Tofu isn’t in my everyday diet.  It’s not even in my every week diet.  Basically, it only shows up in my diet if I head to the Chinese restaurant down the road (you know, the one with the lucky cat statue and the buffet), and get some hot-and-sour soup.  Like most non-Asian-Americans, that’s more or less the extent of my knowledge of using tofu.  In fact, I used to be weirded out by the stuff.  I mean, it has little to no taste, and is made from pressed soybeans.  It’s not natural!

As time went on, I learned more about the stuff.  Sure, it has no flavor of its own, but that means it’s perfect for adding protein to dishes without adding meat.  It’s perfect in soups, since it will drink up the flavor of the soup.  But that’s only the beginning of what tofu can do.  Softer tofu can stand in for pudding or smoothies, and firm tofu can even be pan-fried.  Oh, and did I mention it’s cheap?  I found an Asian market relatively nearby selling tofu by the pound for about a buck and a half.  Try finding meat on sale that cheap!

So, now that I’ve got the tofu, what do I do with it?  Well, the two recipes in this chapter showcase the two general styles of tofu – firm and soft.  I started with the firm tofu, as it was fairly straightforward to make.  As I said before, tofu is a culinary sponge, and will soak up whatever flavors you give it.  But firm tofu still has quite a bit of water, so we need to wring that sponge out before we let it take liquid back into itself.  I cut it into four equal pieces, wrapped it in paper towels, and pressed it for two hours between two sheet pans weighted with a 28-oz. can of tomatoes, changing the towels once.  After the tofu is pressed, it gets placed into a zip-top bag with some vinegar, Worcestershire sauce, and some hot pepper sauce to marinate for two hours.  At that point, the tofu gets dredged in breading and pan-fried in canola oil for a few minutes a side, just long enough to brown the panko breadcrumbs.  After cooling briefly, they’re served.  Having tasted them, I think they either needed more time in the marinade or more marinade, as most of the flavor was lost.  Still, I think I see what Alton was going for in this recipe.  The acidity of the vinegar, the fishiness of the Worcestershire sauce, and the crunchiness of the fry is supposed to make you think of a fish fry.  The heat wasn’t noticable, but I suspect that was his Southern expressing itself.  I need to make this one again in the future, just to see if I can get the flavors stronger.

The second one is called Moo-Less Chocolate Pie, and is nothing short of devious.  A package of semisweet chocolate chips are melted in a metal bowl along with some coffee liqueur and vanilla extract.  This is added to a food processor, along with a pound of soft tofu and some honey, and pulsed until smooth and pudding-like.  That’s all added to a chocolate wafer crust and refrigerated.  It’s incredibly simple to make, and unlike my poaching trials, I didn’t have any issues making this one.  The recipe, though, says that Alton has served this pie to unsuspecting diners, and nobody has ever suspected the secret ingredient.  I had to replicate this experiment, so I made a pie and took it to work the next day.  I informed them that there was a secret ingredient, but made them guess what it was.  True enough, nobody got it.  One person came close, guessing that I used avocado to make the pudding (she’d recently been working with making mousse with avocado), but nobody actually suspected tofu.  Experiment successful!  I’ll definitely be making this one again.

Next: I work with the only vegetable that can be spelled using musical notes.

Recipes:

Filet o’Fu

Moo-Less Chocolate Pie