Return to Chengdu

The first man to make tofu is commonly said to have been Liu An, Prince of Huainan in the Former Han. The claim does not hold up well. No text from the period actually mentions it, and tofu does not appear in the historical record until the tenth century, under the Northern Song.

Even so, the conditions for making it were already in place—enough that a story crediting Liu An with the invention could arise at all.

All tofu really needs is beans, water, and bittern.

The method looks simple enough at a glance. Wash the beans well and soak them in water, then grind them on a millstone. What comes off the stone is raw soy mash. That mash has to be divided into soy milk and pulp: boil it once, then strain it through a cloth sack. When the milk you have pressed out has cooled to just the right warmth, stir in bittern and let it set. That is the whole of it.

Lift the curd while it has only just begun to firm, and you have soft tofu. Leave a little of the whey in as it sets, and you have silken tofu. Pour it into a mold, press the moisture out, and give it a shape, and you arrive at the ordinary firm tofu everyone knows.

I never imagined a school field trip would come in handy like this.

I also remember being thoroughly put out at the time. I have never been especially fond of tofu. They told us it would not hurt to know how it was made. They were exactly right.

Unlike beans and water, bittern can seem a little troublesome. In Yizhou there was no need to worry about that at all. The province is so rich in rock salt that it keeps a colonel whose entire charge is the salt administration.

Bittern is only the liquid that seeps out of salt on its own, once moisture has soaked in and drawn the minerals with it, so it does take time. Impatient people, however, have always found a way to skip that step. Stir vinegar and salt into water. That is all. That is the entire trick.

When I left Zhang Bao's house I had sent the attendants on errands, and by the time I reached the main residence every ingredient was laid out waiting. After that I followed the process exactly as I remembered it and set to work.

The attendants watching at my side offered to take over the moment I started grinding beans on the millstone, but I put them off as gently as I could. I even told them to keep their distance while I worked.

The hygiene is no good.

This was for Zhang Bao, and his health was poor. Let anything unclean get into it and the whole labor would defeat itself. While the beans soaked I bathed, and I scalded the pot, the millstone, and the rest with furiously boiling water—the least I could do by way of disinfection.

Yeoni, back at the main house, grew curious and wanted to help. I had to shake my head.

Next time. I'll do it with you next time.

The soy milk, carried through a process thorough to the point of fastidiousness, was already coagulating, turning itself into tofu. At this stage you pour it into a mold and weigh it down with something heavy, a stone or the like, press out the water, and set the shape. Done. Before that, though, I ladled off a proper share of soft tofu for Zhang Bao. Only once I had poured what remained into a wooden frame, to become ordinary firm tofu, did a little fatigue catch up with me.

Doing it alone wears you out.

Even so, thinking of Zhang Bao eating this and getting his strength back made the ache in my shoulders feel perfectly acceptable. As soon as it cooled, I would take it straight over.

"It's delicious..."

Zhang Bao took one spoonful of the soft tofu I had brought him, and his eyes went wide.

"Soft. So very soft. It's like a cloud."

And then another bite.

Everyone watched him eat, hardly daring to breathe. True to a curd that slips down even more easily than porridge, he emptied the bowl clean without a single retch in between. Soft tofu comes with its whey, and for the first time in a long while the corners of his mouth held moisture. Something had finally gone into his stomach, and he looked markedly more at ease. If he kept on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with this, I could move him later to porridge with vegetables ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in it. Raise the stages one by one, and ordinary food ought not to be too much for him.

"Lan. Does this dish have a name?"

"Well, for now I've been calling it tofu."

"Tofu... doufu. Beans brought to a ripe softness, then."

The compound he had reached for was one I had never heard used back in Korea. It meant, more or less, that food in the stomach had been worked into a state easy to digest. I had called it tofu for no deeper reason than ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that tofu was what it had always been called. Zhang Bao had gone and interpreted the name all on his own.

Zhang Shao, who had been listening to the two of us, spoke up.

"But the character for rot has an unpleasant ring to it."

This was still an age when superstition carried weight. Looking at a case like mine, such things might even have real force. Worried, perhaps, that an ill-omened name would do his ailing brother no good, Zhang Shao said as much. I did not care what it was called, so I went along with him.

"Then we change it. I don't mind."

"May I be the one to name it?"

