I have a dreadful recipe book, called The Frugal Cook or somesuch thing. It’s usually a bad sign when I pull it off the shelf.
It practically opened right up to the tofu meatball page. Which is uncanny, since there was a leftover 1/2 block of tofu in my fridge. If I didn’t get to it that night it would turn on me, and rather aggressively at that.
The entire doomed process took half an hour, including making a (rather tasty, if I do say so myself) tomato sauce, and a steaming tangle of wholewheat spaghetti.
There they were, tiny balls of tofu-ey yucchiness, fried into submission. I felt I had a responsibility to those tofuballs. Onto the delicious pasta with tomato sauce and parmesan they went.
They were oddly sweet and oddly bitter, and their texture resembled cottage cheese. Remember cottage cheese? It was the diet food of my adolescence.
I ate around the sinister beige golf balls and occasionally took a tiny bite. It’s like I was ten and had a hippie mama in a hemp dress and a patchwork apron standing over me wielding a bat. I finally left most of them on my plate. The rest of the tofuballs went to their inevitable compost grave.
November. Marking, meetings, brain like mush. Not the best month for cooking, but a girl’s gotta stay healthy.
What do you cook/eat/takeout when you’re in the weeds?