slow

You can't hurry tofu.

I’m a vegetarian. Except for one experiment earlier this year, I’ve been vegetarian for 15 years. I like it—it makes me pay attention to what I eat, and I think I eat better because of that. I think it makes me a more mindful eater. Now if you’re not a vegetarian I know what you’re thinking: who can possibly survive on brown rice and tofu?

I’ll tell you a secret: nobody.

That’s why we eat vegetables and often eggs and dairy and ketchup and sometimes wheat gluten and who knows what-all else. That’s why we buy cookbooks and ask restaurants to publish recipe collections and have websites and internet chat rooms devoted to vegetarianness. All this mindfulness takes work.

But back to the tofu. I realise that it is possibly the most maligned food substance in the western world, but let’s face it, it has its uses. It’s high in protein (and sometimes fat) and it comes in varieties from super-mushy to super-firm, for use in milkshakes and stir-fries, respectively. In its natural state, it is much like okra—only appreciated by true connoseurs. But prepared, as tofu-dogs or tofu-sausages or tofu-burgers or marinated and baked or stir-fried, it’s pretty good stuff. Until I got used to the firm kind, I occasionally wondered if the restaurant had slipped chicken in there when I wasn’t looking…but no, it really was tofu.

Here’s the deal with tofu: it has to cook slowly, especially if you want it to be chewy. If you want to throw it in a blender with your favourite soup or smoothie, go right ahead. But if you want it to feel like food in your mouth, go easy. Put the heat on medium or low. Give yourself time—twenty minutes or more. Give yourself room to breathe. Don’t make it for the boss and her husband when they come to dinner, just don’t. Make it for friends, the same ones you’d eat peanut butter and jelly with. And give it time. One of my favourite tofu sausages requires low-medium heat and about 20 minutes (and lots of rotating) to cook properly. When I fry tofu it’s about the same. You can’t just sear it and call it good like you can with steak. No matter what you might like to pretend, it’s not just a pallid, floppy version of a filet mignon. And it can’t be rushed. If you hurry you will end up with something that’s mushy and vaguely flavoured like something you tasted once on a bad day with a cold. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. The tofu people don’t want that either. Marinate it. Let it absorb the flavour. Then coax it gently into a robust texture, one you can sink your teeth into. Give it time. Be careful and graceful and treat it like the delicate stuff it is. Well-treated, it can do anything.

It’s a lot like love that way.