Once, in college, I went out with a friend on a sort-of date to a Chinese restaurant. Chinese food was not big in Philly then. But there are plenty of things to order in an Americanized, not-so-great Chinese restaurant that will be reliably tasty: hot and sour soup, pork dumplings, anything with fried chicken in it (General Tso’s, Sesame Chicken, etc.). It is not the time to try anything unusual or authentic. My theory is that since a not-so-great Chinese restaurant is serving General Tso’s 99% of the time, it should be passable. So I went with the flow. After I ordered, my date ordered. He asked for some steamed tofu and vegetables. It wasn’t on the menu—he just generated this combination. And then he asked for the tofu to be “marinated.”

I don’t always remember the details of what other people order in restaurants (despite my recent incredulity at my “friend” ordering lasagna in a Dominican restaurant), especially when we are talking about approximately 19 years ago. But I do remember this particular time because it made me question so many things at once. One, why go off-menu here, of all places, and for something so terribly boring? Two, do people actually marinate tofu? Three, why am I potentially dating this man again? He suddenly seemed like the least fun person on the planet.

I liked tofu, but I certainly wasn’t such a ninny that I would order it, steamed, on a date, and, further, to specify that I’d like it marinated. Sheesh. Live a little! After that order, there was never going to be anything fun or delicious about the evening. His dish came and was terrible. Well, in all honesty, I don’t think we actually exchanged bites (another red flag). But I remember how it looked when it came to the table: limp carrots and hunks of celery, steamed soy-stained slabs o’ tofu. Luckily, my love life and my tofu eating have made great strides since then.

Handled with care, tofu can be truly delicious. It is inherently flabby and bland, not first on the list of sexy, joie-de-vivre ingredients. But I see these as secretly good attributes. Its flabbiness is actually a very desirable texture if you treat it well: you can poach it in soup or a curry so it becomes delicate soft little cubes, or fry it so the outside becomes crispy and the inside remains custardy, or roast it in slabs for a hearty, chewy texture reminiscent of meat. And its blandness means it can go in all sorts of culinary directions. It absorbs flavors easily, so you can rub it with spices, glaze it, or just serve it in or with a punchy sauce. Also, it’s one of the handiest things to keep around for a quick meal—those refrigerated packs last in the fridge forever and shelf-stable blocks work fine too. 

So to make tasty tofu, it’s all about technique. Here’s a simple one I learned from a charming Korean comic-book cookbook called Cook Korean! The results are quick and amazing: Hot and crisped and browned on the outside, and a bit soft and chewy in the middle. All you need to do is brown the tofu in a single layer in a covered nonstick pan. That’s it. No weighing it down to press out the liquid (though I do dry it off with a paper towel), no hectic stir-frying, no sticking. It won’t break into curdy pieces on you, and it doesn’t require deep-frying or even much oil.

After, I like to dip it in a soy/vinegar/sambal oelek sauce or a quick peanut sauce, though a miso-mayo would be amazing. Or, because of how nondescript its flavor it, you could go in a non-Asian direction, like tahini-garlic sauce. Plus the finished tofu makes a great ingredient in other dishes—see below for ideas. You could even marinate it beforehand, if you patted it dry after: garlic, ginger, sesame oil, and soy will indeed make an impact. But I wouldn’t go advertising that fact in a social setting unless you want your dining companion to complain about your being a snoozefest. There are some details best left unsaid.

Pan-Fried Tofu

Slice firm tofu into slabs and press with a paper towel to remove excess moisture. In a hot nonstick pan with a tablespoon or so of oil, put slices of tofu in a single layer.  Cover the pan and cook over medium heat without disturbing the tofu until it’s browned on the bottom. Flip and continue cooking, covered, until browned on opposite side. Serve immediately with a snappy sauce.

Other ideas for pan-fried tofu:

• Sandwiches: vegan muffuletta (tofu + olive salad), banh mi, cheeseburger treatment (pickles, tomato, lettuce, melted cheese, mayo, mustard, etc.)
• Faux saag paneer: replace the paneer with cubed-up browned tofu
• Faux buffalo chicken wings: toss hot browned tofu in mixture of melted butter and hot sauce, serve with blue cheese dressing
• Tofu parm: Cover with tomato sauce and mozzarella and bake
• Cube and add to noodle salads, soups, stir-fry, rice bowls, or curries