"It was made for you, Elder Brother. There's meaning in your choosing the name yourself."

When I nodded, Zhang Bao gazed quietly down into the empty bowl. He studied it as if calling back the shape of the soft tofu that had been there a moment ago, and then, as though a good name had come to him, he smiled faintly.

A cloud made of beans. It hardly suited plain firm tofu, though soft tofu and silken tofu were another matter. At this rate the soft curd would become the original, and firm tofu might end up with a name of its own. Solid Bean Cloud, perhaps, seeing as it had been pressed firm. If I had truly invented the thing at the end of my own research I might have cared. I had cheated with knowledge from the future, so what it was called hardly mattered to me.

"Yes. It's a good name."

"Ahem. Hem. A beautiful affection between brother and sister. A fine thing to see. But Lan—this Bean Cloud of yours. Is there any left?"

Father's worry had eased at the sight of Zhang Bao eating, and I laughed under my breath.

"Of course. I left some to firm up a little more over there, so the rest of the family could share. Elder Brother will have to wait until he's a bit better before he tries that."

And so, under the family's eager attention, a tofu tasting was held. They say the people of the Ming went mad for the tofu of Joseon. Their forebears were no different. The family poured out one marveling sigh after another as they ate. Even Father and Mother, who claimed the sweet dishes of Xichuan did not suit them, worked their chopsticks with a will. Tofu, it seemed, was very much to their taste.

Tofu hot pot, pan-fried tofu. This was an age without chili peppers, so to me the food was only bland, but for the family it was the experience of an entirely new ingredient. With the worry over Zhang Bao lifted as well, we savored the pleasure of the meal.

"Old Gwak. I set some aside for the attendants too, so share it out."

"Aigo, young lady... that you would look after even lowly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠folk like us... how could the likes of us ever..."

He had watched over me since I was small, and even after I became a general Old Gwak never managed to stop calling me young lady. It left a sour taste every time I heard it, but it felt wrong to make a fuss over that alone. The attendants who had stood by and watched me pour sweat into the making of the tofu looked at me even more overcome than he was.

Attendants, servants—I still carried a twenty-first-century Korean's sense of self. Rank and age have their proprieties. And nothing stings like the people at the top keeping the good food to themselves. Father was stern with those below him and would never be the first to offer them a share, so if anyone was going to look after them, it had to be me.

"Don't stand on ceremony. Eat. I'll teach you how to make it before I go, so you can set it before Mother often."

"Young lady..."

Unable to refuse me any longer, Old Gwak took the tofu and shared it with the attendants, and sighs of admiration rose here and there. The idea had not been mine, but effort had gone into the making, and a warm satisfaction settled in my chest.

"Lan is lovely even in her heart. Whoever takes her away, I couldn't say who it will be, but he will be a fortunate man indeed."

Zhang Shao said it lightly, laughing, as if it were only a joke. It was not a subject that should ever have been raised. Realizing as much a moment too late, he shut his mouth with a stricken look. Too late. Water spilled cannot be gathered up, and words once spoken are the same.

"Ahem!"

Father set his chopsticks down with a sharp clack. At the open display of his displeasure, Zhang Shao hunched his shoulders.

"If some worthless wretch turns up saying he'll take our Lan, I'll be sure to pass word to Elder Brother."

That elder brother was certainly not Liu Bei. It was Guan Yu. Even so, because the man in question was Guan Yu, Zhang Fei was only wistful, only a little sore. He was not offended.

"And if it's a man of virtue, or of letters? What will you do then?"

"Then too, I tell Eldest Brother, and that is the end of it. The strategist will obey his lord, won't he?"

Father clicked his tongue and went on.

"Tch. Truth is, before I ever step in, Eldest Brother will already have taken the man's measure. You can see it in Liu Ba alone. Once a man of talent catches Eldest Brother's eye, he never forgets him his whole life. Those he has no choice but to let go, like Yuan Zhi or Gukyang, he sends on their way, but he does not lose hold of anyone if he can help it."

Aside from Xu Shu and Tian Yu, who had left to attend their mothers, had Liu Bei ever released a man of talent from his side? People like Chen Qun had gone only because Liu Bei was in no position to keep them. I had never meant to marry in the first place, so it made no difference to me. If Liu Bei had marked me as someone to watch closely, was that not all to the good?

...Scratch that.