Food Profile: Tofu

One of the topics that interests me most in the discussion of food is how an object or practice is viewed in different cultures. While food is an integral part of any society, each group treats their relationship with it differently, from production to process to consumption. These cultural differences were accentuated in our bento box experience. The sensation eating pickles made from items not normally pickled in today’s Western culture, the completely different texture of the Japanese cucumbers, Anne Allison’s description of the almost sacred preparation of the box compared to the United States’ more relaxed attitude surrounding the boxed lunch—all these elements made creating and consuming a bento box a very different food-related experience here at University of Washington than at a Japanese primary school.

Ann’s blog on the differing viewpoints on cucumbers in Japan versus the United States set the wheels in motion for me regarding my food profile. I wanted to explore the diverging uses and viewpoints of a food used in two cultures, one Eastern and one Western. The food item I chose—tofu—has a very different place on the table in the United States than it does in China.

A Brief History of Tofu

Tofu is manufactured in a method similar to cheese. Soy milk is coagulated, and the resulting curds are pressed into blocks. Tofu is widely used in both sweet and savory dishes, particularly in Asian, and is primarily added as a textural or nutritional element. Largely unseasoned, tofu has very little flavor on its own, and easily conforms to the flavor profiles of the dish in which it is being used.

Though little is known about ancient processing methods, evidence exists that production of tofu began in China as early as the first century A.D. Tofu was first made in the United States in San Francisco the late part of the nineteenth century, and the first American commercial scale tofu production factory, La Sierra Industries, was formed in 1929. Tofu became widely available as a product able to be purchased in the supermarket in the 1950’s.

Tofu is available in three different varieties, based on their texture. Soft or silken tofu contains the most moisture of the trio, and possesses a creamy, custard-like texture. It is most often used in Asian desserts or served with peppers and hot pickles, and is not often used in Western cooking, due mainly to a cultural bias against the soft texture.

Asian firm tofu is a second variety popular in Chinese and Japanese cooking. While substantially more firm than silken the silken variety, it is still fairly moist, particularly on the inside. Asian firm tofu contains a protective outer skin derived from boiling the soy milk during processing, giving it a texture and pliability similar to that of raw meat. This is the sort of tofu that the casual American diner can find in specialty markets and more authentically Eastern Asian restaurants, most likely in soups and vegetarian dishes.

A third type is Western firm, or dried, tofu. This variety of tofu has a dry, thick outer skin, and has a spongy, rubbery texture. Though edible on its own, Western firm tofu is easily crumbled, and often used as a base ingredient in processed soy foods. In Asian restaurants, it is sometimes cut into thin strips, boiled and served like noodles.

Musings on Tofu

What I found fascinating in my exploration of tofu, was the cultural divide between China and the United States in the way the societies utilize the product in their cooking. In the US, tofu is primarily thought of as a vegetarian-only foodstuff, with the average American having little to no tofu-to-palate contact throughout their entire life. I spent six years as a vegetarian, and listened to endless taunts from my family, all assuming that the only thing I ever ate was tofu. When I came home to visit, there would always be a block of it sitting in their refrigerator, and my mother would anxiously await to see what disgusting, meat-free concoctions I was going to prepare with it.

In reality, even as a vegetarian, I rarely ate tofu outside of Asian restaurants. I did however, eat a lot of soy-based products, many of which used dried tofu as a base ingredient. These processed foods had all been re-formed and flavors added to make it look and taste like meat. All of them had clever names such as soysages, chik’n patties, riblets that implied they were nearly indistinguishable from meat. Most of my vegetarian friends also eat their tofu in a similar manner. Even vegetarians cannot seem to get past the stigma that tofu is a lesser replacement for meat. They may be ideologically opposed to consumption of animals, but still desire to eat foods that (theoretically) taste like an animal product.

In China, however, while tofu is often served in a dish instead of meat, it is not thought of solely as a meat substitute. Indeed, many Asian dishes contain both meat and tofu. It is also used in a variety of desserts; the silken variety is excellent for custards and panna cotta-like dishes. Eating this creamy type of tofu is definitely an acquired taste for an American palate, as the mushy texture it possesses has been culturally engrained in Western recipes as unpleasant and overcooked.

Tofu is also processed and sold to the Chinese people in a variety of methods that would not sell in the United States. Dried tofu is allowed to ferment and is then pickled in salt water and vinegar, and eaten as is, or as a condiment for rice or noodles. Soft tofu is fermented in a fish and vegetable brine to create stinky tofu. This variety possesses an earthy, almost rotten scent, and forms a thick, crispy rind on the outside. It is also eaten as is, served with a hot and salty sauce.

Personally, I do not think I am in alone in thinking that eating tofu that smells like moldy cheese is unfathomable. Even though, I am aware of the culinary values of tofu, I still have a tendency to think of it as something undesirable, or something that I’ll eat if there aren’t any good beef or chicken dishes on the menu. I have a feeling there are a lot of bricks of Asian firm tofu sitting unloved in refrigerators all over the United States, with the hapless parents of vegetarians unaware that their children are nearly as culturally opposed to tofu as they are.