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"Now is the time to watch carefully," says Youji Iwakura, chef at Uni sashimi bar in Boston's Back Bay. "This is only going to take about two seconds." He quickly adds 2 drops of nigari to the pan of swirling soy milk in front of him. The change is rapid but subtle, as the freely splashing liquid transforms into a slightly quivering mass. He immediately covers the whole thing in plastic wrap, which balloons out with steam.

From my previous posts, it should be readily apparent that I'm an omnivore with slight meatatarian tendencies in nature. But if there's one food that could rival pork belly on the top of my deliciousness list, it would be tofu, oddly enough.


Tofu proponents (at least outside of the far East), have a rough time making converts. The common misconception that tofu is meant to be a substitute for meat leads many meat eaters to dismiss it out of hand, and the cryovacked packages of spongy, mass-produced blocks and after-thought status on menus doesn't help its case.

Today, Youji takes us step-by-step through a sure way to win converts: make it yourself. All it takes is two ingredients, and about ten minutes of time.

Ingredients:
- About a quart of the very best soy milk you can get. Unflavored. Organic store-bought is good, fresh made yourself is easy, and even better.
- A couple of drops of nigari - magnesium chloride that's produced by evaporating sea water. You can order this online, or buy it in a Japanese market. Just so you know, a pound of this stuff will make about 250 pounds of tofu, so you're not going to need much

With an ingredient list this short, having high quality soy milk is paramount to your success. You can't make a great burger with bad meat, and you can't make great tofu with bad soy milk.

First, you want to heat your soy milk to around 67-68 degrees Celsius (around 153 degrees Fahrenheit). "It's important to keep stirring," advises Youji, "or milk will burn, and tofu will get a bitter flavor." Listen to the man. Using no more than a moderate flame will help with this.
I recommend a thermometer, but if you don't have one, 153 degrees is just about the point where a normal person can stick their hand in the pot and it hurts, but doesn't leave a mark.

Once your soy milk has reached the too-hot-to-handle stage, immediately transfer it to a cool square container just big enough to hold it.
Youji insists that the use of a square container is essential in traditional tofu-making. Ah, ancient Japanese traditions. Perfect, I'm thinking.

Nope. "Swirling in a circular pan makes one smooth flowing vortex. Swirling in a square container creates a much more irregular flow. It gets mixed up better," is Youji's unromantic explanation. Fair enough.

As you keep stirring, trying to be as irregular in your flow as possible, dump in your few drops of nigari. Stir for about 2 seconds longer, then pull out immediately.

Resist the temptation to poke it or shake it, and instead, cover immediately with plastic wrap, put it in the corner, and go dangle a string in front of your cat for ten minutes. Now would also be a good time to text all your friends to immediately come over for a life-changing experience. Or at least an evening-altering experience.



If you were Youji, this would be the time that excitement becomes visible on your face. Here's a man who's clearly passionate about his coagulated soy bean juice.

Retrieve your square pan from it's corner resting space, and pull back a corner of the plastic. If all went well, you should see a mottled, watery surface, underneath which is the barely set, still warm, freshly made tofu.
Do not, under any circumstances, discard the milky liquid and creamy coagulated bits on the top. Like the cream on top of the yogurt, the oysters of a chicken, or the cheeks off a fresh cod, this is the aficionado's pride and joy - the ugly best bits that the cook has first shot at.

Take advantage.

Nothing goes better with freshly coagulated soy beans than old fermented soy beans, so I recommend eating immediately with just a splash of soy sauce. If you've only ever had packaged tofu before, the warm, ultra-smooth, custard-like texture should come as quite a pleasant shock to you.

If you like your tofu a little firmer, place a clean towel on top of the milk as it's coagulating. The towel will absorb excess moisture and slightly compress the tofu as it forms. Like it harder still? Wrap that block up in cheesecloth, hang it, and let it drain for a few hours.

Fresh tofu, Youji-style:

Warm tofu, with a little bit of the hair of the dog: the hot, nigari-laced soy milk leftover in the pan. Spoon into a bamboo bowl lined with autumn leaves (season-based presentations are very important in Japanese cuisine). Garnish with a few sliced chives and basil blossoms. Done.

"ASAP," explains Youji. "Simple is the new soon. As Simple As Possible. That's how it should be served."

Want a little bit more from your tofu? Well, it's custard-like texture and clean flavor make it the perfect backdrop for a few pieces of uni. The roe of the sea urchins, hand-harvested in California and Maine, can be found in Japanese sashimi markets ready-to-eat (If you live in Boston, try Kotobukiya, in the Porter Exchange building, Porter Square), or occasionally, when in season, live and in the shell.

It's ultra-briny, with a fresh ocean flavor and just a hint of metallic iodine. They're also my mom's favorite food.

Youji takes the roe and gives it a gentle bath in warm dashi (a japanese broth made from sea kelp and dried smoked bonito) sweetened with mirin (sweet japanese wine), and a dash of soy sauce.

The uni and tofu gently melt into one as they hit your mouth. It's like taking a swig of fresh sea water, which I always thought was an odd and overused descriptor. Who would want to take a swig of seawater anyway?

Well, take my word. This is the best ocean you've ever tasted.

Want to try Youji's work for yourself?

The organic tofu is available pretty much every night after 5:30 for around $16 at Uni. Corner of Commonwealth and Mass Ave in Boston's Back Bay. Check it out.

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