Sufu: History, Fermentation, and Culinary Heritage
Sufu has a smell that stops you mid-breath. For some, it’s the soft echo of childhood breakfasts. For others, it’s the spark of curiosity in the back aisle of an Asian grocer, where mysterious cubes float in amber brine.
Long before it was compared to “vegan cheese,” sufu was — and still is — a marvel of preservation, flavour, and cultural heritage. Its history isn’t a neat line through one dynasty, but a winding path across centuries of ingenuity, adaptation, and care.
This is more than food. It’s a flavour archive — a story of people, microbes, and time.
📜 From Wei Records to Ming Kitchens – A Non-Linear Birth
The origins of sufu (腐乳), or fermented bean curd, are as layered as its taste. Records of tofu appear in the Western Han dynasty (179–122 BCE), though it didn’t become widely popular until the Song era (960–1279 CE). Written mentions of preserved bean curd occur as early as the Wei Dynasty (220–265 CE), but the first unambiguous description of something like modern sufu — then called haifu (醢腐) — appears in 1610 in the Ming dynasty text Penglong Yehua by Li Rihua (李日華).
The evolution was gradual, with methods refined and recorded sporadically over many centuries. What we know for certain is that across this span, artisans discovered that tofu could be transformed through controlled mould growth and patient brining. In an age before refrigeration, fermentation was not just preservation — it was an act of creativity.
🏛️ From Monastery Tables to Imperial Banquets
By the Song and Ming dynasties, sufu had moved from rustic kitchens into elite dining halls. Tofu cubes were inoculated with select moulds, dried, and aged in brines enriched with rice wine, herbs, or spices tailored to regional tastes.
A later, verifiable record from the 1861 text The Food Encyclopedia (Shíwù Bǎikē, 食物百科) by Wang Su-Hsiung (王素雄) explicitly describes fermented bean curd as aiding digestion and stimulating the appetite — providing one of the clearest historical connections between sufu and traditional dietary therapy.
Its taste — called xian (鮮) in classical Chinese — was celebrated for balance: salty yet soft, savoury yet delicate, a harmonious bridge between sweetness and umami.
🧪 Microbial Mastery – Tradition and Science in Balance
Sufu’s making is a two-stage process:
Mould Fermentation – Firm tofu cubes are inoculated with fungal spores from Actinomucor elegans, Mucor, or Rhizopus. Over 3–7 days in a humid, warm environment, they develop a white coat of mycelium known as pehtze.
Brining and Ripening – The moulded tofu is immersed in a brine of 12–18% salt, often with rice wine and aromatics. Over 30–180 days, enzymes break down macronutrients, and the cubes soften, taking on complex aromas and a creamy texture.
During ripening:
Proteins are hydrolysed into peptides and free amino acids, especially glutamic acid — the foundation of umami.
Lipids undergo lipolysis, creating short-chain fatty acids that give sufu its cheese-like notes.
Pigments from added ingredients (e.g., red yeast rice in some varieties) infuse colour and additional bioactive compounds.
Traditional “natural” fermentation — without controlled starter cultures — can yield exceptional depth of flavour but carries risks. Studies have detected:
Enterococcaceae bacteria in some batches are capable of causing gastrointestinal illness.
Biogenic amines (histamine, tyramine) exceeding 100–200 mg/kg, which may trigger headaches, nausea, or blood pressure spikes. The WHO cites histamine toxicity risk above 500 mg/kg, while the EFSA advises staying below 200–300 mg/kg total intake for safety.
Modern controlled fermentation uses selected mould strains, hygienic inoculation, and precise salt/alcohol levels. This prevents harmful bacterial growth, keeps biogenic amines at safe levels (often <50 mg/kg), and produces consistent texture and flavour — honouring tradition while safeguarding health.
🌍 A Thousand Jars, A Thousand Identities
Sufu wears many regional voices:
Jiangsu & Zhejiang: Soft-textured, pale cubes steeped in fragrant rice wine, often eaten with steamed buns or morning congee.
Sichuan: Spicy white sufu infused with chilli and numbing Sichuan peppercorns, used to add both heat and tingling complexity to braises, hotpots, and stir-fries.
Taiwan: Delicate rose-scented styles or rich sesame-oil versions, favoured as condiments for simple rice dishes or lightly sautéed greens.
Vietnam: Known as chao when referring to fermented tofu — but cháo also means rice porridge, a completely different dish. The tofu version is often mashed into dipping sauces for boiled vegetables or fried tofu.
Each style reflects its climate, palate, and culinary habits. In parts of Yunnan and Fujian, some families still layer tofu, salt, and rice wine in earthen jars, sealing them for months — a seasonal ritual where results depend on temperature, humidity, and time.
📦 Migration, Memory, and Modern Plates
Sufu travelled with migrants, carried in luggage and memory. It endured periods when fermentation was seen as old-fashioned or suspect, quietly remaining a beloved companion to rice, greens, and porridge.
Today, it thrives in both traditional and inventive settings — spread on steamed buns in Guangzhou, whisked into salad dressings in Sydney, stirred into pasta sauces in Melbourne, or mashed into marinades in Montréal. Its appeal is not trendiness — it’s timelessness.
🧠 Final Reflection – The Patience of Flavour
To open a jar of sufu is to open a jar of seasons past.
Inside is the skill of artisans, the wisdom of controlled decay, and the artistry of balancing flavour with preservation. It proves that great flavour isn’t only about ingredients — it’s about what time, care, and knowledge can create together.
Sufu is not “just” fermented tofu. It is salt, story, and survival — a culinary treasure reminding us that the deepest flavours come from the slowest journeys.
