Buffalo Tofu Wrap

Portland summer. The dry heat. The shiso head-high. Sunday farmers market. Tomatoes, shiso, kabocha when in season, mushrooms in fall. The shopping list is short and exact.

Miya, 9, can shape onigiri without falling apart. She uses wet hands. She knows the order without being told. Barbara called Sunday. We talked for twenty minutes. She told me about the play she is directing. I told her about the kitchen.

Rice bowls all week. Different toppings each night. The rice cooker the small steady engine.

I made dashi at five. The day began.

Miya's old room is now my office. The desk is by the window. The shiso outside. The newsletter in progress. The afternoons are quiet.

Miya is in elementary school. The Saturday Japanese school continues. She still complains. She is still going.

A panic flicker Tuesday evening, brief, manageable. I breathed. I drank water. I went outside and walked around the block. The flicker passed. The body did its work.

Tomi watered the garden Saturday morning. The shiso was head-high. The shishito peppers were producing. The kabocha was running on the fence.

I wrote at the kitchen table from six to eight. The newsletter was forming. The opening sentence was the hard sentence — they always are. I rewrote it five times. The fifth time was the right time.

Coffee with a friend Saturday morning. We talked about books, about kids, about the way our forties became our fifties. The talking is the thing.

I read for an hour Sunday night. A book of essays by a Korean-American writer about food and grief. I underlined a paragraph that said exactly what I had been trying to say in the newsletter for months.

Yoga Tuesday morning. The studio in Sellwood. Eight students. The class was the class.

The cat was the cat. Mochi at fifteen sleeps most of the day. She still eats with enthusiasm. She still sits at the kitchen window watching the back garden.

Sunday farmers market in the rain. The vendors knew me. The Hood River apple stand had honeycrisps. I bought four pounds.

The neighbor's dog barked at nothing for twenty minutes Sunday afternoon. The neighbor apologized. I told him I had been writing through it and the white noise was helpful. He laughed.

A reader sent me a handwritten card this week. Her grandmother had cooked Japanese food in 1970s Boise. She had felt alone in it. The newsletter, she wrote, made her feel less alone. I taped the card to the wall above my desk.

I made onigiri for tomorrow's lunch. Three triangles. Salted plum in the center. Wrapped in nori. The cling wrap. The drawer where I keep them. The system.

Made dashi at five-thirty AM. Ten minutes in the kitchen alone with the kombu and the bonito flakes. The day's first prayer.

Therapy Tuesday. We talked about the wedding. We talked about Barbara. We talked about Fumiko. The hour passed. The work continues.

The rain in long sheets Tuesday afternoon. I made tea. I watched it from the porch. The cottonwoods on the next block were silver in the wet.

I drove to Uwajimaya Wednesday. Kombu, bonito flakes, white miso, a small bag of mochiko for tomorrow's project. The store smells like home.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. Wiped the counters. Reorganized the drawer where the chopsticks live. Sharpened the knife. The reset was the reset.

I texted Miya a photo of the shiso. She texted back a heart and a single word: home.

The rice cooker carried us through most of the week, and I was glad for it — but on Tuesday, Miya asked for something wrapped and handheld, and I had a block of extra-firm tofu in the refrigerator that needed using. This buffalo tofu wrap has become the answer to that particular request: a little heat, a little crunch, something you can eat standing at the counter before the evening unspools. It takes less than forty minutes, which matters on the days when the newsletter ran long and the therapy hour was full. I use whatever greens I have. I don’t fuss over it.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 4

Ingredients

1 block (14 oz) extra-firm tofu, pressed and cut into 3/4-inch cubes
3 tablespoons buffalo hot sauce (such as Frank’s RedHot)
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder
1/4 teaspoon smoked paprika
4 large flour tortillas (10-inch)
2 cups romaine lettuce, chopped
1/2 cup shredded carrots
2 stalks celery, thinly sliced
1/4 cup ranch or blue cheese dressing
Salt and black pepper to taste

Instructions

Press the tofu. Wrap the tofu block in a clean kitchen towel or paper towels and press firmly for at least 10 minutes to remove excess moisture. Cut into 3/4-inch cubes.
Coat the tofu. In a large bowl, toss the tofu cubes with olive oil, cornstarch, garlic powder, smoked paprika, and a pinch of salt until evenly coated.
Bake until crispy. Preheat oven to 425°F. Arrange tofu in a single layer on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake for 22–25 minutes, flipping once halfway through, until golden and crisp at the edges.
Toss with buffalo sauce. Transfer the hot tofu to a bowl and pour the buffalo sauce over it. Toss gently to coat each piece evenly.
Warm the tortillas. Heat each tortilla in a dry skillet over medium heat for about 30 seconds per side, or wrap them in a damp paper towel and microwave for 20 seconds.
Assemble the wraps. Lay each tortilla flat and spread about 1 tablespoon of dressing down the center. Layer on romaine, shredded carrots, and celery. Add a generous portion of buffalo tofu.
Wrap and serve. Fold in the sides of the tortilla, then roll snugly from the bottom. Slice in half on the diagonal. Serve immediately, with extra buffalo sauce or dressing on the side if desired.

Nutrition (per serving)

Buffalo Tofu Wrap — The Weeknight Dinner Miya Asked For