#3. What lengths will you go for your favorite meal?
Have you ever loved someone or something that doesn’t love you back? What if, even worse, you love that person or thing unconditionally. A mother-daughter relationship is an undeniable example — a mother loves her daughter no matter what, even if she did just explode into an epic teenage temper tantrum that could scar poor mom’s soul for decades. While love is not always unconditional, it could be mutual. For example, a budding relationship between young lovers, that is until the guy turns into a deadbeat and the girl kicks him to the curb.
I myself have fallen head-over-heels in love, while believing that I would receive equal loyalty and unconditional dedication in return. I’ve built it up in my head, and even told all my friends about the relationship. However, I was apprehensive, as it became clear to me that this love may not be mutual. I worried if the build-up was too much — would my time and investment ultimately end in utter disappointment? This unrequited, apprehensive love I speak of is ‘My Tofu House’ in San Francisco, CA.
My Tofu House (MTH) does not offer much in terms of transparency. They do not have a website, or really any info online. Google describes it as an “unassuming spot for Korean fare such as specialty tofu soups, barbecue & bibimbap (but no liquor)”. Some may find the decision to provide essentially zero information to potential customers a draw. However, what drove me to this institution was certainly not the lack of information (or liquor for that matter) but rather the appeal of specialty tofu soup, better known as soondubu jjigae, or soft tofu soup.
MTH is known for their soft tofu soup: silky tofu paired with a variety of vegetables or meat, in an authentically spiced broth. In my mostly uninformed (and certainly not Korean) opinion, soft tofu soup is the kind of dish best served in-person via a piping hot stone pot, with a side of equally hot rice. Mastering the art of taking a spoon of rice and elegantly dipping it into the broth with the exact right proportion is a constant personal goal.
The experience is further enhanced by Banchan: an array of small korean dishes, typically consisting of kimchi and an assortment of seasoned and pickled vegetables. Now, being an Indian-American that grew up in Boston, a notoriously white-washed town not known for Asian food, you may wonder how in the world I came to find this wonderful dish?
During my time living in S.F. I had the privilege of being exposed to wonderful Asian food. One weekend, after wrapping up a more-disappointing-than-usual round of golf in the Sunset area, I was craving a meal to comfort my slightly damaged ego. I thought Korean food would be the perfect meal for a blustery afternoon. I hit up my Korean co-worker for a recommendation in the area (yes, I was that stereotypical person who asks their friends for restaurant recommendations based on their ethnicity). My co-worker came through like a champ and recommended My Tofu House. No questions asked, I showed up and immediately knew this was not any ordinary Korean spot. This place was a haven for soft tofu soup lovers, and MTH knew it. The delectable tofu was silkier than I ever imagined, and the banchan display was beyond what I had experienced elsewhere (including a personal fried yellow croaker). In the coming months, I found myself suffering through many unnecessary rounds of golf, mostly looking forward to a post-round feast at MTH. Remember, fellow loyalists — repetition is needed to ensure that consistency is top notch. And, I was blindly falling head over heels in love.
Not until many outings later did an uneasy feeling persist that resulted in my current state of being: apprehensive love. Despite the delicious consistency, My Tofu House does not acknowledge your loyalty, and quite frankly does not care if you love them or hate them. Put bluntly, the love is not mutual. To better understand this unnerving relationship, I’d better walk through a typical outing to MTH.
After building up the soft tofu soup for months and finally convincing your friends to take a 30 minute Uber to Outer Richmond, you enter an unassuming door directly adjacent to a Jack In The Box parking lot. You are welcomed by a crowd of people eagerly waiting to be seated. The glare you receive from these hangry customers could scare off a less intrepid diner, but you face your fears and proceed. You do your best to slide through the crowd to a clipboard nailed to a wall, like a religious totem. If you’re lucky you may get a chance to ask a passing waiter, “what’s the wait time?”. The waiter casually motions to the clipboard, and mutters “5–10 minutes”. But you know that can’t be possible when you’re 15 names down the list.
So what now? At this point, your friends may be questioning the plans, or even eyeing the specials at Jack In The Box next door, but you know a ¢99 taco won’t suffice, plus your reputation is on the line. Luckily, there’s a local dive bar across the street (emphasis on dive), where you can duck in for a quick shot and a beer. Before you know it, you’re doing mental math on whether you should order a second round, when your friend comes back to the table with giant steins of Weihenstephaner. You think there’s time, but to play it safe you sprint across the street and check on the almighty clipboard. Of course, you’re next up on the list! As the MTH waiter threatens to skip your name, you text your friends…CHUG! Five minutes later, as you anxiously protect your territory, your friends stagger through the crowd to the table, tipsy, full of beer and hungry. But, no fear, it’s time to order! Well, not exactly. Ordering at MTH can take awhile, but you continue to promise your friends that this is worth the wait, just order more Banchan! Meanwhile, deep down inside the apprehension builds. What if your friends don’t like it? Will this ruin your credibility as a loyalist? You’ve invested too much time to turn back now.
Just at that moment of near panic, pure bliss occurs and the steaming hot food arrives. The MTH Soft Tofu Soup is served at the specific spice level you ordered (in my case: “medium-hot”) along with a perfectly balanced ratio of meat/vegetables to tofu (which is melting in your mouth at first bite). Not to mention, MTH serves you a personal egg to crack directly into the molten bowl of soup. Just like a relationship that can be bumpy at times, MTH comes through when you need them most.
To be fair, I’m sure other folks out there have had similar customer experiences. Take this one Yelper for instance:
“Lol there goes my 1 hour lunch break, without actually having the lunch. Stay away and just order ahead and take it to go. What’s annoying too is that I left a tip. What I should have done is just give them a tip, a tip on how to be faster! Ugh”
At first read, this sounds like a really difficult boyfriend. But, if you read between the lines, this person is experiencing a complicated game of love. Despite the bad experience, MTH somehow lulled them into both leaving a tip, and wanting to come back for their high-quality food (even if it means taking it to-go!).
💡 LOYALIST INSIDER TIP! In addition to the wait time, there is an inevitable food coma in your near future. If you don’t mind an even deeper food coma, and can handle the extra carbs, My Insider Tip is right up your alley. On the menu are multiple options for soft tofu soup (most being various combinations of meats and vegetables), but the last item on the list is irresistible: “#9 Fried Noodle Soft Tofu”! This is essentially ramen noodles added to the soup right before serving. The soup is so hot, the noodles cook right in your stone pot. In addition to the delectable tofu, you’re eating ramen in spicy korean broth? Incredible.
After all this hassle, and an additional night to sleep off the food coma, my thoughts become clear again. Was going to such great lengths for your favorite meal worth it? And more generally, am I okay loving something unconditionally, even if it clearly doesn’t love me back? I say “Yes” to both questions. Like the love of a mother, no matter how bratty their teenager acts, I will keep coming back for more. Yes, maybe you will regret consuming as much kimchi as humanly possible (as a way to justify the subpar customer service). But that unnerving roller coaster experience is what I’ve grown to love. Every friend and family member that I’ve dragged to MTH walks away satiated and excited to have found a new favorite cuisine. In fact, I’d like to think that My Tofu House does actually love me back. Granted, it’s not the warmest, or easiest kind of love, but they show love and respect to their customers by providing delicious Korean soft tofu soup with unparalleled consistency. As much as I’d like to end with a quote from the owner, I couldn’t find one. Therefore, please take my word, and the next time you’re in S.F. make the trek out to My Tofu House to create your own laughable memories at a place that is utterly confident in its spot on The Loyal-List!
