On Tofu...

The Author had to recover from a gruelling weekend of conferences and interviews in Sydney (more on that in future wonderposts). All had quietened down, and time for ones-self was finally found. The Author stumbled around Pitt Street Mall hoping to find some real alternative to the atrocities of the Golden Arches. But given the late hour in the afternoon that the author concluded his work, restaurants one by one were shutting their doors and slamming the padlocks. Before reaching the point of desparation that would leave one flailing his hands around and screaming like a banshee, the Author found a Japanese restaurant, in which the author hoped to find sustanence in some light, authentic Japanese fare. What folly...

The Author's initial craving for sushi soon disappeared at the sight of the horrors being served on the dishes being tooted around on the train-like device that has now become so frightfully commonplace in Japanese restaurants. Not a scrap of raw fish in sight. What the author beheld were jumbles of tentacle-like strips of dried seaweed, fish-sticks and some viscous liquids sitting in bundles of seaweed sheets, making the whole package look like byproducts of a bad experiement in Area 51.

The only remotely edible choice lay in Agedashi Tofu. "Fine...even if the sushi does look like the offspring of the aliens in The Puppet Master, how bad can Agedashi Tofu be?" The Author thought. To be fair, visually the serve of tofu given was quite pleasing. Neatly cut, oblong pieces of tofu could potentially be the stuff of a good tofu dish, as opposed to the traditional method shown in the diagram. And to be fair, the faults of the tofu rest on a minor point technique.

Maybe it was the fatigue from the weekend, maybe it was the Author's low blood-sugar levels initiating a bout of Tourette's that had to be constructively redirected, but the Author felt obliged to whisper loudly the words that could make sense to no one except the truly insane: YOU DON'T USE FIRM TOFU IN AGEDASHI!

A bit of context in order. In most good japanese restaurants, like one in a small arcade in an Asian section of the Queens Street Mall in Brisbane, Agedashi Tofu is a delicate dish that uses the crispness of deep fried tempura batter to hold the shape of a piece of soft silken tofu, sitting in a small pool of broth made from soya sauce, mirin and soup stock, creating a wonderfully light savoury cushion of bliss.

Firm tofu, unlike silken tofu, has much of the water pressed out of it, creating a much stiffer tofu that can in the event of an emergency be used as a posturpedic mattress. A mattress, even one coated in tempura batter, does not a wonderfully light savoury cushion of bliss make. The dish seemed more suited for safety gear for the Grand Prix than for high-brow consumption. And one should never forget the broth, which comprised of a type of vinegar that would strip the tarnish of Tutankamen's silverware.

But ever the good slave to the liturgies of free market economics, the Author finished the dish, wolfed down the broth (and corroded half his oesophagus in the process), paid the bill and walked off feeling cheated by life once again. The burger from Hungry Jack's that the Author consumed at the airport an hour later proved to be the only consolation to this saga.