Sufu: History, Fermentation, and Culinary Heritage

Fermentation Before It Had a Name

Sufu existed long before anyone spoke of enzymes, microbes, or controlled cultures.

It emerged from observation rather than theory—from cooks noticing that tofu, when left under the right conditions, didn’t simply spoil. It changed. It softened. It deepened.

In early Chinese food culture, fermentation wasn’t a technique. It was a relationship with time.

Grains soured. Vegetables softened. Soybeans transformed. These processes weren’t documented in textbooks—they were learned through repetition, failure, and memory. Sufu belongs firmly to this lineage: food shaped by experience rather than instruction.

Why Tofu Was the Perfect Beginning

Tofu was never meant to be the final form.

Fresh tofu is abundant, mild, and highly perishable. In agrarian societies where soybeans were plentiful but refrigeration was not, preservation wasn’t optional—it was essential.

Fermenting tofu into sufu extended its life while increasing its value. What began as a neutral protein became concentrated, savoury, and shelf-stable. This wasn’t excess or indulgence. It was practicality refined into craft.

Sufu didn’t replace tofu.
It completed it.

Early Records and Cultural Continuity

Historical references to fermented tofu products appear as early as the Wei Dynasty (3rd century CE), though the techniques themselves likely predate written records.

What matters more than exact dates is continuity.

Across centuries, sufu remained:

• a household food rather than elite cuisine

• a preserved staple rather than a celebratory dish

• a quiet constant rather than a culinary trend

Its survival wasn’t driven by novelty, but by usefulness. Families kept making sufu because it worked—nutritionally, economically, and culturally.

Regional Styles, Shared Wisdom

As with most fermented foods, sufu evolved differently depending on climate, ingredients, and local taste.

Over time, distinct styles emerged:

• White sufu — clean, sharp, salty, and direct

• Red sufu — enriched with red yeast rice, offering sweetness and warmth

• Long-aged or pungent styles — softer, creamier, and more aromatic

These weren’t rigid categories. They were living traditions, shaped by humidity, seasonal temperature, available grains, and household preference.

No two jars were identical.
That variability wasn’t a flaw—it was the point.

Fermentation as Skilled Judgment

Traditional sufu making relied on senses, not measurements.

Producers learned to read:

• surface texture

• aroma shifts

• colour changes

• the feel of the tofu under gentle pressure

Timing mattered. So did restraint. Too little salt invited spoilage. Too much halted transformation. Rice wine wasn’t just flavour—it was balance.

This was fermentation as judgment, not automation.

Knowledge lived in hands and habits, passed quietly from one generation to the next.

Sufu in the Everyday Pantry

Despite its complexity, sufu was never rare.

It belonged beside rice, vegetables, and preserved greens. It appeared at breakfast with congee, slipped into simple stir-fries, or dissolved into sauces for depth.

Used sparingly, it made plain food complete.

That everyday role explains why sufu endured while many regional fermented foods faded. It wasn’t special-occasion food. It was reliable food.

Modernisation and What Was Lost

Industrial production brought consistency and scale. It also flattened the variation.

Commercial sufu is safer, more predictable, and widely available—but often less expressive. Regional nuances blur. Fermentation times shorten. Flavours converge.

Yet traditional sufu hasn’t disappeared. It persists in local markets, small producers, and family methods that resist optimisation.

Not because they are nostalgic—but because they still work.

Final Takeaway: A Food That Carries Memory

Sufu isn’t just fermented tofu.
It’s preserved knowledge.

Each jar holds decisions made long ago—about time, salt, patience, and trust. Its flavour carries climate, habit, and cultural memory in equal measure.

To eat sufu is not only to taste fermentation.
It’s to taste continuity.

Next in the series:
The Soul of Sufu: Science, Flavour and Culinary Wisdom — exploring what happens inside the tofu itself.