired to a trusty, seasoned wok of the same ilk as my fryer. I've tried to break one in on more than one occasion, aiming for that well-worn slickness. I've been stymied though, by the steel surfaces. The steel woks I've tried have gone weirdly sticky on me, and after a few months, just seemed kind of insanitary and smelly.

I knew a wok has to be thin, so that it can heat up fast and super-hot. I also knew I needed a flat bottomed one, because on my stove, a wok ring sets the bottom too high. Without a ring, a round bottomed wok wiggles wildly; my reflexes are not good enough to deal with that kind of action. I had seen a Chinese restaurant chef using what looked like a beautiful, very thin, hammered iron wok, but it was round bottomed and also immense, and not for the likes of me. Hand hammered iron woks are the loveliest of all, and are available in smaller sizes, but did not seem to exist with flat bottoms.

I discovered my thin, iron, flat bottomed Chinese wok in SF's Chinatown last year at the Wok Shop. It is practically ideal, and cost only $15. You can see what it looked like, when new, in the picture above, which I pilfered from the shop's website. I've been trying to take a picture of my own semi-seasoned pet pot, but it's not looking like it's sweet self- guess it just isn't photogenic.

It doesn't have the primal appeal of the plain hammered ones, but the only functional flaw is the dopey plastic covering on the handles. I can't imagine that bare metal could burn your hands any more effectively than these do. Otherwise: the wok is very thin and light, but sturdy. It has a plain iron cooking surface and a thin, black enamel exterior, similar to what you find on old fashioned enameled double-boilers and decorated picnicware, rather than the fancy, heavy kind of enamel on Le Creuset- type casseroles. This exterior can be washed with soap, unlike the interior, which must be seasoned, and cleaned only with water.

Because I dithered over carrying a bulky package on the airplane back, and was already walking around with a newly purchased cast iron teapot (small in size, yet surprisingly burdensome), I wound up ordering the wok from the website after I got home. This shop has sold woks in Chinatown for 30 years, is very welcoming, and sent along helpful information on wok seasoning. They also sent a nice brass wire strainer ladle thing and a bamboo whisk "to help make up for the cost of shipping." The wok came in a plastic bag which was labeled "Iron Cauldron" (eye of newt ?)

I seasoned my wok using a combination of recommended techniques from the Wok Shop and from Grace Young's The Breath of a Wok. This book is enticing on the subject of "wok hay"- that hard to pinpoint something extra which comes steaming from the stir fries of the best wok handlers. I'm not sure I know what it is, but I'm sure I want some. Her approach to her family and culture and food
is so respectful that it is not always easy to tell what her own viewpoint may be on any given topic. This is actually part of the charm of the thing, but it did leave me a little confused on the practicalities. Many of her alternate seasoning suggestions for cast iron invoved the use of Chinese chives. I decided to use some, even though I am still not sure of their purpose. In fact, I walked over to the Chinese grocery in the Strip District during my lunch hour to get them.

This is what I did: First I washed the wok very thoroughly with soap and water, scrubbing it with a copperwire scrubber, and rinsed it over and over again. I dried it thoroughly and rubbed the surface all over with half a bunch of chinese chives. I then wiped it clean with some paper towels, heated it till smoking, removed it from the heat, and rubbed it all over with a paper towel dipped in vegetable oil. Back on the flame until smoking again, dried it again with a paper towel, etc. I repeated the addition of oil, reheating, and wiping a bunch of times over, after disabling the smoke alarm. Then I stir fried the rest of the chives (chopped), wiped out the wok, and hung it up. It's been coming along nicely since then. I carefully wash it with plain hot water and a gentle vegetable brush, and dry it right way. Still longing for one of those plain, hand hammered iron ones, but feel disloyal to my serviceable little wok when I do. All the best woks are cheap, which is very nice.

Thailuski

Two things we find alot of in Pittsburgh are Southeast Asian and Eastern European homestyle cooking. I'm pretty attached to the most commonly available noodle-based comfort foods of both- Haluski, and Pad Thai. Some time ago, rummaging in a depleted pantry, and thinking about dinner, I found some rice noodles, a savoy cabbage, garlic, dry roasted peanuts, fish sauce, limes (I love them, so there's nearly always a lime), a few onions, and a little wilted cilantro. No butter, so no haluski; no scallions, eggs, sprouts, tofu or shrimps, so no pad thai. This was the origin of my Old Mother Hubbard/Yunzer-style fusion mainstay.

Haluski is a simple dish of noodles and cabbage and onions, fried up in lots of butter. It can be made with many different thicknesses of noodles- the rule is, you slice the cabbage to match the thickness of the noodles. Both are preboiled, and then they are fried up together with the onion and lots of butter, and salt and plenty of pepper. A few poppyseeds sprinkled on top are not amiss, or some paprika. Pad Thai is more complicated, but well worth the trouble.
Thailuski is even easier than its Polish counterpart, because you don't need to precook the cabbage. No amounts are given- just adjust quantites of ingredients to suit number of diners, and personal tastes:

Rice Noodles, of desired width, soaked and briefly cooked
per package directions
Savoy or Napa or regular cabbage, sliced in same width as noodles,
approx same volume, too
Peanut or other oil of choice-of late I like grapeseed oil for mild taste
chopped garlic
thinly sliced onion
chopped fresh ginger(optional-mine is never there when I want it)
fish sauce or soy sauce
red pepper flakes
chopped fresh cilantro
juice of one lime
dry roasted peanuts, coarsely chopped

Heat wok or heavy frying pan. Add oil, garlic, and red pepper flakes (and chopped fresh ginger if you have it.) Add onions, stir fry till onion is transparent. Add cabbage and stir fry till limp. Add noodles and a bit more oil, Stir fry until noodles start to get browned a bit, splash in sauce, salt and plenty of freshly ground pepper. Dump into bowl or bowls and top with chopped cilantro. Squeeze on plenty of lime juice. Add peanuts over all. If you are so deprived as to have no lime- rice vinegar would work.

Of course, one of the primary virtues of this dish is that you don't have to go shopping to make it, so substitutions or fairly austere additions in character could be fine.

Did I mention that I love my wok? I will tell you all about why my $15 cheapo wok is one of my favorite cooking pots ever, and how it is special, very soon. The thing is, it is quite difficult for the novice to take a flattering picture of a wok. I want it to look its best, because I am very fond of it. So far, it looks pretty grim. On reflection, perhaps I should avoid a close up.