While you can snatch tofu wanzi as they emerge, spitting hot, out of the pan, I think they are even better from the refrigerator the next day, the custardy interior permeated by bacon smoke, surrounded by a slightly greasy crust. Either way, expressed within them are the seemingly dissonant values of northern China and the American South. Upon further consideration, though, the two cultures have quite a lot in common: They are both partial to vinegar, peanuts, pork, and good manners. Still, for some reason, I have never been able to successfully make tofu wanzi for anyone who is not part of my family. Just the other day, I tried to make them for a dinner party, only to have them stick to the pan. And so, for me, Grandma Chin's hush puppies are a private affair, meant to be shared with immediate kin.