Diced Chicken in Spicy Fermented Tofu Sauce

One day, whilst shooting the breeze with me somewhere, an ang moh acquaintance said he had a tattoo. Without any encouragement on my part, he rolled up his sleeve to show me the Chinese word on his arm. He seemed quite proud of it, and I was all prepared to 'Oooh!' appropriately (whilst running my fingers gently over his bulging biceps *wink wink*). Instead, when I saw the word he had chosen, the beer I was drinking took a detour into my lungs and up my nose. My face turned red; I thumped my chest; he thumped my back; it was a while before I could stop coughing. By then, Acquaintance probably suspected there was something wrong with his tattoo 'cause I was laughing and gesturing at it even as I choked on my drink. Indeed, there was, for the word on his arm was "腐".

"腐", for those who don't know, means decay, rot, spoil, or corrupt. Why the hell did he tattoo himself with such a word? Ah . . . . Because Acquaintance had been told the word meant eagle. Or rather, the catalogue that he'd picked the word from said so. But 'eagle' is "鹰", not "腐"! They may look similar, but the two words are worlds apart in meaning. Unfortunately, nobody at the tattoo parlour in London understood Chinese.

Grinning from ear to ear despite my watering eyes, I said, 'You know tofu? This word is the 'fu' part of "tofu".'

'I've got "tofu" tattooed on my arm?!'

'Er, no, it's just "fu", not "tofu".'

'What does "fu" mean?' It was cruel but I had to tell him. 'It doesn't make sense if "fu" means rot, because there's nothing rotten about tofu,' he said.

He had a point. Why is tofu called tofu when the 'to' (beans) aren't "fu" (rotten)?

The question bothered me for years but not anymore. I've just googled and found a plausible explanation, which is this: A long, long time ago, the Chinese called Mongolian cheese furu (腐乳), which meant spoiled milk. And then they started making curd, which resembled cheese, with soya bean milk. Hence, the curd was called tofu (豆腐), meaning spoiled beans. And then they started fermenting tofu, which turned creamy/milky as mould grew on it. So they called the fermented tofu furu, the same name which had been given to Mongolian cheese. This time, the preserved tofu did full justice to the word "腐".

Were Mongolians really making cheese even before Chinese started making beancurd, which was an awfully long time ago in 200-something BC (Han dynasty)? I don't know, but at least I have an answer next time someone asks me to explain the 'fu' part of "tofu".

I never found out whether Mr "腐" removed his tattoo, but I would if I were him. Or maybe put "豆" on the other arm, and tell everyone he loves tofu. If I see him again, I'll invite him to my place and make him some nice tofu dishes, like Spicy Diced Chicken with Fermented Tofu. I'm sure he'd love that. *wink wink*

DICED CHICKEN IN SPICY FERMENTED TOFU SAUCE (香辣腐乳鸡丁) (Recipe for 4 persons) 400 g boneless chicken leg, wash and dice 2 cm Marinade 1½ tbsp white fermented beancurd's pickling liquid ⅓ tsp salt ½ tbsp sugar 1 tbsp Shaoxing wine 1½ tbsp water Stir-fry 1 tbsp white sesame oil 1 piece ginger, half thumb size, peel, wash and slice thinly 3 cloves garlic, peel, wash and slice thinly 3 bird's eye chillies, or adjust to taste, wash, trim and slice diagonally 3 mm thick ½ tbsp spring onions (white part) cut 1 cm long 30 g white fermented beancurd, mash 1 tbsp Shaoxing wine Finishing touch 2 tbsp spring onions (green part) cut 1 cm long ¼ tsp white sesame oil Mix chicken with marinade ingredients till all liquid is absorbed. Marinate for 15 minutes or longer. In a just smoking wok, heat 1 tbsp white sesame oil till very hot. Add ginger and stir-fry over high heat till lightly golden. Add garlic, chillies and spring onions (white part). Stir-fry till garlic is also lightly golden. Add fermented beancurd and stir-fry till fragrant. Add chicken and stir-fry till wok is very hot. Drizzle with wine and stir through. Drizzle with 1 tbsp water and stir through again. Add 2 tbsp water and continue stirring – a few minutes would do – till chicken is just cooked (totally opaque and firm), and sauce is reduced and slightly thickened. Or leave sauce a bit watery if not eating within 10 minutes, because it thickens as it sits. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Turn off heat. Sprinkle with spring onions (green part). Stir through. Sprinkle with ¼ tsp sesame oil. Plate and serve immediately.

Five-Spice Beancurd Skin – Best Ever Tau Kee

'Go for it! It's free!' the HR manager said.

The word 'free' reverberated through my head. If I were a cartoon figure, my eyes would have popped out. The HR manager was giving me the ultimatum for the medical check-up under company expense: use it or lose it, by year-end. So I used it, the first ever medical exam in my life.

