At about eight years old, and around a week into my vegetarian journey, my dad announced that I would be consuming a lot of “bean curd,” a bland, colorless plant-based substance made from soybeans. More commonly known as tofu, this soft, which absence of flavor was forced upon me to ensure I wouldn’t waste away for lack of protein simply because I didn’t want cute animals to die. My dad was a good cook, but tofu is a special skillset. And because he thought of it as a meat substitute, he cooked it like a steak, with olive oil, salt and pepper. As a budding young foodie, I’d rather have been waterboarded, and I broke. Incalculable numbers of animals have since died because my dad couldn’t cook tofu.
Turns out the best way to make tofu taste like meat is to cook it with meat, which is commonly done in Asian cuisine. Think Chinese mapo tofu or Korean soondobu.
We can also cook tofu in ways that will make you forget about meat altogether, in ways the most hardened of carnivore will lust for.
My friend Brad would sooner shoot tofu with his 9mm then eat it, or so I assumed. But when I to Houston, his city of origin, and asked for a restaurant recommendation, I was blindsided by his hyper specific recommendation. With Houston, birthplace of Texas bbq and home to some very large steaks at my finger tips, Brad insisted I order the clay pot tofu at Van Loc.
“Those mushrooms in that peppery broth,” he recalled wistfully. “That’s all I ever order.”
At Van Loc that night, my Clay Pot arrived simmering at my table. Shards of black pepper were visible to the naked eye, coating chunks of celery, shitake mushrooms, and golden cubes of deep-fried tofu. The tofu had somehow absorbed the penetrating aromas of the broth without losing its toothy crisp.
There was enough black pepper, and probably white pepper as well, to make it spicy in the absence of chili pepper heat. Vietnam being the world’s largest producer (and exporter) of black pepper, while chile peppers are from the Americas, the black pepper is regionally appropriate.
Celery, meanwhile, takes a rare post at center stage, balanced artfully with the mushrooms, which add an earthy gravitas. Shiitake is most authentic. I recently made a batch with wild harvested oyster and morel mushrooms mixed with cultivated crimini. I also added jalapeno pepper, very non authentic but so good.
The recipe starts with the crispy tofu, and if it also ended there few would complain. If there is some kind of a tangy dipping sauce within reach, and at least one person in the room, any amount of fried tofu would be in jeopardy.
But if you can hang onto enough of these toothy golden cubes for your clay pots, the veggie laden broth plays the sauce. Because of their corrupting delectability the cook would be wise to double the quantities of tofu, egg and cornstarch called for, so that after the inevitable loss of tofu due to snackers and nibblers, a satisfactory quantity of cubes will remain for the pots.
Clay Pot Tofu
While “Clay Pot” is in the name and and procedure, you don’t need an official clay pot to prepare this. You just need a vessel that is small, oven safe, and has a lid.
Serves 2, with plenty of leftover fried tofu
Ingredients
1 16-oz brick of firm tofu, drained
1 egg
6 tablespoons cornstarch ( or sweet potato or tapioca starch)
3 cups fry oil (I use wagyu beef tallow)
2 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
2 large cloves garlic, minced
3 green onions, chopped
1 jalapeno, sliced thinly (This is optional, I used it
1/2 a large onion, sliced into thin rings
1 cup of whole shitake mushrooms (or other kinds of mushrooms), cut or whole depending on their size. If using dried mushrooms, soak them in three cups of boiled water, and don’t discard the soaking water.
2 celery stalks
1/4 cup soy of ponzu sauce
1/4 cup rice vinegar
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon black pepper
1 teaspoon white pepper
2 tablespoons fish sauce
jasmine rice for serving
Procedure
Cut the tofu into cubes of about an inch per side, and place in a medium-sized bowl. Heat a quart of water with 1/4 cup of salt. When it boils, pour the hot brine over the tofu. Let soak for 15 minutes. Drain the brine and pat dry each face of each chunk of tofu with a paper towel.
This technique is one of several ways to remove water from the tofu, which is essential. You can also freeze the chunks, which will give it a durable, spongy texture makes it easy to squeeze out the water, and pleasing to eat.
Beat the egg, really well. Put the tofu cubes into a mixing bowl, pour the eggs over them, and stir gently by lifting from below to thoroughly coat all faces. Add the starch 2 tablespoons at a time, folding it in before adding more.
Whatever fry oil you use, add two tablespoons of toasted sesame oil to the fry oil for flavor, and heat it to the point where it sputters angrily when you flick in some water (about 350 degrees). Submerge the coated tofu cubes into the hissing oil. Don’t overload the fryer or let two pieces touch, or they will adhere together
Remove and drain the fried chunks. Keep them in safe place, away from any tangy sauces.
Add two tablespoons of the fry oil to a wok or pan on medium heat, and fry the garlic, onions, green onions and mushrooms.
Break each celery stalk backwards and pull the strands out of both. Then cut the two halves into two-inch pieces, and add them to the wok. Add the mushrooms. Cover.
Whisk together the soy sauce, fish sauce, rice vinegar, black and white pepper and sugar, and add it to the stir-fry. Add one cup of water, stock or mushroom soaking water, taste, and adjust seasoning with soy sauce, ponzu sauce, black pepper, sugar, sesame oil and rice vinegar, until it tastes how you want it.
Add the tofu, gently stir it together by lifting the spatula, and transfer the tofu, mushrooms and celery to the clay pots, and pour in as much broth as you can. Put the lids on the pots and place them in a pre-heated oven at 350 degrees, and bake for ten minutes. Serve the simmering pots, being careful not to let anyone burn themselves. Eat the contents straight from the pot, or spoon it over jasmine rice.