Tofu-Masochist

I am no shrinking wallflower in the kitchen. I am comfortable and confident, a go-getter. I'm ready to take charge, try new things, be bold, be daring. I cook without fear. In fact, if there is one place in the world I am confident, it is in the kitchen.

Tofu enters the picture, and it's another thing entirely.

Since almost half my friends are vegetarian, I've done a lot of cooking with tofu. What else are they supposed to eat? I like the challenge of working with different ingredients, I like the versatility of tofu. I like the green movement it stands for, the nutritional benefits. I like the idea of it.

But tofu itself? I hate it.

I become a different chef when I'm cooking tofu. Instead of taking charge with reckless abandon, I turn into a hesitant, unsure cook. I want someone to tell me what to do- heck, sometimes I just want the tofu to tell me what to do. I become a sous-chef in my own kitchen.

And unfortunately, the tofu also ends up taking a hit in the process. Because I am always trying to use it as a substitute for a recipe that calls for meat.

If there's one thing I've learned about tofu it's this- what you see is not what you get. How in the world do people make this look appetizing? And why have so many healthy chefs insisted it's easy to work with?

On this attempt, I used coconut milk and red curry as a marinade for a block of medium-firm tofu. First mistake- I didn't press the water out of the tofu first. Second mistake- I should have used extra firm tofu. I don't understand what difference it makes.

Doesn't it look like the tofu is laughing at me? It must be amused that I served it on a bed of wild, not jasmine, rice.

So tofu makes me second guess. So I have to double check my recipe, fiddle with the oven temperatures, add things. So I hold my breath when I take my first bite, unsure of the results. I refuse to let it beat me to submission.

This tofu business just makes me crave real food even more. Luckily, I planned ahead and pulled camembert out of the fridge before I started the tofu abuse project of the day. Cheese and crackers never looked so good.

Run and hide, tofu. I'm going to be your master one of these days.

Overheard in Brooklyn- Snap, Crackle, Pop

Some of you may be familiar with the overheard-in-New-York quotes. I hear the best ones on the subway, but usually forget to write them down.

Here's a great one I heard in Brooklyn. I look forward to adding more as they come along. Feel free to submit one of your own!


Teenaged boy 1: My skateboard ain't got enough pop.

Teenaged boy 2: Yo, my skateboard tail got more pop than Beyonce's booty.

-Bushwick, Brooklyn

Marley and I

Have you ever known anyone in a rocky relationship who got a dog to try and fix it? Well, those frustrated souls are really on to something. It's true, a dog can fix a relationship.

Life in New York has presented some obstacles. Finding steady work, making ends meet, dealing with the massive crowds, being without a car and away from family are only a few of the countless challenges of living in the big city.

When I was ready to hang up on New York completely, I had a change of heart when a dog entered the picture. Actually, it was more like a pack. I became a dog walker.

You may think the last thing a disenchanted New Yorker in February needs is a job walking the streets and picking up poop all day. Yep, that's exactly what I needed.

I am a tunnel-visioned speed walker who marches from point A to point B with little patience. Put a leash in my hand and I'm a different woman. I lengthen my gait. I really open my eyes and look around. I notice relaxing park benches I never knew were there. I walk by literary cafes to add to my "must go to" list. I notice the ornamental hardware on buildings. I get out of the tunnel.

I owe it all to Marley. (Yes, dogwalkers, like teachers, do have favorites.) He is a handsome boxer with an unparalleled joie de vivre and enthusiasm for New York that instantly rubbed off on me and changed my outlook.

Boxers are easy to misjudge. Their good looks and over-the-top perkiness reminds me of a high school cheerleader and makes them come off as dumb. Don't be fooled, these dogs are just trying to contain a heart and soul that's too big for its body.

The uncontrollable licking, I'm convinced, must be the result of a tongue too big for its mouth. Or a sensitive palate.

Next time you go through an existential crisis and want to flee, take a deep breath and unpack your bags. Maybe you just need more dogs in your life.

A Neat Knitting Nook

Any knitters out there? Here's a great idea of how to organize your stash. A converted wine cellar makes each skein instantly visible by color and texture:


Of course, that leaves the question of where to put the wine. Tough choices. I guess it's all in your priorities.

