Vegetarian Cooking Can Feel Hard, But This Crispy Tofu Is Easy
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There are a lot of things I love about my 10-year-old son, but the fact that he’s newly vegetarian isn’t at the top of the list. I know—that sounds super harsh! After all, the guy wants to help save the planet and loves animals, and here I am complaining about it. Truth is, his commitment to a plant-based diet is inspiring to me, but it definitely makes dinnertime complicated. It’s important that he get enough protein—both because he’s growing and because it will help him feel satiated for longer stretches of time—and overnight, he eliminated 80 percent of our protein sources. There are only so many ways to cook chickpeas, edamame, and eggs, which I’ve leaned hard on, and when he gets sick of them, it’s game over.
Then, of course, there’s tofu. For an eater who has always been—let’s say—selective about his likes and dislikes, the vegetarian’s delight hasn’t been too delightful. We tried soft tofu in brothy soups: “Too mushy.” We tried blending it into creamy dressings, but who’s going to eat a bowl of dressing for dinner? I tried breading it—didn’t work. I tried glazing it: “Too slippery.”
What I needed was a way to cook tofu that gave it actual crunch without having to dredge it in rice flour or deep fry it in several inches of hot fat. That’s when the method for these tofu crumbles came into our lives. The technique couldn’t be easier, and will feel intuitive for anyone who has pan-roasted a chicken thigh. Hot pan, slick of oil, add protein, cook until crisp. The secret, though, happens before the tofu ever hits the skillet.
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You need to start with extra-firm tofu, which holds its shape under high-heat conditions, and it must be pressed to expel excess liquid first. The original recipe says to slice the tofu, sandwich it between layers of paper towels, and press with your hands to achieve this. At home, I’ve gotten a little more aggressive: I place the sliced tofu on a rimmed baking sheet that’s been lined with a clean kitchen towel. I fold the towel over the tofu, then put another baking sheet on top of that, and weigh it down with something heavy—a bottle of olive oil or big can of tomatoes work well. Then I prep the rest of the meal while the tofu is being squozen, usually about 10–15 minutes.
When it’s fry time, I tear the tofu into raggedy 2- to 3-inch pieces, so their edges will have more exposed bits to get crunchy, similar to how hand-torn torn croutons have more texture opportunities. Drizzle some neutral oil into a cast-iron pan over medium-high heat, then cook the tofu, undisturbed, until browned on the underside and they release cleanly from the pan when you wedge a metal spatula underneath. Turn and repeat on second side. Once the tofu comes out of the pan, season it with salt right away. I serve it like any other simply prepared piece of protein, with a little hot sauce and soy sauce to dip it into, maybe—but it doesn’t have to be more complicated than that. The unadorned flavor of packaged tofu may be subtle, but these crumbles are as crunchy and addictive as popcorn shrimp, and there’s no trawling involved.
Get the recipe:
Spicy Tofu Crumbles
Originally Appeared on Bon Appétit
