Taming the texture of tofu

It should come as no surprise that the best tofu I ever had was in Japan. What's surprising is that it was for breakfast.

At a multicourse meal in a beautiful Kyoto inn, the server, wrapped in traditional garb, poured soy milk into a cast-iron pot set over a candle and topped it with a lid.

There it sat for five, 10 minutes — it felt like an eternity — before she uncovered it and we spooned it out: a creamy, nutty, delectable custard made out of little more than soy milk, presumably thickened with nigari, a bitter salt.

Heaven.

Here in the West, meanwhile, tofu gets a bad rap; it's doomed to a reputation as health food in the worst, most obligatory sense.

For everyone who praises its versatility and adaptability to surrounding flavors, others seem to find that same blank-slatedness to be the worst trait imaginable.

In Asia, where tofu has been a staple for thousands of years, no such debate rages. That might be because cooks there are accustomed to super-fresh tofu, whose creamy texture and mild (but not absent) flavor match the cuisines.

In Japan, where subtlety is often the goal, tofu fits right in. In China, its blandness can help offset, say, the numbing fire of Sichuan peppercorns.

Back in the States, tofu's watery-yet-rubbery texture, not its taste (or lack thereof), is what bothers me most, especially when I cook with it.

Even after I drain and press the tofu, that texture seems to make it prone to sticking or falling apart — or both — when stir-fried. Broiled, pan-fried or deep-fried, it can get tough if I'm not careful.

And no matter what I would do with it, I couldn't get much flavor into it, or certainly out of it, although I have frequently turned to the silken variety (rather than firm) to blend with herbs and seasonings for one of my go-to salad dressings.

I persisted because I was drawn to the fact that before you open the package, tofu can last in the refrigerator (or even in the pantry, depending on the variety) for weeks.

But once it's open, the clock starts ticking and you have to change the water it's submerged in every day if you want to keep the tofu around for a week.

That's a hassle for a busy single cook interested in smaller portions.

I knew there was much more to learn about this ingredient; how could millions of people be wrong? Yet I set it aside in favor of easier, more obviously appealing ingredients.

But my tastes are evolving, and as I've found myself cooking less and less meat at home out of health and environmental concerns (and partly to make up for the meat I eat in restaurants), tofu has returned to my repertoire as a high-quality source of protein.

It's nowhere near eggs and beans, in my book, but it's moving in that direction.

I've gotten around my objections by focusing on marinated and baked tofu, partly because its refrigerator life is longer and relatively hassle-free, giving me multiple chances to use it before it starts to go off.

Store-bought versions are particularly dense, holding up well in a stir-fry, and they can be great when added to salads or even sandwiches. But they are much more expensive than plain tofu, and their sauce is so packed with flavor that they are less versatile.

Moreover, the ingredient list includes things such as caramel color, xanthan gum and citric acid, a shame when the original product can be so pure.

I started following the direction of some of the original hippie cooks — members of the Moosewood Collective, the group behind the restaurants and cookbooks of the same name — and began marinating and baking my own, an easy process that renders the tofu slightly drier and lets me add the flavors I choose. (Usually it's an Asian-style mix of soy, sake, ginger and sugar.)

For an even sturdier, more flavorful result, I've also been playing around with freezing the tofu first. It makes it much chewier and even more absorbent; or, in the words of cookbook author Kim O'Donnel ("The Meat Lover's Meatless Cookbook"), the tofu goes "from no way, Jose, to bring it on!"

I don't like the result for any old purpose; the texture can get a little crumbly, and when I tried it on the grill, that dryness was a turnoff.

But when I froze some firm tofu and then squeezed out the extra liquid, tossed it in the marinade and baked it, what came out of the oven were perfectly toothsome little squares that had sucked up much more of the marinade than the non-frozen stuff.

I would've used that tofu all week long — if I had been able to resist popping the cubes in my mouth every time I opened the fridge.

