Chapter 7: Making Tofu
There was a small stone mill by the gate of the Su family’s courtyard. It was rarely used, however, as they preferred to grind their flour at the larger, more efficient mill at the village entrance. As a result, the small mill at home was mostly idle, cluttered with water buckets, bamboo baskets, and other miscellaneous items.
Yu Juanfang was making tofu today and had woken up between four and five in the morning. She pinched one of the soybeans that had been soaking all night. Having absorbed enough water, it had swollen to twice its original size. This was the perfect consistency.
She had just cleared the clutter off the millstone and was rinsing it with water when Tangtang emerged from the house, yawning. There were dark circles under her eyes. For once, Yu Juanfang’s tone softened. “It’s not even light out. Why don’t you sleep a little longer?”
“Mom, I saw you soaking the soybeans last night, so I guessed you were going to make tofu. I’m not sleepy. I’ll help you.”
“Alright then. You can help me push the mill.”
Yu Juanfang used a ladle to pour the soaked soybeans into the eye of the millstone. Tangtang grabbed the handle and began to grind. Working together, the mother and daughter quickly turned the three catties of soybeans into a large bucket of raw soy milk, frothy with white bubbles.
After grinding, they filtered the soy milk through cheesecloth two or three times. The resulting liquid was smooth and fine, with a faint, beany smell. They then poured the filtered soy milk into a large wok to boil. Tangtang continuously fed firewood into the stove while Yu Juanfang stirred the pot with a large ladle to keep the milk from sticking.
Just before it was time to add the coagulant, Yu Juanfang ladled a bowl of the soy milk out for Tangtang.
The cooked soy milk was steaming hot and richly fragrant. Tangtang licked her lips. “Thank you, Mom.”
“Wait a moment.” Remembering something, Yu Juanfang took a small jar from the cupboard and scooped a spoonful of white sugar into the bowl. “Go on, drink it.”
White sugar was a precious commodity in those days. This small jar had been bought before the New Year last year, and they had been reluctant to use it up.
“Why aren’t you drinking?” Yu Juanfang asked, noticing her frozen posture.
Tangtang blinked, feeling a warm current spread through her entire body.
“Thank you, Mom!”
She lowered her head and took a sip of the soy milk. It was delightfully sweet, with a rich soy aroma and a mellow, fragrant taste. She couldn’t help but let out a sigh of pure happiness. “This is so delicious.”
Tangtang felt like she had never tasted such wonderful soy milk before.
She held the bowl and drank, watching as Yu Juanfang added the coagulant—the most critical step in making tofu. If this part went wrong, the whole pot of soy milk would be wasted.
After the coagulant was added, the soy milk slowly curdled into the consistency of soft tofu pudding. The curds were then poured into a mold lined with cheesecloth and pressed firmly. After about half an hour of pressing, the tofu had taken shape.
Yu Juanfang had learned the art of making tofu from her own mother, and she hadn’t failed a single batch since she was ten years old.
…
At noon, Yu Juanfang took out two large blocks of the fresh tofu and cut them into smaller pieces. She heated a wok until it was smoking, then slid the tofu in to fry. Once one side was golden brown, she flipped the pieces to cook the other side. When they were perfectly browned and slightly crispy, she sprinkled them with a handful of chopped scallions, a pinch of salt, and a drizzle of soy sauce. The sight alone was enough to make one’s mouth water.
Sure enough, the moment the plate was set on the table, everyone was too busy to speak, blowing on the hot pieces of tofu before stuffing them into their mouths.
“This is so good! This tofu is so fragrant!”
“Third Sister-in-law is not only a master at making tofu, but her frying skills are incredible too! The outside is so crispy and savory, but the inside isn’t tough at all. It’s still so tender!”
Tangtang ate a piece of the fried tofu, followed by a mouthful of rice. Hearing the praise, she nodded in vigorous agreement. It was absolutely delicious.
Su Juesheng nodded too. “Mom, the tofu you make is the best.”
Seeing how happily everyone was eating, Yu Juanfang spoke up. “I soaked three catties of soybeans last night and made ten catties of tofu. There’s still some left that I’ve pressed into firm tofu, which will keep for a couple more days. For dinner, I’ll make tofu with chives and a vegetable tofu soup.”
Tofu was actually very cost-effective; one catty of soybeans could yield three to four catties of tofu. It was just that Yu Juanfang found the process troublesome and rarely made it.
Doing it once in a while was a good way to improve their meals.
Hearing that they would be having tofu again for dinner, the children held up their bowls and cheered with excitement.
…
The Xichuan River threaded its way through several villages of the Red Flag Commune. Yuhuai Village was situated in the middle and lower reaches, where the deepest part of the river was less than a meter. Across the riverbend lay the continuous stretch of Threshing Grain Mountain. Several large, flat bluestones were laid out by the riverbank, and the village women would usually squat on them to do their laundry.
It was the busy farming season, so Tangtang had voluntarily taken on the task of washing the clothes. She carried a wooden basin piled high with dirty laundry. She and Wani each found a bluestone, squatted down, and began to wash.
Tangtang placed the wooden basin beside the stone slab. She took a bar of coarse, black soap and rubbed it thoroughly over the grimiest parts—the collar and cuffs. She scrubbed them again and again, and the yellowish-brown grime gradually frothed into a white lather, sliding down the fabric’s weave and dissolving into the water.
