Category Archives: Great Finds

Tofu Turnaround

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Let’s face it, not many of us are that tickled by tofu.

But Oakland’s new organic tofu producer, Hodo Soy Beanery, might just make you bonkers for bean curd.

That’s because Hodo’s products are made by hand, using much thicker soy milk to create its products. The results are tofu products with a very rich, creamy and fresh “beany” taste.

The factory was started by former financial consultant, Minh Tsai, who grew frustrated that he couldn’t find tofu as fresh and flavorful as he grew up eating in Vietnam.

Now, Tsai sells a variety of tofu and prepared tofu salads at Bay Area farmers markets and select gourmet grocers.

Besides prepared tofu salads, Hodo also produces what is thought to be the only fresh, organic yuba (tofu skin) manufactured in this country. Trays of soy milk are steamed until the proteins rise to the surface and form a skin. Then, each individual skin is lifted from each tray by hand and hung to dry, before being folded up into bags to be sold.

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Cheater’s Baos

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Would you scoff if I told you those fluffy, steamed Asian buns above were made with Pillsbury refrigerated buttermilk biscuit dough?

Yup, the stuff in the tube.

Believe it.

When my buddy, Andrea Nguyen wrote her first cookbook, “Into the Vietnamese Kitchen” (Ten Speed Press) in 2006, there was many a recipe that caught my eye. But none made my jaw drop like this one for “Shortcut Plain Steamed Buns.”

Years ago, Andrea learned this trick from her Chinese-American friend, Victor Fong, who, of course, learned it from his mother.

Crack open a tube of biscuit dough, then separate the rounds of dough. Pat each one into a flattened circle.  Then, fold each circle in half  to create half-moon shapes.

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Global Knife Give-Away — Yeah, That’s What I’m Talkin’ About

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There are moments in cooking that are truly life-changing.

My first time using a really sharp, really well-made knife was such an instance.

I had grown up using my parents’ mishmash of knives that were piled in a kitchen drawer and sharpened only in a blue moon.

In my 20s, though, I purchased my first high-end carbon steel chef’s knife on sale at a department store. I brought it home, unwrapped it from its box, and set a yellow onion on a cutting board to give it a try.

With my first slice through the onion, I nearly shrieked. The knife glided through the dense layers of  the hard onion as easily as a puck whooshes around an air hockey table. I cut another slice, and nearly yelped again. What a joy this was! To be able to cut such thin slivers or chop so evenly — all completely effortlessly — was truly a revelation.

A good knife is absolutely one of the best investments any cook can make.

Of course, it’s not always easy to shell out that kind of money, especially in these challenging times. That’s why I’m thrilled to be able to give one lucky Food Gal reader a “Global 7-inch Oriental Chef’s Knife.” Global knives are beloved by serious cooks worldwide for their sharp, precise, thin blades. These elegant Japanese knives sell for a pretty penny, too.

I have the folks at CSN stores to thank for allowing me to give away such a coveted prize. CSN has more than 200 online stores that sell everything from cookware to yoga accessories to bamboo flooring to barstools.

Contest: The contest is open to anyone in North America. Deadline to enter is the close of Feb. 27. The winner of the Global knife will be announced March 1.

How do you enter? It’s simple as this:

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Fruity Looking Fruit

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What the heck?

How gnarly looking is this?

Yes, if it popped up on my computer screen without warning, I might just let out a yelp.

Actually, it arrived by special delivery to my house the other day, hand-carried over by my friend Damian, a gardener extraordinaire who can grow anything, and I mean ANYTHING.

Yes, he grew this Buddha’s hand that’s otherwise known as citron. Once I got my nerves back in check from the sight of this crazy sea anemone-looking fruit, I nearly got high off its fragrance. It’s intoxicating to say the least. It has notes of Meyer lemon, grapefruit and even a little vanilla. Someone ought to bottle this as Eau de Buddha and sell it for a mint.

In fact, some people, including Damian and his family, just use the Buddha’s hand as a table centerpiece to scent a room beautifully and to be quite the conversation piece for unsuspecting guests.

An octopus-like fruit.

All rind, and little juice, this citrus is prized for its aroma. Its rind is treasured for the exquisite candied peel it makes, too.

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The Tale of a Bowl of Noodles

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A bowl of noodles that represents both the simple and the hard in life.

This is the world’s easiest noodle soup that originated with the world’s hardest job.

Allow me to explain.

Warming, nourishing and filling, this bowl of custardy, thick rice noodles with sweet-smoky slices of Chinese barbecue pork is absolutely no-fuss, no-frett to make.

It has to be. It’s a work-all-day, race-home-to-put-dinner-on-the-table-before-I-collapse kind of dish.

Born of necessity. Born of invention. Born of the need to feed a family speedily, economically and, of course, deliciously.

It’s a dish my late-Mom used to make on hurried and harried weeknights for my Dad, two older brothers, and I.

Like many of my generation, I took it for granted that my parents always made dinner every night, no matter how tired they might be, no matter how much of a hassle it might have been. Not until I became an adult, myself, did I realize what a far from small miracle that truly was.

When I worked full-time as a newspaper reporter, there were long days when I’d arrive home so exhausted that I was in a complete daze. Those times, I’d often think to myself: “How did my parents do it? How?”

Here I was single, responsible for taking care of only myself, and it was downright draining. Even when I got married, and gained a husband to look after, it was still a far cry from how my parents managed to work five days a week and raise three kids without ever seeming too pooped to do any of  it. There was never a complaint, never a word uttered that it was all too much and they just wanted to give up.

I marvel at that, at all that parents manage to get done while life refuses to wait or even slow down one iota.

As a teen, I spent various summers working at my parents’ offices to make extra spending money. I remember waking up on weekdays at the same time as my parents, and climbing into the backseat of the car to go to work with one of them, as my Dad would make the drive into San Francisco’s financial district. He’d drop my Mom off first at the landmark, monolithic Bank of America building, where she would take the express elevator up to one of the higher floors to her job at a stock brokerage firm, where she handled estate work. Then, my Dad would drive on to his job at nearby Greyhound, where he was a book-keeper.

Sometimes at lunch-time, I’d walk with my Mom to nearby Chinatown to help her pick up provisions for that night’s dinner. Or if I was at my Dad’s office, the two of us would head there after work to buy ingredients before he picked up my Mom to drive us all home.

Often, those ingredients included that lovely lacquered Chinese barbecued pork and a box of freshly-made, fat rice noodles. My Mom would put a big pot of canned chicken broth to heat on the stove. In would go a few coins of fresh ginger, some slivers of yellow onion, a dash of soy sauce, a drizzle of sesame oil, and the slices of barbecued pork and cut-up rice noodles.

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