I did the check-up towards the end of the year, when I was home for the festive season whilst working overseas. Inbetween the endless rounds of eating, drinking and shopping, I managed to find time to see my doctor. The various tests took half a day or so, and I just gritted my teeth and went through all of them. Except the one which involved the doctor wearing gloves. Eww! No, thank you!

On Christmas eve, I woke up just before noon – exhausted from the eating, drinking, shopping plus jet lag – to find five missed calls from my doctor. I called the clinic and caught the doctor's assistant just before she went home for Christmas. 'There are shadows in your lung x-rays!' She sounded panic-stricken, which I thought was quite strange. Wasn't she used to delivering bad news since she was working in a clinic? Please don't scare me!

When I saw my doctor after Christmas, she calmly but gravely told me I had to consult a specialist. So I trotted off to the specialist she picked, who sent me trotting off to do a CT-scan. With the scan in hand on New Year's Eve, he said, 'You have only one kidney.'

Huh? What? I wasn't expecting anything wrong with my kidneys! 'What do you mean I have only one kidney? Where's the other one? You mean it's shrunken?' Obviously, 'one kidney' meant one kidney rather than one normal plus one shrunken kidney but I was, you know, in a state of shock, jet lagged and hung over from Christmas.

The doctor confirmed that 'one' meant one, then moved on to the more important stuff. The kidney I was born without was just a by-the-way digression. What worried him were the lungs, which had three possible diagnoses: sarcoidosis, tuberculosis, and lymphoma.

He explained that sarcoidosis, an infection of the lungs which usually had no symptoms and required no treatment, was unlikely because it mostly affected darker skinned people like Indians and Africans. He also ruled out tuberculosis.

I felt like someone had just kicked me in the stomach. 'How do you know it's not TB?' I asked after taking a deep breath.

'Experience. It doesn't look like TB,' said the expert in cardiothoracic stuff, who was also an associate professor. Of the three lovely possibilities, he reckoned I had lymphoma, cancer of the lymph nodes.

Lymphoma – gulp! Wasn't that what Lee Hsien Loong had? CANCER?! Oh sh¡t! Sh¡t!! Sh¡t!!!

The next step was to confirm the diagnosis with a biopsy. So I trotted off to the appointments counter, which told me the first working day in the new year was available. Wow, 2 January! The whole thing was hurtling along way too fast! Between Christmas and New Year, I saw my GP, did a CT scan, got the results, consulted a specialist, who said he was damn sure I had cancer . . . . Followed by a biopsy on 2 January, the eve of my birthday? Do I really want to do a biopsy the day before my birthday? Well, it was either that, my birthday or 7 January.

'Ok, I'll take 2 January.' I wanted to know, asap. It was good I took the first date available because after I walked out of the hospital, my entire world ground to a halt. I was in a daze whilst I waited for the surgeon's knife. I went to all the year-end get-togethers but they were meaningless. It would have been easier if I had told everyone I was having a biopsy after the holidays but I didn't want to spoil the party mood.

On 2 January, I checked into the hospital for my first ever surgery, all by my little self. Just before I passed out in the operating theatre, the surgeon popped round and said, 'Happy New Year!' Great sense of humour, eh? What could be happier than starting the new year with an operation? And if anything happened to me on the operating table, at least I was in the hands of a surgeon who was funny!

After the surgery, I was crying as I came out of the anaesthesia. It was a funny feeling, crying before I was fully conscious. I didn't even know that was possible. I guess I was more scared than I was willing to admit. The rest of the day was spent resting, begging the nurse for a cream cracker, and rehearsing how I was going to drop the bombshell on everyone. I fell asleep that night practising 'I have cancer/lymphoma!' in various tones, from downcast to upbeat, matter-of-fact, businesslike and various combinations of these possibilities. I thought 50% upbeat, 40% matter-of-fact and 10% downcast was a good, realistic balance.

The morning after – D-day! I got up bright and early to wait for the doctor, who came around half past seven. As he flipped through some papers which presumably contained the biopsy results, I almost stopped breathing. Out of the three possible diagnoses, he said, I had – drumroll please! – sarcoidosis! Phew! I was gunning for the consolation prize, TB, but I got the jackpot instead! I wish it was more dramatic but that was it. After all the hand wringing, it was over in two seconds. I didn't have cancer. I had an infection in the lungs which, if I hadn't gone for a medical check-up because it was free, would have been undetected.

Needless to say, after the emotional 10-day roller-coaster ride, I had the mother of all birthday celebrations. After that, I went on a massive shopping spree and maxed out two credit cards, the first and only time ever. I had a great time looking for necklaces to cover the surgery scar between my collar bones. I still have the necklaces but the scar is barely visible now, even when I look for it.

