Nom-Able

If you could define my relationship with vegan foods and vegan cooking, it would come down to this–I hate tofu. On several occassions, I’ve tried eating the stuff–as steaks cooked in sweet and sour sauce, as cubes in an Amy’s teriyaki bowl, as filling in a vegan lasagna–and the result is always the same: nausea. I’ve known people who swear by the stuff, whose unwaivering love of this pale brick soy bean curd has lead them to name their cat “Tofu”, but tofu has never been right with me.

It’s the texture, the spongey icky evil of a smelly, slick white block of chewy nothing, that makes me so offended. Not that tofu should feel bad. I also refuse, unequivically, to eat okra because of the way raw okra turns to unswallowable slime in your mouth once you’ve chewed it. I also won’t eat certain fish because the texture is too tofu-like. So it needn’t feel particularly unloved.

That was, until Friday night.

Isa Chandra Moskowitz, however, is a consummate cook, and her recipe for “Brooklyn Pad Thai” from Vegan with a Vengeance : Over 150 Delicious, Cheap, Animal-Free Recipes That Rock does, in fact, rock. It rocks hard core. It made both David and myself, in fact, like tofu. And when I say like, I mean when I went to put the leftovers in the fridge, there wasn’t a piece of fried tofu left to be seen.

The secret, for us, is pressing and frying. Yes, tofu takes on the flavor of whatever you cook it in, but flavor isn’t enough for texture junkies like us who buy high-thread-count bedsheets when we’re broke and are particular about the fibers our clothes are made from because tactile sensation is the most important thing in the world. Sure, I wouldn’t eat a slice of ham no matter how awesome the texture was, but I will turn up my nose at the best flavor cake — and I’m a sugar junkie — if it’s too dry and the crumb isn’t exactly so.

The last time I complained about tofu–after a failed attempt at a vegan lasagna that tasted of tomato sauce and nothing due to the ‘fu cheeses that did not, in fact, melt as promised–a friend said that the secret was pressing. You press the tofu, press again, and then when you think you’ve drained its little guts out, you press some more. Taking this to heart, David wrapped the tofu in a towel when he got home from work, and stacked three hardback cookbooks on top. An hour later, I got home from work, we sat around for a bit while I fought with Amazon.com over some Christmas gifts that still haven’t arrived, and then we went grocery shopping. We returned, unpacked the groceries, and only after I’d made the pad thai sauce did I un press and unwrap the tofu.

The plate was damp with moisture our absorbent kitchen towel could not soak up.

But extreme pressing alone was not the only trick. Thinly slicing the tofu and frying it until it had a brown crust on both sides created the best tofu I’ve ever eaten. Nom-able tofu is no longer the stuff of urban legand.

The recipe calls for rice noodles; however rice noodles are quite pricey at our local grocery store, and much like the tamarind paste I know I had once upon a time, our former housemates (my parents) seem to have helped themselves to quite a few of our ingredients we boxed up. One thing they didn’t touch, however, was the ten packets of TopRamen I brought home when I moved back in after college.

Ah ramen, is there anything you can’t do?

Other substitutions because of this situation followed. Our peanut oil disappeared; we used a half-bottle of seasame instead. No tamarind paste? Well, Isa says we can use lime instead! Bean sprouts? I hate those, so those were out. And if there’s no peanut oil, it’s silly to put peanuts in, right?

So, I guess really mine was more of a Jersey Girl Pad Thai.

Then came the lemongrass. Because we’re trying to eat on a budget, we’d planned for this meal (based on what we had in our food box according to our packing list — not according to what was in their after my mother “helped” repack) and bought a bundle of two piece of lemongrass. I didn’t think much of it–the recipe will have directions on what to do with this, right?

“1 tablespoon of lemongrass, minced”

What the hell? What do I mince? I mean, this is like grass, right? What’s the edible bit?

I stood there, staring at this long, stiff plant, contemplating its existence, when I finally thought to just look it up on Wikipedia:

Lemon grass is native to India. It is widely used as a herb in Asian cuisine. It has a citrus flavour and can be dried and powdered, or used fresh.

Lemon grass is commonly used in teas, soups, and curries. It is also suitable for poultry, fish, and seafood. It is often used as a tea in African and Latino-American countries (e.g., Togo, Mexico, DR Congo).

Well, that was helpful. Thanks so much.

In the end, I started from the bottom and began mincing like an idiot. A few minute later, we had a tablespoon of the stuff, with much more to spare. I wonder how long lemongrass keeps?

Brooklyn Pad Thai

Ingredients

FOR THE SAUCE

• 6 tbsp tamari
• 6 tbsp sugar
• 2 tbsp tomato paste
• 2 tbsp Asian hot chile sauce or hot sauce (we used tobasco. It’s what we had)
• 1/4 c. rice wine vinegar
• 3 tbsp tamarind concentrate or lime juice (we used lime juice – fresh)

FOR THE PAD THAI

• 6 tbsp peanut oil (we used sesame – making it kind of pan-asian pad thai)
• 1 lb tofu, drained and pressed and cut into small triangles
• 1 medium size red onion, cut in half and thinly sliced
• 2 cloves garlic, minced
• 1 tbsp finely minced lemongrass
• 2 cups bean sprouts (I hate these and did not use them)
• 8 scallions (green onion) sliced into 1 1/2″ lengths
• 2 small dried red chiles, crumbled
• 1/2 c. chopped roasted peanuts
• 1/4 c. chopped fresh cilantro
• Lime wedges for serving

Instructions

1. Prepare rice noodles according to package directions.
2. Mix together the ingredients for the sauce.
3. Preheat a large nonstick skillet or wok over moderate-high heat. Pour 2 tablespoons of the peanut oil into the pan and heat, then quickly add the tofu. Stir-fy for 4-5 minutes, until the tofu is crisp on the outside. Remove from pan and set aside. (This step took me 5 minutes per side, though I was using a seasoned cast-iron skillet instead of non-stick and different oil.)
4. Pour two tablespoons more of the peanut oil into the pan. Add half of the red onion and stir-fry for 30 seconds. Add half the garlic and half the lemongrass, and stir-fry for 30 seconds more. Add half of the sauce and, when it starts to bubble (should bubble within a few seconds), add half the noodles. Cook for 2 minutes, stirring constantly, then add half the tofu, bean sprouts, scallions, chiles, and peanuts. Stir for 30 more seconds. Transfer to two serving plates and garnish with cilantro and lime wedges. Repeat with remaining ingredients.