Sunday, Nov. 23, 2008
Dear Diary:

Just for the record, the word I was searching for was "disk".

The hunt for tasty, low cholesterol yet high protein meals for the spousal unit has led us down some, uh, interesting paths.

Some things, such as quinoa, have been one of those great, unexpected finds. We both love it, and I substitute this high protein wonder in any recipe that calls for couscous. Quinoa we can call a winner.

And then there's tofu.

Ah, tofu. I know that there are people who love tofu and will even eat it plain. I suppose I could say something snarky such as, "Well, it beats eating glue. Or erasures." Except, well, that would be a bald-faced lie.

By roaming through the tubes of the internets, I have found a few successful tofu recipes--among them jerk tofu. The secret to tofu appears to be marinating it in some mighty powerful ingredients and then frying the living daylights out of it to give it both texture and flavah. I tell myself that the olive oil I'm using is heart healthy, but, well �

Which brings us to tofu bombs.

One of the food blogs I read mentioned tofu bombs as a great substitute for meat balls in pasta dishes. Well, the spousal unit loves the wonderful world of pasta, so I figured I'd give the bombs a shot.

They're a simple recipe, involving very finely crumbled extra firm tofu, dried bread crumbs, finely chopped onion, tamari, basil or oregano and, uh, peanut butter.

Shhhhhhhhhhhh.

All the posters at the vegetarian web site that had the tofu bomb recipe swore that the peanut butter was virtually impossible to taste. This is important because although the spousal unit loves peanut butter on toast, he loathes it as an ingredient in a main course dish.

Oh yes, the man is a party in a can at a Thai restaurant.

I had hoped to get the tofu bombs made before he came in, so that the presence of the peanut butter would be a secret, but alas, he came in early. He regarded the bombs with great scepticism.

The instructions said to roll them into balls, flour them, and brown them in a frying pan. I suggested that it would be faster to flatten them, that they would fry much more quickly that way. I searched for the word I wanted to use to describe the new shape �.

"Pucks?" the spousal unit helpfully suggested.

Fine. Make fun. It wasn't going to make them go away.

So I fried them up and honestly? They weren't bad. They had a surprisingly meat like texture. The peanut butter was there, but only a teensy tiny echo of it. The spousal unit grudgingly ate four of the pucks bombs.

I think that next time I make them I'm going to ratchet things up in the spice and seasoning department. I'm thinking a couple of cloves of garlic wouldn't be remiss, maybe a shot of cumin and a pinch of cayenne. I'm hoping that the extra spice will further mask the peanut butter.

I don't expect them to become a hit, exactly, but I would like it if their appearance wasn't greeted with an expression that said, "Oh, man, what did I do to deserve this?"

A woman can dream, right?

--Marn

Mileage on the Marnometer: 389.81 miles.

Going Nowhere Collaboration

Goal for 2008: 500 miles


.:Comments (6 so far):.

Old Drivel - New Drivel


Subscribe with Bloglines


Want to delve into my sordid past?
She's mellllllllllllllting - Wednesday, Feb. 15, 2012 - Back off, Buble - Monday, Dec. 19, 2011 - Dispersed - Monday, Nov. 28, 2011 - Nothing comes for free - Monday, Nov. 21, 2011 - None of her business - Friday, Nov. 04, 2011 -


.:Cast:. .:Diaryland Notes:. .:Comments (6 so far):. .:E-mail:.
.:Adventures In Oz:.
.:12% Beer:. .:Links:. .:Host:. .:Archives:.

Cavort, cavort, my kingdom for a cavort Globe of Blogs 12 Per Cent Beer my partners in crime


A button for random, senseless, drive-by linkings:
Blogroll Me!


< ? blogs by women # >
Bloggers over forty + ?
<< | BlogCanada | >>
[ << ? Verbosity # >> ]
<< x Blog x Philes x >>


This template is a riff on a design by the truly talented Quinn. Because I'm a html 'tard, I got alot of pity coding to modify it from Ms. Kittay, a woman who can make html roll over, beg, and bring her her slippers. The logo goodness comes from the God of Graphics, the Fuhrer of Fonts, the one, the only El Presidente. I smooch you all. The background image is part of a painting called Higher Calling by Carter Goodrich which graced the cover of the Aug. 3, 1998 issue of The New Yorker Magazine.

Kids, don't try viewing this at home without Netscape 6 or IE 4.5+, a screen resolution of 800 X 600 and the font Mead Bold firmly ensconced on your hard drive.

�2000, 2001, 2002 Marn. This is me, dagnabbit. You be you.