A couple of years after the cancer fiasco, I asked the specialist for a medical report because I was buying medical insurance. He sent me something that roughly said, 'Blah blah blah sarcoidosis was suspected, and confirmed after a biopsy.' What the hell! There was no mention at all of lymphoma, and the torment he had put me through! I know the details were irrelevant for the purpose of the report but still!

And where did the dish of beancurd skin or tau kee come in? That was what the hospital served for lunch while I waited for the check-out. It was the best meal in my whole life, bar none!

One last thing: Mom, Dad, if you're somehow reading this from up there (or down there, whatever the case might be) . . . .

YOU LEFT OUT ONE KIDNEY! HOW COULD YOU?!

FIVE-SPICE BEANCURD SKIN (五香腐竹) (For 4 persons) 4 dried beancurd sticks (tau kee, 腐竹) 2 tbsp oyster sauce 2 tbsp light soya sauce 2 tsp dark soya sauce 1 tbsp Shaoxing wine 1/2 tsp sugar 1 tsp five-spice powder 3 cloves garlic, washed and smashed 3 thin slices ginger Break tau kee into small pieces 7-8 cm long. Deep-fry in hot oil till golden brown and puffed. Place deep-fried beancurd skin and all other ingredients in a pot. Add enough water or stock to almost cover all ingredients. Bring to a boil. Simmer, covered, for 40 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning if necessary. Serve with steamed rice.

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Hakka Yong Tau Foo

What makes Hakka yong tau foo Hakka?

It's the pork. Hakka yong tau foo is always made with minced pork, not fish.

It's also the salted fish, added to give the minced pork a salty fragrance.

Yong tau foo may be cooked in the broth, or deep-fried or pan-fried.

YTF may be served in a broth, or drizzled with chilli sauce and sweet sauce. A gravy made with oyster sauce and a good, strong stock is a good option too.

Eaten with rice or noodles, YTF can be a complete meal. Of course, it can still be a complete meal sans carb.

I love YTF very much whether it's made with pork or fish. I don't mind if it sits in a broth, sauce or gravy. I like it best with bee hoon but don't mind rice or other types of noodle. Anything would do so long as the YTF isn't factory made.

HAKKA YONG TAU FOO (客家釀豆腐) (Recipe for 32 pieces) 500 g chicken breast, rinse and blanch in boiling water 40 g dried anchovies, without heads and bones, rinse 70 g dried soya beans, rinse 4 pieces tau pok ½ bitter gourd, about 12 cm long 8 red chillies 4 small pieces firm beancurd (450 g), slice diagonally into 2 pieces 400 g minced pork 20 g salted mackerel, pan-fry till brown and mince finely to yield 2 rounded tbsp – replace with deep-fried sliced shallots and 1 tsp light soya sauce if not available 4 tsp light soya sauce 1/8 tsp ground white pepper ½ tbsp cornflour, plus more for dusting 2 tsp white sesame oil oil for pan-frying 250 g xiao bai cai (bok choy), rinsed and cut bite size 200 g dried rice vermicelli, soaked till soft To make stock, place chicken, anchovies and soya beans in 2.5 litres boiling water. Bring back to a boil. Reduce heat to very low. Simmer gently, covered, for 2 hours. Strain to get a clear soup. Blanch beancurd puffs in boiling water to remove excess oil. Squeeze dry. Rinse, then squeeze dry again. Cook in simmering stock till almost soft, about 30 minutes. Remove and squeeze dry. When cool enough to handle, slice diagonally into 2 pieces. To fill with minced pork, make a pocket by separating cut side with fingers. Rinse bitter gourd. Cut into rings 1.5 cm thick. Remove pulp and seeds. Dust inside ring with corn flour just before filling. Slit chillies lengthwise. Remove seeds without breaking chillies. Rinse. Dust inside with corn flour just before filling. Rinse beancurd. Cut each piece into 2 halves diagonally. Make slit in cut side without cutting through. To prepare filling, place pork in a big bowl. Grab with one hand and slap back into bowl. Repeat till pork is sticky, about 5 minutes. Add soya sauce, white pepper, salted fish and sesame oil. Mix till even. Fill bitter gourd, beancurd, chillies and beancurd puffs with about 1 tbsp pork each. Smooth top of filling with back of spoon, smearing edges a bit (which helps the filling stick better). Pan-fry bitter gourd, beancurd and chillies over high heat till browned. Or you could leave 'em unfried, or have have a mix. To serve, simmer beancurd puffs and unfried bitter gourd in the stock till soft, about 10 minutes. Add xiao bai cai, beancurd, chillies, fried bitter gourd and noodles if using. Taste and add salt or light soya sauce if necessary. Bring everything back to a boil. Add some deep-fried shallots, garlic, spring onions or dash of white pepper just before serving.