Tofu has had a bit of a rough ride ever since it came to a position of widespread consciousness outside of Asia. I'm not referring to that time in the 18th-century where Benjamin Franklin literally mailed soybeans back to America thinking it was "Chinese cheese"; rather more the mid-century rise in vegetarianism and East-Asian cultural dispersion. Somehow, it turns out that Franklin's excitement wasn't infectious, though perhaps his soybeans were after the transatlantic voyage.
On the surface, tofu is a hard sell. The idea of coagulated soy curds don't exactly catalyse the saliva glands. It's reputation it has garnered ever since it's introduction to the Western world barely evokes a substance that you'd eagerly welcome into your diet. May I posit that perhaps this can be partially explained by the fact that it was always associated with Ashram-dwelling, wind chime-bedecked white folk, rather than two millennia of East Asian cooking.
The accepted consensus among contemporary tofu historians traces the first record of it back to Anhui province in Eastern China, carved into a stone slab demonstrating the ancient usages of soy beans. There is a legend about a Han dynasty prince, Liu An, which tells of him inventing soy milk to give his ailing mother the taste of soy beans in liquid form. Although there is no concrete historical evidence to support this story, the invention of tofu has been attributed repeatedly to Liu An, notably in the 10th-century "Song of Bean Curd" (which, I am sure, is an absolute banger).
Alternatively, some historians think that Liu An was taught by a group of vegetarian monks he lived with, rather than being inspired by the plight of his sick mother. There is also the possibility that the technique was taken from methods of cheese making, imported from Mongolia. The great thing about not knowing for sure is that we can just pick whichever story we like the most; I have a history degree, I give you the permission to do so. I'm inclined to buy into the catchily-named "Accidental Coagulation" theory which argues that tofu was created inadvertently through an innocent salting of soybean soup. Tofu would then join an honourable coterie of unintentionally created, yet delicious food products; nachos and chocolate chip cookies, I'm referring to you here.
I stumbled into the dish below with a similar lack of intention, although no coagulation was to take place. My plan had initially been to make a dry tom yum-style pan-fried tofu for which I had been sporadically researching and planning (covertly Googling while I was at work) over the past couple of days. While I was looking for ingredients, I couldn't find what I needed and so I thought to myself "it wouldn't be so bad just to use a paste" so I picked one up. Upon getting it home, I found that it was not vegan; in fact, it was not vegetarian (my fault there entirely). Shrimp paste doesn't quite fit the veganuary brief. Besides, panicking and making reluctant concessions was probably a sign that I wasn't yet ready to make the tom-yum into something I could post here.
So, I kept the idea of tofu and reworked it with things around the flat. From Thailand, I moved north to China (no surprises there, I'm sure) and swapped out bright pungency for darker and more savoury flavours, keeping in the vegetables and the aromatics I planned to use for the previous dish; Pan-Fried Tofu with Braised Shiitake and Choi Sum is the result. Oh, did I forget to mention having a small meltdown in between the defeat and the creation? Yes, we don't need to go into that!
I am conscious about listing ingredients here that may not be commonly found in all supermarkets. However, for anything that isn't widely found then I will provide substitutions in my adjustments section. I always feel a bit conflicted, but I feel it is worth stating the original ingredients I used in case you do want to go and find them. I'm not going to enforce the pretense that tweaking a recipe will dramatically alter it; although I can't promise it will taste exactly the same, any substitution I specify is because I believe that it's addition will still bring something positive to the recipe.
I hope this can adequately demonstrate to you the exciting potential of tofu! Yes, I know how lame that sounded. Also, if this recipe (or anything else for that matter) inspires you to cook with tofu more, it is worth knowing about the different kinds. This article on Kitchn (click here!) will fill in the blanks for you.
Pan-Fried Tofu with Braised Shiitake and Choi Sum
Preparation time: 40 minutes (including tofu pressing)
Cooking time: 20 minutes
Serves 2-3
Ingredients
300g block of firm tofu
2 spring onions
4 cloves of garlic
2 green finger chilies
1 stalk of celery
1 inch piece of ginger
2 1/2 tbsps of black rice vinegar (otherwise known as Zhenjiang or Chinkiang vinegar)
2 1/2 tbsps of shaoxing cooking wine
2 tbsps of light soy sauce
2 tsp of sesame oil
1 tbsp of cornflour
125g of shiitake mushrooms
200g of choi sum
3 Sichuan (Szechwan) peppercorns
1 tsp of sugar
1/2 tsp of Chinese five spice
1/2 tsp of MSG (optional)
Firstly, you'll need to press your tofu in order to extract the excess liquid from it. This will ensure that it hols it's shape better when you come to cook with it. To do this, put a 2 layers of kitchen towel down on a cooking surface and place the block of tofu on top of them. Add another 2 layers of kitchen towel on top of the tofu, as well as a small cutting board. Now, find something to weigh the tofu down. I used a moderately-sized cookbook, so something of similar weight and not too heavy (no anvils or grand pianos preferably) in order to not crush it.
Leave the tofu to be pressed for 30 minutes. Throughout this time, you will notice the kitchen towel becoming increasingly saturated as the moisture leaves the tofu, while the block continues to retain its shape.