Baked Marinated Tofu

Makes 2 servings, or about 2 cups

The tofu can sit in its marinade, covered and refrigerated, for up to 1 day. After baking, the cooled tofu can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 1 week.

14 ounces (1 block) extra-firm tofu
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil
1 tablespoon low-sodium soy sauce
1 tablespoon rice wine, sake or dry sherry
1 tablespoon rice vinegar or apple cider vinegar
1 medium clove garlic, pressed or finely chopped
1-inch piece peeled ginger root, grated
4 tablespoons water
½ teaspoon hot chili paste

1. If you're freezing the tofu, leave it in its unopened package and freeze for at least 24 hours and up to 1 week. Transfer to refrigerator and allow to defrost for 1 day. Once defrosted, remove it from package and drain, then wrap it in paper towels, hold it over the sink and press with your hands to remove much of the liquid.

2. If you're not freezing the tofu, drain it, wrap it in paper towels, set it on a microwave-safe plate and microwave on high for 30 seconds. Remove paper towels, rewrap tofu with fresh ones, and microwave on high for another 30 seconds. Repeat one or two more times, until tofu is noticeably firmer. (Alternatively, you can press tofu: Wrap drained block in paper towels, place on a plate, place a second plate on top and put a large unopened can of tomatoes or beans on top; let tofu exude extra liquid for about 30 minutes. Unwrap, and pat tofu dry.)

3. Heat the oven to 350 degrees.

4. Cut the tofu into 1-inch cubes.

5. Stir together sesame oil, soy sauce, rice wine, vinegar, garlic, ginger, water and chili paste in a 9-by-13-inch baking dish. Add the tofu cubes and gently toss to combine.

6. Bake for about 45 minutes, turning the tofu onto a different side three or four times during the baking, until the tofu is browned and most of the marinade is absorbed or evaporated.

7. Serve immediately, use in a recipe, or cool and refrigerate in an airtight container for up to 1 week.

Nutrients per serving: 250 calories, 17 grams protein, 10 grams carbohydrate, 17 grams fat, 1 gram saturated fat, no cholesterol, 370 milligrams sodium, no dietary fiber, 2 grams sugar.

Based in part on a recipe in "Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant" by the Moosewood Collective

(Simon and Schuster/Fireside, 1990)

Spicy Basil Tofu Fried Rice

Makes 1 serving

Baked tofu is less likely to fall apart than fresh in this quick stir-fry. If you want the dish to be spicier, use some or all of the seeds of the chili pepper rather than discarding them.

1 teaspoon low-sodium soy sauce
1 tablespoon water
1 teaspoon light brown sugar
2 teaspoons peanut oil
1 small Thai chili pepper, stemmed, seeded and chopped
2 medium cloves garlic, chopped
1 cup Baked Marinated Tofu (see recipe)
½ small red bell pepper, stemmed, seeded and cut into ½-inch dice
1 cup cooked brown or white rice
4 large basil leaves, rolled and cut crosswise into thin slices (chiffonade), plus more for garnish

1. Combine the soy sauce, water and brown sugar in a small bowl, stirring to dissolve the sugar.

2. Heat the oil in a large nonstick skillet or wok over high heat, swirling to coat. Add the chili pepper and garlic; stir-fry until fragrant, about 20 seconds. Add the tofu and stir-fry until heated through and lightly colored, about 2 minutes.

3. Add the bell pepper, cooked rice and the soy sauce mixture; stir-fry until the pepper has started to soften and the liquid has evaporated, about 1 or 2 minutes. Add the basil and stir-fry just until it wilts, about 20 seconds. Garnish with basil and eat immediately.

Nutrients per serving: 600 calories, 24 grams protein, 69 grams carbohydrate, 28 grams fat (3 grams saturated fat), no cholesterol, 550 milligrams sodium, 5 grams dietary fiber, 10 grams sugar.

Adapted from "A Year in a Vegetarian Kitchen" by Jack Bishop (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2004)