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My roommates were understandably hesitant when I mentioned my next cooking adventure. “I’m planning to make stinky tofu this summer,” I declared, brandishing a bunch of amaranth leaves. Their initial enthusiasm quickly turned into looks of doubt, prompting one to ask, “What’s that going to do to our home’s scent?”
Stinky tofu is a unique culinary creation known for its strong, often divisive aroma and bold flavor. This beloved street food captures the hearts of those who relish funky foods such as aged cheeses and fermented delicacies. Its cooking methods vary widely: it can be stewed, barbecued, steamed, braised, or deep-fried. Most commonly, it’s found as deep-fried cubes, served alongside zesty pickles or drizzled with a mix of garlic, soy sauce, and chili oil. While some people savor its rich flavor, others liken its smell to that of rotten food. However, most agree that stinky tofu is a remarkable blend of funkiness, sourness, umami, sweetness, and spice, packed with complexity.
Fans of stinky tofu can be found across the globe, particularly in East Asia. In China, the flavors range vastly, from the crispy black stinky tofu in Changsha, Hunan, to the spicy, fragrant variants from Sichuan, which utilize chilis and Sichuan pepper for an extra kick. Taiwan’s night markets are known for serving this dish in a variety of ways, whether deep-fried, stewed, or prepared in savory stir-fries.
Personally, I have a strong preference for deep-fried stinky tofu. I appreciate its crunchy outer layer, which contrasts perfectly with the soft inside, allowing it to absorb sauces beautifully. This preparation serves as a fantastic introduction to the dish, as frying tends to dull some of the more intense flavors.
My interest in making stinky tofu was piqued when I discovered Clarissa Wei’s cookbook Made in Taiwan. She presents a recipe for stinky tofu that is both approachable and achievable in the comfort of one’s kitchen. Intrigued, I set out to prepare it in my New York City apartment.
Typically, stinky tofu is reserved for street food vendors, who cluster in specific areas to manage the strong odor. In contrast, most restaurants offer frozen or pre-packaged versions. This reality made the prospect of cooking such a pungent dish in a shared kitchen nerve-wracking. However, I soon discovered that, with careful methods, it is entirely feasible to create stinky tofu without overwhelming my roommates.
Despite the strong odors associated with stinky tofu, Wei’s Taiwanese recipe is relatively simple and, based on my experiences, quite forgiving. The primary ingredient is amaranth, available in both red and green types. This plant, also known as Chinese spinach, emits a notably strong aroma when lacto-fermented with a two percent salt solution.
For those who can’t find amaranth, alternatives exist. Pao-Yu Liu, a Taiwanese fermenter based in London, has successfully crafted stinky brine using radish greens, while others have begun with mustard greens. These greens are combined with a brine made from salt and leftover rice soaking water, and flavors can be enhanced with ingredients like shrimp shells, peppercorns, bamboo shoots, shiitake mushrooms, tangerine peels, and various herbs.
Wei delved deep into the process when developing her fried stinky tofu recipe. During an interview with a vendor in Taipei, she realized a common misconception: many believe that stinky tofu is spoiled tofu, which is inaccurate. Instead of lengthy fermentation, the tofu sits in the brine for just a few days. The initial block of tofu used should be fresh, but the brine can last indefinitely. Freelance fermentation expert Mara Jane King once tasted tofu from a brine maintained for over 50 years, describing its overwhelming creaminess and unique flavor profile.
Wei, who has enjoyed countless servings of stinky tofu, has identified her preferred version: “The ideal stinky tofu possesses depth and intricate flavors, akin to a well-aged cheese,” she observes. “It should be porous and sponge-like, yet firm enough not to disintegrate upon biting.”
Though the aroma from a stinky tofu seller can be quite overwhelming, I found it manageable to control the odors while fermenting at home. I placed the fermentation jar, sealed, in a well-ventilated area of my apartment. Occasionally, I would open the jar to release gas and experience a brief, potent aroma—quite overpowering! However, once resealed, the smell became minimal, and my roommates remained unaffected.
After two months of fermentation, it was finally time to immerse the tofu in its aromatic brine. For this step, Wei recommends using firmer tofu, as the brine’s strong properties can quickly break it down if one isn’t cautious. Following her advice, I chose a firm tofu variant, drained excess moisture, and cut it into one-inch cubes to soak in the brine for three days.
I anticipated the frying process would present challenges in a shared living space. Wei offered essential tips: open windows and activate the kitchen vent. Considering my roommates’ tendencies, I went a step further and set up a portable camping stove outside to fry the tofu without creating an indoor odor. (Note that the tofu will carry less aroma than the brine itself.) I achieved the desired outcome: crispy tofu with just a hint of earthy scent but a wonderfully creamy taste.
I found great joy in creating stinky tofu, especially since it’s not commonly made from scratch in restaurants. Sharing the initial tastes of this easy-to-prepare dish with my roommates was a delight. For those considering this culinary project, the effort, despite the strong aromas, is highly rewarding. Nonetheless, it may not appeal to everyone; if your roommates are averse to new smells, it could be wiser to introduce them to stinky tofu in an external setting first.
Jess Eng is a food and culture writer based in New York City. Her work appears in the Washington Post, the New York Times, TASTE, and more.
Lily Fossett is a freelance illustrator based in Bath, UK. She has a passion for portraying narrative in her illustrations and uses digital media to explore color and texture.
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