Moscow Food Co-op Recipes

Tofu In A SoyNutshell:
Tofu, Mirrors, and Solstice Gratitude

by Rachel Clark Caudill, from the June 2006 newsletter

June. The month when days are longest, when we soak up the delicious, intense, sometimes crushing sunshine of northern Idaho. Or not. Maybe June will bring snow, cold, or even ice.

Moscow’s weather teaches me to live in acceptance. Toss in global warming (not to mention all the other sad truths of human impact on the planet and one another), and the spiritual quest to live in acceptance gets tricky, sticky, difficult. I write from the week in May when we soared from the 60s to the 90s overnight, and I’m wondering just how quickly the climate change switch could shift us into a place where acceptance becomes close to impossible.

Just what does it mean to be in acceptance when the world is changing at our touch? Can I be in acceptance and want to heal the world at the same time? I think I can, said the little engine that could. And look what she did. Was she in acceptance?

Still, even in the face of perilous changes to the planet, I am secure in the solstice. I can be grounded in knowing the earth—until our solar system’s dying days—will spin itself around the sun, tilting and swirling, flung around and around by gravity. In its eternal dance, the earth will curtsy and bow to the Sun at each solstice. And I will celebrate the knowing that the Sun is here, offering its abundance, only to turn away from us as we journey toward the dark again.

And in that grounding I root myself in the abundance of both light and dark, of sunshine and black night. Even the blackest night holds an infinity of stars and the cold, ripe moon behind clouds of ink. Even the blackest night may bequeath the beauty of the northern lights, if we are awake to see them.

If you have read my column at all, you know by now that I use tofu as an excuse to write about what is alive for me. And tofu is good for that. It is light, energetic, alive with the abundance of sunlight that once radiated through green soy bean cells, calling them to action. Grow, it told them. Grow. Nourish yourselves with my radiance. Surely, this is an example of acceptance and action. The cells live in acceptance. Whatever is...is. Whatever will be, will be. Que Sera, Sera.

And yet…and yet. The cells act. In one of the most profound, miraculous, stupefying acts of the universe, those microscopic cells take radiant sunlight, and turn it into food. They live on radiance.

I live on radiance. I am alive—my body, my mind, my emotions, my heart, my love, my relationships, my yearnings, my mournings—because of the blessings of the Sun. The Sun connects me to you, my beloved children, my irreplaceable husband, the rest of my dear family, my friends (alive and departed, I tell myself), my community, and yes, to my so-called enemies. We are all sunlight manifested into brilliant, radiant human beings; mirrors for each other in which we can see ourselves. The flash of brilliance of our lives—of all life—sometimes tears me to pieces with its divinity, grace, and awe.

I think I can, she said. I think I can. Acceptance and action. My cells pulse with acceptance and with action. With being, and with doing. The solstice opens, beckons with its long, long drape of sunshine. It is time to act. And to be.

I think I can.

Radiant Solstice Tofu with Watercress and Lemon
I went searching the Web for a tofu recipe lively enough to hold my craving to celebrate the summer solstice in a way that is decadent, delicious, and that reminds me of the sheer wonder of universal abundance. I have adapted this bright, lemony, and summer-soaked recipe for “Pan-fried tofu & watercress w/ lemon sauce” from the folks at: www.care2.com.

One block extra-firm tofu, drained and cut into 1/4-inch-thick slices
Salt and freshly-ground black pepper
2 tablespoons olive oil (canola works fine, too)
1/4 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons capers, drained and chopped
1 large garlic clove, minced
2 bunches watercress, tough stems removed

1. Pat the tofu dry, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Set aside.
2. Heat about a tablespoon of the oil in a large pan or skillet over medium-high heat. Add the tofu and cook until golden-brown on both sides, 2 to 4 minutes per side. Add the wine, lemon juice, and capers and simmer until the sauce is slightly reduced, about 2 minutes. Reduce the heat to low and keep warm.
3. Heat the remaining oil in a large pan or skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic and cook about 30 seconds. Add the watercress and cook, stirring, until just wilted, 2 to 3 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.
4. Transfer the watercress to a serving platter or 4 individual plates and arrange the tofu on top. Drizzle the sauce over the tofu and serve hot.

On the side:
Arborio rice with lemon and mushrooms comes to mind. Or couscous. Or, if you want the simple energy of ease and gentleness, prepare a nice batch of brown rice.

Copyright: Copyright on articles, recipes, and images are jointly held by the Moscow Food Co-op and the respective authors, except were otherwise noted.

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