Pro
Nobody can sneak up and backstab me.
Con
I can no longer slump slightly and take subtle naps.
is a blog by Brendan
Pro
Nobody can sneak up and backstab me.
Con
I can no longer slump slightly and take subtle naps.
Last night I made fried tofu for the Tuesday Night Ballers–the first time I’ve had it in many years, and the first time I’ve made it myself. They liked it, or pretended to, and I was glad it turned out the way I remembered it. The smell of making it was a pretty powerful memory trigger.
I ate bacon only rarely until I was in my teens; instead, we always had fried tofu as our bacon substitute, whether on salads, in sandwiches or solo for breakfast. It works very well in each of those roles, but I have no idea what made my parents decide that it was a bacon substitute, because it tastes nothing like bacon (in fact, it tastes like nothing else of which I know). They’re both flat and fried, though, I guess.
Here’s the recipe. I’m calling it this because my mom’s maiden name is Dixon, and that side of the family comprises the only other people I know who make it.
Dixon Family Fried Tofu
- Some Tamari Sauce (similar to soy sauce, but different; look in Asian groceries or health food stores)
- Some Brewer’s Yeast (not regular yeast; check the same health food stores)
- A Hunk of Firm Tofu
- Maybe Some Vegetable Oil
Get out three plates. Cover one with a puddle of tamari and another with a layer of brewer’s yeast. Drain the tofu and place the hunk on the third plate.
Cut slices of the tofu widthwise, as if it were a loaf of bread. Be gentle but firm, so the tofu doesn’t disintegrate, and try to get each slice a little less than a quarter of an inch thick. You probably have enough tamari and yeast to fry the whole block if you want, so cut off as many slices as you plan on eating; two or three is a good for a sandwich or a breakfast side, and one or two is enough to crumble over an individual salad.
Heat up a skillet or a frying pan. You can heat a little of that vegetable oil in there too, if you want–no more than a teaspoon. You can fry without the oil, but it does distribute the heat better than the tamari, so you’re less likely to wind up with little black spots.
Lay each slice flat in the tamari; turn it over several times so it’s covered well, but you don’t have to marinade it. You just want it wet.
Lay those slices in the brewer’s yeast, like you’re breading them (because you are). Do this quickly but well, because the yeast will absorb the sauce and fall off the tofu in clumps if you wait around.
Lay carefully in the skillet and fry until browned. Flip several times to avoid scorching, especially if you’re not using oil, but be careful to avoid the aforementioned clumping problem.
You’ll probably have to add more brewer’s yeast, because it tends to soak up drops of tamari and solidify so it won’t stick to the tofu. Be liberal with both sauce and yeast–they’re providing the flavor. One hunk of tofu serves three to four.
The Lady in the Next Cube is gone, either fired or transferred. Her place has been cleared out except for an empty datebook and an old McDonald’s toy (one of hundreds she used to have). It’s a sad day. I knew her name, but I’m not sure she ever knew mine.
I’ve talked before about my “secret writing project,” which hasn’t been all that secret, since it was easy to find if you explored NewsBruiser’s navigation at all, and anyway I told a bunch of people about it. I’ve never actually described it here, though, and that’s what this is.
Anacrusis. One hundred and one words, five days a week, for almost a year. I posted my two hundredth entry there last Friday, and today–its big debut–is the two hundred and first. I’ve missed a week here and there, and one month during The Great Web Host Debacle of last fall, but overall I’ve been pretty regular and I’m getting better. I hope those continue to be true.
If you’re interested, you can hit that random link a few times to get an idea of what it’s like. I hope you enjoy them. That’s where most of my creative energy has gone while I’ve been not drawing my comic; I’m nervous about this, but it’s been almost a year, and I think I’m about ready for an audience.
After a bit of a scuffle with NewsBruiser 2.4.1, I’ve upgraded this thing and made it work again, and I’m very happy with it. I try to suppress my fervor for certain computer concepts or programs, because I get really annoyed by other evangelists of similar concepts or programs, but sometimes I just have to gush about NewsBruiser.
I’ve ended up using a lot of different web journaling utilities, and NewsBruiser is completely the best, hands down, period. It’s fast and massively customizable. It’s free, not just to download, but to develop and hack. It has every type of syndication feed in existence, and lets you apply custom licensing to everything you write. It can provide links to specific years, months, days, entries, and words within an entry. It can import from anything, including flat HTML–even broken flat HTML. It has an intelligent comment-spam filter, and–in my opinion, most significantly–a powerful, integrated search engine that doesn’t rely on Google crawlers.
Name one other piece of blogging software that does all of that. Come on, I dare you.
I’ve been staying mum about it, because I didn’t want to jinx it like last time, but I have now actually won a round of BlogNomic. I’m quite puffy with pride, although I couldn’t have done it alone.
If you’re at all interested in malleable gaming, I think you should join BlogNomic now–I’m going to put a lot of effort into making this round fun. All you have to do is post a comment on one of the more recent entries, stating your name, your wish and your email address, and we’ll get right to you.
My uncle John provides justification for the backwards locomotion I witnessed yesterday. It’s an interesting site, but I haven’t yet found where they talk about the dangers of, you know, not being able to see where you’re going.
I went to look out the window in the empty office next to my cube, and in the parking lot below I could make out two women. They were talking to each other, and walking, in unison, backwards. They did this for at least fifty feet.
They continued walking and went behind and under a tree, and out of my field of view. When they re-emerged, they were walking forward again, still talking.
I’d write a story about that, if I could think of any justification for it at all.