Healthy Living Club

Soft

You have to have a light touch to keep cubes of soft tofu from turning into crumbles. The tender bean curd is great for scrambles or as a substitute for ricotta cheese. Pureed, it has the consistency of sour cream and can be used to replace eggs in baked goods (three-fourths of a cup per egg).

Silken

A coagulant distinguishes this tofu from soft. With a custardlike, melt-in-your-mouth texture, silken tofu can add protein to smoothies and make creamy puddings and dips.

Extrafirm

This dense, sturdy block is the highest in protein, fat, and calcium per serving because it’s had more moisture pressed out. It holds its shape when sliced or diced, so extrafirm is the best type of tofu to use for sauteeing, grilling, and baking.

Firm

Look no further for a nondairy cheese substitute. Firm tofu marinated in your favorite salad dressing makes a great sandwich or casserole filling. Cubes of firm tofu work well in stir-fries, too.

If you like your humor black, straight up, with no sugar (think Thomas Pynchon, Joseph Heller, Terry Southern, and the late, great Kurt Vonnegut), then you’ll surely dig this biting 90-minute satirical audio drama about the selling and buying of yoga in the United States. The phrase “kill the guru” might recall the old Buddhist admonition to figuratively “kill the Buddha,” which is interpreted as doing away with all the obstructive projections of the mind. But in this noir comedy, “kill the guru” means literally just that.

Featuring the voices of yoga teachers and actors Martin McDougall and Edward Clark (both of Tripsichore Yoga Theatre fame), along with an uncredited cast of seemingly thousands, the story follows the convoluted adventures of a sleazy accountant on the lam from a three-eyed mobster, who gets mixed up with a female yoga teacher. She’s trying to off her guru, take over his considerable assets, and then play off his sainted memory to take over the world. Along the way, the accountant (who’s by no stretch of the imagination a spiritual type at the start of the tale) becomes a much-sought-after guru named Swami Excelananda. He builds a vast yoga empire, and then…well, we won’t spoil the ending for you.

The writing is exceptionally sharp and funny: The constant barrage of one-liners and little asides spice up the proceedings, and the actors do a terrific job. McDougall and Clark have definitely put the “ha” back in hatha. And as in all good satires (think Jonathan Swift), the dark humor fronts a serious message that urges you to look more closely at who you are and what you believe.

It wasn’t long after I picked up yoga that I became curious about Indian food—an exciting, tasty cuisine that I’d heard could have healing properties. Unfortunately, at the time there wasn’t a single curry joint in my hometown of Knoxville, Tennessee. So, left to my own devices, I started with a can of curry powder. Initially, I embraced the amber powder’s unique, robust flavor, but soon the classic mix of Indian spices struck my palate more as a single flavor than a singular one. So I turned to a fun cookbook that seemed authentic enough and set about making a simple vegetarian curry from scratch. I managed to gather up the dozen or so spices that the recipe called for and tried to follow the first few steps to the letter.

But soon after I added the mustard seed to the hot oil, my phone rang, and I lost my focus. By the time I turned my attention back to the pan, it was too late; my tiny kitchen was filled with acrid air. I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t see. Rather than a lovely meal, I had created a homemade version of mustard gas.

As I stood outside gasping for breath, I was in awe that something as small as mustard seed could pack so much power. But that, it seems, is the beauty of spice. A scant teaspoon of this or a pinch of that not only transforms the mundane into the delectable but, when incorporated regularly into your diet, can offer a powerful boost to your health.

Many of the spices in a well-stocked spice rack contain healing agents that are thought to have anti-inflammatory, anticancer, prodigestive, and heart-protective benefits. “It’s amazing,” says Mark Blumenthal, who is the executive director of the American Botanical Council. “Most of us don’t think of our spices as medicine, but there are biologically active substances in there. There is something very real going on.”

Curry Wisdom

India’s Ayurvedic practitioners have recognized that “something very real” for thousands of years, using the spice rack and medicine cabinet almost interchangeably. From an Ayurvedic perspective, spices are at their most healthful when mixed with food in a balanced representation of six tastes: astringent, bitter, pungent, salty, sour, and sweet.

“When you get the six tastes, you will feel satisfied and able to move on from that meal,” says Patti Garland, an Ayurvedic chef and consultant in Palm Desert, California. It may sound intimidating, but cooking with all six tastes is actually relatively simple. Cook a bitter green like kale with mustard seed (pungent) and coriander (astringent), a squeeze of lemon (sour), and a dash of salt. Serve with rice, which is considered sweet.

Adding the six tastes to your diet every day is a simple way to keep your immune system in tune, Garland says. “And it’s what stops us from snacking and compulsive eating.” Additionally, it makes for a more interesting diet.

“Variety is truly the spice of life,” says Bharat Aggarwal, a biochemist for the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center at the University of Texas in Houston. “There are hundreds of clinical trials involving turmeric and other spices, such as red chilies and black cumin. From laboratory to kitchen, our findings are the same—there’s a synergistic effect when you combine spices. So a little bit of this and a little bit of that makes sense. There’s wisdom in curry.”

