(My)po Tofu
Is it bad that I learned about this Chinese dish from a Japanese anime? Kind of, sort of. But anyway…
What we’re looking at today is my current go-to order when it comes to takeout—mapo tofu. While your standard fare of sesame chicken and lo mein is fine and good and all (even though it’s a far cry from authentic Chinese cuisine, but that’s a whole other can of worms), sometimes you got to mix things up a bit.
We can have a whole panel discussion on tofu if you’d like, but the bottom line is that I like it, so let’s get into it. Most people’s complaints about the stuff is textural anyhow. If that sounds like you, might I recommend the “extra firm” variety the next time you’re at your local grocery store.
I like to think of tofu as a malleable flavor sponge. Not the kitchen variety. Or the ocean kind. Okay, technically closer to the kitchen variety if you get down to it. Being made of soy beans, it has practically no discernible taste on its own. Which is why you can infuse it with just about any flavor you can think of. Just like rice. Look, it’s not my fault that East Asia has had it figured out for centuries. It’s flexible in terms of taste, shape, texture, whatever you set your mind to if you go about it the right way.
Mapo tofu comes from the Sichuan province of China. To those new to the Chinese cuisine game, you can think of Sichuan as shorthand for spicy whenever you hear the word come up. And not just “spicy” in the conventional sense. We’re talking more than just heat. They’ve got a whole thing figured out over there. But let’s save the specifics of that for another time.
“Mapo” is a portmanteau of mázi 麻子, meaning pockmarks, and pópo, 婆婆, meaning old woman/grandma. So the literal translation of the dish (taking tofu into account as well) is “pock-marked old woman’s bean curd.” I swear, it has to sound better in its original language. That being said, we all know that most dishes tend to have pretty off sounding names when you look at their etymology. At least here I can picture a sweet old grandma making food for the children of her community. Doesn’t that sound nice?
What granny’s dish actually entails (besides the inclusion of silken tofu) is a remarkably flavorful deep-red sauce, cooked most commonly with meat, fermented bean pastes (oh how we love those), and whatever vegetable mix-ins suit a particular regional style or personal preference. You’re going to want to see a separation of oil on the top. That glisten and grease is a visual indicator of there being some real taste at play.
When I cook it at home I have to admittedly make some cuts due to lacking all of the proper, robust ingredients. Really it’d be best to call my concoction “mock-po tofu.” I would argue that my methods come pretty close to that restaurant taste though. And if I can get that kind of elderly-infused comfort at home, I’m going to. Again, I can’t claim this as a recipe, but I just felt like I’d share what I usually do to get a pretty doable approximation.
First, I start by tossing in cut up pork sausages into a dry wok or pan (they are filled with enough fat to produce their own oil when cooked). Then I build up a base of flavor by tossing in all of my spices (chili flakes, garlic powder, ginger, cayenne). You really want to perfume up the place. Chicken stock follows, which once it mixes in with everything else pretty much gets you the base that you’re looking for. Toss in your tofu, cook it down, and you’re there. I’ll throw in some peas and scallions too to pretend that I’m getting a sufficient vegetable intake. An all-in-one dish is just so much more convenient than cooking off veggies on the side.
Put that over rice, mentally prep yourself for how much your nose is going to run and dig in.
P.S. The real, authentic Sichuan stuff will have different qualities to my at-home approximation, most notably in the form of numbing spice. Just a heads-up if you’re looking to order it for the first time!