While the tofu is being pressed, prepare your vegetables. Crush each garlic clove and finely mince it. The celery stalk should be sliced into thin strips along its length and finely chopped. Thinly slice the chilies into circular cross sections and slice the ginger into slices before mincing. Lastly, slice the spring onions thinly across their length.
Slice the shiitake mushrooms into thin strips. These mushrooms are usually highly irregular, so no need to hold to hold our slices to unnecessary standards of homogeneity!
Separate the leaves and the stalk of the choi sum. Roughly tear the leaves and cut the stalk into long, thin strips.
Once the tofu has been pressed for 30 minutes, remove the weight from it. Slice the block into 1-inch cuboids, and then divide each one into four strips. Make sure none of the strips are too thin in order for them to retain their shape throughout the cooking process. Add the tofu strips into a small bowl.
In a separate bowl, mix together 1 1/2 tbsps of black rice vinegar, 1 tbsp of Shaoxing cooking wine, 1 tbsp of soy sauce and 1 tsp of sugar. In yet another bowl (sorry - it's worth it!) whisk together 1 tbsp of cornstarch and 1 tbsp of the soy/vinegar/wine mixture until smooth. Gradually add the rest of the mixture until all is combined, and pour on to the pieces of tofu. Stir the glaze into the tofu (ideally with a silicone spoon or spatula to avoid bashing the tofu around too much) until it is evenly coated; don't worry if there is surplus glaze at the bottom of the bowl.
Put the tofu aside and warm 1 tbsp oil over a medium heat in a saucepan. Once the oil is warmed, add the celery, garlic, ginger, spring onion and chili and lightly fry until soft. Add the slices of shiitake mushroom as well as a pinch of salt, and turn up to a high heat. Stir in 1 1/2 tbsps of Shaoxing cooking wine, 1 tbsp of black rice vinegar and 1 tbsp of soy sauce. When this has come to the boil, turn down to medium-low heat, put the lid on the saucepan and let it braise for 5 minutes.
When 5 minutes have passed, add 1 tbsp of oil to a frying pan and put on to a high heat. Meanwhile, turn the saucepan on to a high heat and add the choi sum stalks. Mix until the pan has come back to a boil, return to a medium-low heat and clamp the lid back on for 5 more minutes.
Add the marinated tofu chunks into the hot oil and fry, moving around as much as possible without breaking them. After five minutes, take the tofu off of the heat and add the choi sum leaves and the sesame oil into saucepan with the MSG (if using), cooking for 2 minutes.
Serve with basmati or jasmine rice. Interestingly, I was told that adding a tomato (with the top core section cut out) to the rice cooker would add moisture and flavour to the rice, so I gave it a go!
If you have a rice cooker (and want to try this too), prepare rice as you usually would. Cut out the green section on the top of a tomato and add it in to the cooker. Cook the rice for the usual amount of time, and when it's done mash the tomato into the rice.
So, what did I think? Honestly, it did give the rice a bit of extra moisture but it wasn't perceptibly too different. Give it a go though and see what you think, especially if you have a tomato that will need using up soon.
Notes & Adjustments
I bought the black rice vinegar in a speciality Chinese supermarket. If you can find it there, it's an inexpensive price for a bottle of the vinegar (around the £1.50 mark). You could also order this online if you wished, but a perfectly acceptable alternative would be to mix 1 part balsamic vinegar, 1 part rice vinegar (this is pretty commonly available in supermarkets) and 3 parts water.
Choi Sum is available in many supermarkets (I got mine in Tesco), however if you cannot find it then I think that 2-3 bulbs of pak choi would be an adequate replacement for 200g of choi sum. Choi sum has a great mild-mustard taste, however the mellow pepperiness of pak choi would also work well. You could even do a mix of the two. If you do substitute pak choi, separate the leaves and the stalks in the same way stipulated in the recipe.
Shaoxing cooking wine can be found in some supermarkets. In Tesco it is quite expensive for a bottle (£6), whereas in ASDA I managed to pick up the same quantity for just £2.50. You will also find it for a more reasonable price if you can get to an Asian grocery store. If you can't find it then cooking sherry will also work fine.
Tofu is stocked widely across UK supermarkets, however I found the place that sold it was for the most reasonable price was (somewhat surprisingly) Holland & Barrett so it is worth checking there to see if your local branch stocks it. I picked up a block for £1.50.
Sichuan peppercorns are becoming more common across UK supermarkets, but if you can't find them then 1/4 of a tsp of mace will give a similar mouth-numbing effect. Make sure you don't overdo it!
If you would prefer, oyster mushrooms would work very well in this dish in place of the shiitake.
I'm also very happy to declare that friend-of-the-blog Keith is here for a second time with a cocktail pairing! I'm very much hoping that this will be a long-standing partnership.
So, this time Keith suggests that you should pair this dish with an El Presidente. When I looked up what this was (because I am rather clueless when it comes to cocktails), I instantly agreed. This drink is made with rum, orange curaçao, white vermouth and grenadine. It is apparently quite strong and fairly dry, and I think that the heady taste of the vermouth will correspond quite well with the shaoxing.
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