Since my storage is limited to the space under my bed, I cram all my yarn in a Rubbermaid sweater box and use Ravelry to organize my stash. I can not even begin to go into all the ways Ravelry benefits knitters through free patterns, keeping track of what yarn you've used, a forum for getting knitting help, and how to display your projects and materials. It is the social network site, or facebook, for knitters. Yes, it's totally dorky, but sign up now. Just do it. Please. It will change your life.

In the meantime, if you have an open space in your wine cellar, claim a cubby for projects. It's still too early to abandon hope on New Year's resolutions, so get organized!

Now I just need to find a way to fit a wine rack under my bed.

Midtown Monday

I love New York. And when I start to forget why, something will accidentally remind me. Last night, a dead cell phone led me to Midtown. When it couldn't be fixed, frustration led me to Bryant Park.

I LOVE Bryant Park. It is such a wonderful open space on the most crowded street in Manhattan. Though sandwiched between Grand Central and Times Square on 42nd Street, it's surprisingly not obnoxious. I prefer it so much to Union Square, because it serves the public as a place of leisure and not a place of stress and shopping.

Take the pond. It is transformed into a free ice rink in the winter, and an open lawn in the summer for yoga classes, movies and more.

Throw in a fountain that turns into a huge ice cube when the holidays hit. Add some Parisian cafe tables and chairs for people watchers and chess players. Plant some twisted beech trees, and in the spring, tulips and daffodils.

Hang a sliver of a moon in a black sky and let the lights of the city be the stars. Trust me, they will help you find your way.

Dumb and DUMBO

It's late Monday afternoon and I think I'm finally starting to recover from Saturday night. My friend, Max, was in town from LA, Vegas, and Humboldt County (she's a woman of the world), so I met her in DUMBO for drinks and theater.

DUMBO is ... weird. It's a super cool part of Brooklyn, literally down under the Manhattan Bridge overpass- an old industrial area turned funky. To me, it's trying to capture a neighborhood feel when no one really lives there. I was still happy to check it out, since it's a part of Brooklyn I don't know well.

We met at Rice for pho, pad thai, and sake. Nothing like a bottle of hot sake on a cold night- but it's probably better to order it for two and not just drink the whole thing yourself.

Next was a show at St. Ann's Warehouse, and the theatrics of the night began. Max, a seasoned actress and producer, has wanted to see the Kneehigh Theatre's production of Noel Coward's Brief Encounter. I don't know much about theater, but I knew if Max scheduled her trip around this performance, it was going to be a great show.

And it was! I've dabbled in a bit of drama since moving to New York, but this was the first play that didn't leave me feeling alienated and confused (oh, thank you for that, Richard Foreman).

Afterwards, we went and got drinks at the Dumbo General Store, which had a huge range of high brow brews and also the gritty stuff for a divey girl like me. One of which was:

... which is really funny when you're with a good friend who also finds the idea of pigs slapping bellies a hilarious thing to put on a beer label. Other great beers included Coney Island Lager, with popcorn and caramel notes, Double Daddy Imperial IPA (from Speakeasy Brewery in San Francisco), and the Human Blockhead Barrel Aged Lager (also from Coney Island), aged in Jack Daniels barrels. Yum! Max is contemplating the overwhelming bouquet at the bottom right.

Yep, the Porkslap label is still really funny. They know how to do it upstate in Garratsville.

A treat for your ears, actors from the Kneehigh company came out after the show to play a couple ditties with a throwback to ska. They covered Destiny's Child's "Survivor," "The Time of my Life" from Dirty Dancing, and, my favorite, "Final Countdown!" Not the greatest footage, but any of you Arrested Development fans out there will appreciate this:

Baking Up Better Test Scores

It's been almost five years since I was in a school environment, seven if you count college.  My study skills were never sharp to begin with, making me me that much rustier in the pre-apprenticship program for women that I'm in for the next month. 

Imagine the surprise to find myself at the head of the class- and in mathematics, which was one of my weakest subjects throughout my academic career, second only to anything related to science.  And now I'm feeling comfortable with math? 

I attribute it all to my baking.

Fractions have become a tangible concept I can apply to my daily life as a baker.  I use them all the time.  I may have gotten a D in high school chemistry, but it hasn't slowed me down from being a chemist in the kitchen. 

So just a little tip for those of you who also struggle with maths and sciences: put on an apron and start cooking.

And don't ask things like "when am I ever going to need to know this" because one day you just may eat your words.  Literally.