Accidental Vegetarian (or My Ode to Tofu)

I've been living as a vegetarian for the past few days by accident. It just so happens that I haven't eaten meat or fish, and if I didn't need milk with my cereal, I'd be an accidental vegan. At any rate, I don't feel any different or healthier (yeah, it's only been a few days). I've been on this tofu-kick.

I must say, I love tofu. I love it bobbing in my miso soup, gooey in my soon doo boo jigae, glistening under a heat lamp at a Chinese buffet, or just sitting cold and wet in its refridgerated plastic container. I loved it before it became famous for its health benefits, before it became a part of the health craze. When my mom would make her stew for dinner, I'd sort through the veggies and the beef with my chopsticks and go straight for those delicious white squares.

I know people shun tofu in its meat-ified state, e.g., tofurky and tofu-burgers. Why not appreciate it for what it is, rather than making it into something it isn't? As a tofu-lover, I'll be the first to admit that tofu will never taste like a buttery slice of turkey or a juicy steak. Never. And perhaps that's part of why some people think it's disgusting. Perhaps if people tried cuisine that accepted tofu for what it was, that celebrated those little squares of soybean goodness, they'd love it as I do. And oh, I do.