Smoked Tofu, Red Pepper and Avocado Wrapped in Iceberg

(Vegan, Gluten-free — and “Vegetary”)

I’ve spent a bit of time in the hospital recently and the food is nothing to write about.

First, since I know you’re wondering (and since some of you will go right ahead and ask): No.  It was nothing serious. I have a heart arrhythmia that’s as vexing as the Butterfly Effect.  As in, you might have your suspicions but just try to demonstrate that a butterfly wrecked your house with a tornado. And go ahead and try to control that butterfly. Same laws (lack of) apply here.  Since it requires a trip to the ER each time it happens, plus a good pounding with the cardioversion paddles, and since the ER tends to admit me for a night, it’s an inconvenience of the highest order – but, they promise me, nothing that will kill me (at least not right away). And I’ve been elevated to the status of a case study — but I suspect that was just some twisted consolation.

I can see that you’re also wondering whether this is the reason I’ve become a deadbeat here in the last couple of months. It would be the perfect crutch for me to hobble along on, wouldn’t it? You’d never question me. So….oh… no. I’m just a deadbeat.

But back to the hospital. It’s a dimension all its own, existing between the worlds, beyond the bounds of space and time. Time, elusive as it is, becomes an even more abstract concept, and the present becomes perpetual. Even in the hospital, I’m somehow incapable of watching TV, so, after exhausting all the student essays I’d brought for grading (by the way, that’s the real reason I’ve been absent here), and all the magazines I’d brought for reading, my attention inevitably drifted to the patterns on the ceiling. Their entertainment value was nil.

The only thing that inspired a sense of motion was the regular sound of the dinner cart squeaking down the hall. That dinner cart delivered hope: hope that this, too, should pass, that night would fade into day and that day would see the door latch thrown open.  Hope, too, that the meal would be a satisfying diversion until then.

Let me tell you dear readers, hospital food really is as bad as they say.

I know it sounds like I am, but I’m not exactly complaining. Here’s the thing: multiply the beds on my floor (32: I counted.  Twice) by the number of floors (at least 10), plus all the people in the ER who also occasionally get fed. Add the folks recovering from outpatient procedures. And the less picky of the dogs in the alley. The food they serve must offend no one and be edible to most – while harming none. The food, then, had to be reduced to the finest fraction of a common denominator: white rolls.  Turkey gravy. Fruit salad from a can. Mashed potatoes.

It all had about as much culinary interest as a cocktail gherkin – and none of the salt.

I didn’t make it any easier. As a vegetarian (or “vegetary” as Dietary Services bemusedly referred to me), I might as well have been a Romulan. I dared not introduce the notion of pescetarianism. But they took it in stride and took my order, meal after meal, delivering exactly what I asked for, right down to the number of cups of (bad) coffee I’d requested. So what if the veggies might have once been fresh but had been cooked to the consistency of baby food? So what if flavor was anathema and spice was verboten? And what if everything on the plate had to accommodate the toothless? The dietary staff was  persistently cheerful, organized, and obliging. It was because of the people serving the food that I got through it without losing my sense of humor, my empathy – or my culinary compass.

It eased the pain somewhat too, that one of my doctors, brilliant in the ways of cardiac electrophysiology and food, and a self-proclaimed food snob like me, was sympathetic to my plight. He suggested that I write about the food. And so I am.

And it wasn’t all bad…
Because here’s what surprised me: Iceberg Lettuce. Meal after meal, it was the one thing they felt fairly confident serving up to a vegetary, this Hershey’s (or worse, the Cool Whip) of the produce aisle.

Do you remember when all lettuce was Iceberg lettuce?  Perhaps it was all nostalgia then, my childhood rushing back with each bite, because I found it to be incredibly… refreshing. How I had forgotten! The translucent, frosty, ribs were the one thing I could count on on that tray to be cold, crunchy, and full of moisture.

Was it synchronicity or fate then, when, as I sat in my hospital-issue gown and munched away at the lettuce, mindlessly paging through the latest issue of Saveur, I landed upon an article about the resurgence of the Ice Queen?  Or when, on my first night of freedom, Simon picked up a Caesar salad from our favorite Italian bistro – and I beheld chunks of crispy Iceberg nestled in among the greens? Is it the economy, or is this common vegetary reestablishing a place for itself in our cuisine?

Either way, I wanted to give it another go when I got home.  I’ll admit that Simon snickered when he saw me load it into my grocery basket. I’ll also admit that in my favorite episode of Jamie at Home, Oliver dumps the stuff in the garbage and later bats entire heads of Iceberg clear across his garden. But it’s crisp and holds its shape, it’s mild and easygoing, and it works really well with Asian food. Like this:

Smoked Tofu, Red Pepper and Avocado Wrapped in Iceberg

I’m going to share an ancient Chinese secret: Lingham’s Chili Sauce. Available at most international grocery stores, this stuff has become a staple in my Asian cooking.  Hot, sweet, and acidic, this is not hospital food. In fact, it just might open your sinuses enough to keep you out of the hospital. If you can’t take the heat though, you can dumb it down with extra lime juice and soy sauce.

The other big flavor secret here is the outdoor cooking. We have a smoker, but a regular grill works just fine as well. And if you’re going to all that trouble, throw on some other stuff while you’re at it (like asparagus and apples but, note, not avocado. It just doesn’t work on a fire grill).

The recipe:
1 package extra-firm tofu, pressed
1 red bell pepper
1 avocado, sliced into strips
½ cup Lingham’s Chili Sauce
juice of 1 lime
1 generous tablespoon fresh ginger
¼ cup soy sauce (I use low-sodium)
3 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon minced fresh cilantro
1 tablespoon minced fresh mint
1 head of Iceberg lettuce, chilled and sliced into large leaves (about 8 cups)

Combine the Lingham’s, lime juice, ginger, soy sauce and garlic in a bowl or container with a tight-fitting lid. After tofu has been pressed, slice it into long strips. Marinate it in the chili sauce for at least 30 minutes (or overnight if you’re planning ahead).

Core and slice the bell pepper into quarters. When the grill has reached the right temperature, cook the tofu and the bell pepper until blackened.

Cut the grilled tofu and bell peppers into bite-sized strips. Place a generous spoonful into each lettuce cup. Add slices of avocado, and sprinkle with cilantro and mint. Drizzle each cup with the leftover chili sauce, and serve.