Many of the studies on the healing powers of spices have focused on turmeric, often considered the backbone of Indian curries. Aggarwal’s own groundbreaking research has established the efficacy of turmeric as a powerful cancer preventive and front-line treatment.

Aggarwal suggests eating spiced food as an inexpensive step toward better health. “If you learn to cook with spices, you’re helping to avoid diseases: cancers, cardiovascular disease, diabetes, digestive disorders—even allergies,” he says.

Classic Indian dishes like curried vegetables offer a delicious way to get those medicinal powers now being confirmed by science. If you live in a city that boasts Indian takeout, you might think of curry as a hearty dish that’s overcooked and greasy. But home-cooked Indian food can be simple, healthful, fresh, and full of intriguing and healing flavors.

Making Indian food can seem intimidating. The sheer number of spices can put you off exploring this delicious and healthful cuisine. But it’s worth persevering. If you’re the way I am, you might need a little help discovering the ease and joy of cooking Indian style—which is as accessible as making a stir-fry, but with a few basic techniques and spices that you can find in almost any grocery store.

A Matter of Taste

According to Ruta Kahate, author of 5 Spices, 50 Dishes: Simple Indian Recipes Using Five Common Spices, it helps to start small and keep things simple. Using only five spices, you can create a symphony of flavors in Indian dishes and more. “Turmeric has a musky, earthy aroma and flavor, and there’s a huge difference when it’s missing,” she says. “The other four spices mostly complement it—cumin for its toasty, nutty flavor; coriander [the seeds of a cilantro plant] for its lovely, lemony aroma; cayenne pepper for its heat, but without ever overwhelming a dish; and mustard seed for its ability to deliver a subtle horse-radishy kick to the third eye. They are all you need to create a good foundation in cooking with spices; you can create complex flavors or very simple ones. But once you master a few techniques, you will feel comfortable with spices and be ready to move on to more-complex recipes.”

Garland is probably painfully correct when she says, “The spice repertoire of most Americans is so limited—onions, garlic, salt, pepper, and that’s about it. Our tastebuds have got to reawaken. To really enjoy our food, we have to taste something other than sweet, salty, and sour. Cooking with spices is an easy way to add another three: bitter (found in turmeric), astringent (found in coriander), and pungent (found in cumin, mustard, and cayenne pepper).”

Out of the Frying Pan

Unfortunately, I had yet to move on from my mustard gas incident. Kahate loves the seeds, and they’re integral to some of the most mouthwatering dishes—including butternut squash with green beans in coconut milk curry , which sounded so good that it motivated me to get out my pan and try again.

But first, I had to learn one essential technique: the tadka, or heating of spices in oil to bring out their flavors. Simply throwing dry spices into cooked food won’t give you the results that Kahate talks about; in fact, it can leave a dish with a dry, bitter taste. All spices, especially turmeric, must first be warmed in oil to bring out their best flavor. So I began by working with oil that was just smoking in the pan, then adding spices, and giving it my full attention—determined not to repeat the mistakes of my past.

Following Kahate’s instructions, I learned three key things about tadka. One, the cooking of the spices happens in mere seconds. Two, have a lid handy; spices pop and spatter like crazy in hot oil. And three, be prepared to start over. It’s neither unusual nor a big deal to have to try again. It isn’t an irreversible failure (though, it’s best not to let things get to mustard gas levels, either).

It took me a few tries to get my tadka just so, and when I did, it was an “Aha!” moment in my Indian cooking endeavors. An even bigger revelation was the first bite, which was simple and earthy, sweet and satisfying—the vegetables transformed by spices I’d cooked just so. What a healthy, delicious reward.

Armed with puppets and props, I entered the private preschool in an upscale New York City neighborhood in 2005, ready to introduce a group of preschoolers to yoga. How tough could it be? I’m no pushover. I’d been an elementary school teacher in the Bronx. When a thief snatched my handbag one day, I won the tug of war. So, presented with the opportunity to teach yoga to humans who didn’t even reach my bellybutton, I was fearless. This would be child’s play.

The munchkins greeted me with hugs. They tipped the cuteness meter at first. I soon discovered that keeping their attention for longer than it takes to say Namaste took serious effort. To begin our first class, I gave them flowers. Everyone was to smell a flower—my stealthy way of getting them to breathe deeply—and then say Om. But Giselle wanted Sara’s pink flower. Joshua hit Grace with his purple flower. A brawl broke out. Pandemonium ensued.

Future classes were calmer. But when the kids wiggled and giggled, I’d panic, scramble to herd them, then attempt to dazzle them. “Hey, wanna play a yoga game?” I was an entertainer who couldn’t get them to focus. I felt like a chump. Six classes in, I was giving up. Then, during my meditation one day, I thought maybe I could use my breath to help. It worked.

We imagined a “car trip” to the desert. The kids sat in Dandasana (Staff Pose), steering their vehicles to poses we called lizard on a rock, snake, and camel. Little Henry exclaimed, “We’re out of gas!” We laughed. Rather than trying to exert control, I became present. I smiled and breathed. I was calm; they were calm. After that, we would “fill ‘er up” before every trip. Class became enriched by their imaginations. And I didn’t hyperventilate.