Tonight’s the night. I mean, it seems simple enough: Cut the firm, pressed tofu into cubes, dredge in flour, heat the Canola oil until it’s smoking, and lower the cubes into the oil with a slotted spoon. But will it work? Or will the tofu come undone?
These are the rare first world-third world problems facing all of us. So many dilemmas are divided by class and culture and race, and then there are the rare ones, like frying tofu, that cross barriers.
Like receiving an invoice from a place of business that performed an array of services, but which is not itemized. Why is that OK?
You might as well apply the unitemized bill concept to a restaurant. Actually, come to think of it, that’s what happens. The place doesn’t list all the work that went into getting the fried tofu to your table. It just says: Fried tofu, and lists a price.
I understand: these are not precisely analogous, but then I’m not a synecdoche for precision. That’d be a mechanical clock.
Anyway, the point here is that frying the tofu at home–should I succeed–will lead to great excitement. Healthier approach: Canola oil, tofu from a good Vietnamese company a mile down the street, no salt, and the removal of grease.