Bean there, done that: Fresh artisanal tofu has layers of flavor: tangy, sweet, milky.

Soy What?

Think tofu’s a bland, flavorless joke? Think again.

by Mara Zepeda

For too long tofu has been seen as the tabula rasa of vegetarian cuisine. The unassuming white brick is often praised for its remarkable ability to absorb nearly any flavor. Bending to our will, it doesn’t complain when we drench it in yet another uninspired soy sauce marinade. We treat this ancient food like a pitiful, tasteless sponge.

Gary Abramowitz, owner of Fresh Tofu Inc., feels differently. He believes that organic, artisanal tofu, like that produced by his company, stands on its own. A slice right off the press might be enough to convince you he’s right. There are layers of flavor: tangy, sweet, milky.

Back in 1983 when the company started, “tofu was kind of a joke,” says Abramowitz. “No one took it seriously, and we were the only game in town.” Then the natural foods market exploded, and large companies began producing the bland, flavorless tofu we’ve come to know. But Fresh Tofu has remained a small operation, and its product tastes markedly different from the rest.

Abramowitz walks me through the tofu plant in Allentown. The tofu beans are soaked, inhaled through a tube and finely ground into a powder that could be mistaken for parmesan cheese. The snow-like pulp is cooked and the soy milk is separated out and ferried across to a mechanized carousel mixer. Each pinwheeled paddle is a different geometric shape and the soy milk progresses through six stages of gentle massage.

Abramowitz agonized over the development of these paddles, which try to replicate the motions of a person tenderly stirring (as was the practice until a few years ago). “We’ve automated all the parts, but we still very much have a human element.”

Nigari, a seawater-based coagulant, is added to the vats, which causes the milk to curdle. The “human element” pours the curds into cheesecloth-lined trays, which are then inserted into presses to extract excess water.

Every three minutes a press releases a sheet of tofu to an employee who slides a set of blades first vertically then horizontally to create the familiar blocks. The final product is immersed in a cool bath to chill before being packaged.

The entire process is a rather lovely minimalist dance: the yellow tofu beans, the stainless steel machines, the workers’ white uniforms, and the ethereal swaths of damp cheesecloth. Watching the tofu bob and dip, suspended in the watery bath, one wonders if a modern artist like Damien Hirst might not find it an interesting new medium.

The company has a number of green practices in place. The bean pulp is distributed to a local dairy farm, thus “completing the cycle,” says Abramowitz. Tofu is sold in 5-gallon pails and the buckets are resanitized and reused. And the plant relies heavily on an Ozonator—a device that ozonates water, creating a nontoxic bacteria-killing solution used for cleaning.

Fresh Tofu Inc. is building on its green efforts while continuing to produce its prized product. With Thanksgiving fast approaching, Abramowitz is gearing up for production of their holiday special, marinated tofu molded into the shape of a turkey. From tabula rasa to tofurkey. You’ve come a long way, tofu-baby.