When I sent out my last newsletter, just a few days before the US presidential elections, I remember feeling like I’d somehow managed to scrape by 2020 relatively unscathed, and maybe that should’ve tipped me off for what was about to come, like an overconfident reality show contestant saying, “Nothing can go wrong,” in a confessional right before she gets voted off the island. (I still really miss Survivor.)
On the evening of November 2nd, just a couple of hours before bed, I reached into the drawer of my bedside table to retrieve my passport. I was planning on sending it to an agent the next day to renew my visa, which was going to expire in 10 days. As I was pulling it out, it immediately became clear that something terrible had happened.
Somehow, some time between putting it away two months prior and taking it out, what can only be described as a pestilence had managed to descend on my bedside table and devour every page of my passport. The only thing I can compare it to is that scene in The Lost Boys when Jason Patric’s eating rice from a Chinese takeout container and it suddenly turns into maggots. I say this not only because it reminded me of that scene but because, for a split second, I actually thought that maggots had infested my passport. If you’ve never seen a swarm of termites, it would be easy to confuse the two is all I’m saying. (Apologies for that mental image.) And just like that scene, the entire ordeal has been permanently seared into my brain for years to come.
I don’t think I’ve ever actually pinched myself to try and wake myself up until that moment. I always thought that that was something people only did in movies. Of course, the pinching did nothing but make my arm hurt and the situation even more sobering. It felt like a cruel joke. On the other side of the bed, my boyfriend’s bedside table and its contents remained in pristine, unadulterated condition. Had I kept my passport literally anywhere else in the apartment, it would’ve been fine. (Later on, we discovered the hole the termites had made behind my bedside table.)
For days after, I had a searing migraine that wouldn’t go away. It took a couple of weeks to shake me out of the shock, another five to get a replacement passport, and another month after that before my visa anxieties would finally come to an end.
This is also my long-winded explanation for my extended absence. The whole situation left me on edge and made it hard to concentrate on anything else. But now that it’s all over, it feels really good to able to talk about it without having a full-blown panic attack. And even then, compared to the awfulness that was 2020, I still think I got off easy.
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Now onto this week’s recipe. Hopefully, it’ll help scrub whatever images the previous paragraphs seared into both of our brains.
A confession: I love canned food. Or loved. When I still ate meat, (I still eat fish every now and then, which I know is still technically meat, but have not consumed any land-dwelling animals in almost four years) my idea of an ideal breakfast involved some kind of canned meat (like spam, Vienna sausages, or corned beef), eggs, and sinangag (garlic fried rice). Like so many aspects of Filipino culture and cuisine, canned food came by way of colonialism and became a staple in kitchens across the country, fusing itself into our culinary DNA in the same way you still see a lot of spam and processed meats in South Korean and Hawaiian dishes.
But as much as I long for it, for a variety of reasons, canned meat will continue to remain a vestige of past pleasures. So instead, I’ve tried my best to approximate, both the flavors and feelings it evoked, in a meat-free version. And I think I’ve managed to do that with my recipe for tofu spam.
If you think about it, spam is basically meat tofu. Texture-wise, they’re almost identical. You cook them both pretty much the same way. They’re both very versatile and they both come in homogenous blocks. Oh, and most people don’t really understand how either of them is made.
Some notes:
Most tofu spam recipes use liquid smoke and until this recipe, so did I. Then I realized that the smokiness from the smoked paprika was enough. It’s not non-negotiable, but it adds a nice smokiness that enhances the tofu’s meatiness.
The mushroom powder really is the star of this marinade. If you’ve never used it before, it’s such a good thing to have in your pantry to make soups and stir-fries with. It lends a nice meaty umami to whatever you add it to. It also makes a killer base for vegan ramen.
While frying, top one side with a bit of sugar before flipping to create the kind of craggy sugar-crusted spam that every Filipino kid in the 90s ate for breakfast/merienda. Eat with a bowl of sinangag and, if you eat them, a fried or scrambled egg.
Tofu Spam
300-gram block of tofu, cut into six planks
1 tbsp mushroom powder (this is the one I used)
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp onion powder
1 tsp sugar
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
1/2 tsp salt
2 tbsp water
1 tbsp neutral oil
(This makes a pretty garlicky tofu spam. If you want a smokier one, switch the proportions for garlic and smoked paprika.)
Directions:
Cut the block of tofu into six planks and lay them out on a cutting board. With a paper towel or kitchen towel, try to remove as much liquid as you can from each plank.
Mix all ingredients together in a bowl except the oil. Let the water dissolve all the spices/sugar until it’s a nice loose mixture, then add the oil and mix until emulsified.
Place the tofu in a container and pour the marinade over, making sure all pieces have been coated on both sides. Marinate for at least 24 hours.
After 24 hours or more, remove the tofu from the marinade and fry the planks in a few tablespoons of neutral oil till brown and crusty on both sides.
It’s great in sandwiches, as a spam musubi-like snack, or eaten in a classic Filipino silog breakfast.
As always, thanks for reading. Work has gotten a lot more manageable so I’m committing to bi-monthly newsletters from here on out. Hope you’ll stick around.
Really appreciating the attention to spam can shape detail.