When you want to make croutons, reaching for a block of tofu may be the last thing that comes to mind, but firm tofu makes a nice, crunchy crouton with a light, airy inside. Take an eight to ten ounce block of firm tofu and slice into half inch thick layers. Using paper or cloth towels, thoroughly dry the layers.

Cut the layers into half inch cubes.

Peel some garlic and crush/mince it. You decide how many cloves to use.

In a bowl mix the crushed garlic with 2 to 3 tablespoons of olive oil, a teaspoon or so of salt, and it you like add pepper. Add other spices if you’d like. Nothing is stopping you. You only live once, live it to the fullest.

Pour the olive oil-garlic mixture over the tofu cubed, and gently toss the tofu cubes until they are coated. Set aside for thirty minutes or so to marinate. While the tofu cubes are marinating, preheat the oven to 450ºF or 230ºC. After the oven has preheated, and about five minutes before the tofu cubes are ready for the oven, grease a 12 by 9 inch, 30 by 23 centimeter, baking pan with olive oil and heat in the oven. You want the oil in the baking pan to be hot when you put the tofu cubes on, otherwise they might stick.

Once the baking pan is hot, arrange the tofu cubes on the hot baking sheet. Be careful not to burn yourself.

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes. While baking, every five to seven minutes, turn the tofu cubes using a spatula, tongs, or chopsticks, so that all sides can brown. Remove the tofu cubes from the oven when golden brown. Place on paper towel on cooling rack. You can snack on them while hot, or cool, and use them in salads or wherever you would use croutons.

You’ll find the freshest firm tofu at Belfast Feed Store. It is never more than three days old, and delivered fresh every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, usually around 3pm. The date it is made is clearly on the label, and you’ll find a recipe under each label. How do I know this? I make and deliver it.

Take slices of firm tofu, A Man and His Hoe® tofu if you are lucky enough to get some, and using a sharp knife, carve out pockets on one side of each slice.

Make a filling. I used the carved out tofu, ground pork, grated ginger, crushed garlic, and salt. Be creative. Use your favorite spices.

Stuff the tofu pockets with the filling.

Fry the pockets in hot butter or oil for seven minutes until crispy brown, flip over and fry for another seven minutes until both sides of the pockets are nicely browned. You may need to cover the pan with a lid for part of the time to thoroughly cook the filling.

Serve immediately while piping hot.

Warning: Only make this for yourself. If you make it for your spouse, friends, or children, they will demand you make it over and over again.

Better, this bread is better than before. I made a loaf following the instructions I found in an article, Bread for Success on bon appétit’s website. I deviated from the article a bit, as the size of loaf that article made was twice the size I wanted to make. They were using nearly three pounds of flour, and I like to keep my loaves at one pound or less.

The other difference is that they use mostly regular flour whereas I use all whole wheat flour. They also used a machine to mix the dough, whereas I do the mixing by hand. I think the dough prefers to feel my hand mixing it versus a cold, steel hook. Wouldn’t you? Instead of moaning, “Ow! Ow! Ow!” the dough says, “Ahhh! Ahhh! Ahhh!” when you use your hand. When cooking, it’s important to think from the stand point of the food you are handling. How would that food like to be handled? Does it prefer to be held this way or that? Touched this way or that? You want it to thank you for being kind and gentle. After all, it’s going to become part of you.

But, wow! The bread came out so well with a nice, crunchy crust, and soft, springy inside. Which goes to show, you’re never to old to do it better.

The process takes three days,

Irizake, a dipping sauce made from sake, dried plums, fish flakes, and salt, is having a comeback in Japan. Historical references to this sauce go back to the end of the Muromachi period (1336~1573). During the Edo period (1603~1868), irizake was an indispensible seasoning. If you were to have sashimi back then, you would dipped your fish in irizake instead of 醤油 – soy sauce. In Japan, soy sauce did not become a seasoning for the masses until the middle of the Edo period, and its current form did not appear until the late 1800s when scientific understanding of fermentation combined with industrial manufacturing to enable mass production of soy sauce.

Irizake is easy to make. You first mix the sake, umeboshi, and salt together, and bring it to a boil. Once the alcohol has boiled out, you add the fish flakes and simmer until the amount of liquid has been reduced to half. Strain it, and you have irizake, a seasoning with a history of six to seven hundred years.

The very oldest versions of irizake are even simpler. The sake and umeboshi are boiled until the mixture is reduced to half. The result is strained, dried seaweed is added, and let to soak for a day or two.

• 煎り酒レシピ
• 日本の伝統調味料　煎り酒