After scrubbing, Tangtang submerged the entire garment in the river. The water instantly turned murky. She gripped both ends of the clothing and shook it up and down, forcing the dirty water out from between the fibers. The water she wrung out splashed onto the stone slab, spreading into dark patches.
Once the clothes were rinsed, the river quickly became clear again. Just as Tangtang stood up with her basin, she spotted a school of translucent river shrimp swimming in the crystal-clear water.
Tangtang glanced at the bamboo basket Wani was using for her clothes. “Sister Wani, move your clothes onto the stone and let me borrow your basket!”
Wani instantly understood her intention and quickly emptied the basket for her. Tangtang grabbed it and plunged it into the water, scooping up a full load. As she lifted it out, water cascaded through the wickerwork, leaving behind several kicking and jumping river shrimp.
They hadn’t expected such a delightful surprise while doing the laundry. The two sisters beamed with joy. Tangtang spoke again, “Spring is here, so the fish and shrimp are active. There might be a whole school of them nearby. Let’s look for more.”
Tangtang found a stick and began stirring up the aquatic weeds upstream, while Wani positioned herself downstream, ready to scoop up any shrimp that were flushed out.
Yu Juanfang was using her break from the noon fieldwork to dismantle last year’s vine trellis. Although spring had arrived, their daily meals still consisted mostly of potatoes and radishes, with the occasional wild vegetable or mushroom to vary their diet.
In these times, not only was meat expensive, but fresh vegetables were not cheap either. Every household cultivated a small plot of land at the base of their walls, planting melons, fruits, and vegetables to supplement their food supply for the year.
Wani was hanging the clean clothes on a line. “Third Aunt, are we planting pumpkins again this year?”
“No pumpkins this year. We planted them the last two years, and the yield wasn’t very high. I got some new seeds from my sister-in-law at my parents’ home.”
“What kind of seeds?”
“They’re called snake gourds. Sounds like a novelty. I’ve never tried them myself, but I hear you can eat both the gourd and the leaves.”
The vegetable patch had been tilled a few days prior. Yu Juanfang used a hoe to dig a series of small pits, then buried the seeds inside. After hanging the last of the clothes, Tangtang went to the kitchen stove, shoveled out a bucket of plant ash, and carefully spread it in an even layer over the surface of the garden plot. After a final watering, the planting was done.
Yu Juanfang was surprised. “You two caught this many shrimp?”
“It was all Tangtang’s idea,” Wani explained. “She saw the shrimp swimming in the river and figured there must be a school of them nearby, so she searched through all the weeds, and sure enough, we found several schools.”
Tangtang nervously licked her lips, a smile spreading across her face. A hint of a smile also appeared on Yu Juanfang’s lips. “You both worked hard. For dinner, we’ll have stir-fried river shrimp with chives.”
Tangtang’s eyes widened, and she nodded excitedly. “Okay! I’ll help prep the chives this afternoon.”
…
Yu Juanfang called Tangtang into the house and handed her a piece of sponge cake wrapped in oil paper.
A rich, eggy aroma wafted into her nose, a scent that instantly reminded Tangtang of the freshly baked sponge cakes at the cooperative. “Mom, what’s this?”
“It’s a sponge cake. I went to my parents’ home today to get the seeds, and my mother gave it to me.”
Although her family’s situation wasn’t good, Mother Yu still doted on her eldest daughter.
Tangtang swallowed hard. Even though she desperately wanted to eat it, she forced herself to push the cake back. “Mom, you eat it. Grandma gave it to you.”
For once, Yu Juanfang had the patience to reason with her. “I don’t want it. I had sweet potatoes for lunch and drank a big bowl of water. I can’t eat another bite. You’ve never had it before, so you eat it.”
“Then… let’s save it for my brothers.” It was Sunday, so the Su family boys were outside playing with marbles.
“Hurry up and eat it. It would be a waste on those little rascals.”
Yu Juanfang gave a dismissive wave of her hand, signaling for her to eat it quickly. She still had to go back to work in the afternoon. As she left, she pulled the door shut behind her.
Tangtang was left alone in the south room. She carefully unfolded the oil paper. Inside was a whole piece of sponge cake, golden and glistening. She took a small bite. It was soft, fluffy, and sweet, with an intense, fragrant taste of egg. The cake seemed to melt in her mouth; it was simply too delicious.
Tangtang thought back to the way her mother had looked when she handed her the cake.
Although Yu Juanfang never said much, she was truly very good to her—better, in fact, than she was to her three brothers. Only Tangtang had received the fruit candies. Only Tangtang had been taken to the state-run canteen at the commune. And only Tangtang had new clothes made just for her.
Tangtang had heard a phrase before: zhòngnánqīngnǚ—to value sons and belittle daughters. That phrase had defined the first six years of her life. But here with Yu Juanfang, the treatment she received was better than that of the three boys.
It felt as if an empty space deep in her heart was being filled to the brim.
…
Around five o’clock in the afternoon, the adults began to return from the fields, carrying their hoes. The children helped chop the pig feed, fed the chickens, and herded them into their coop. Old Madam Zhu cut some fresh chives from the garden plot, and Tangtang helped by picking off the yellowed leaves and washing them clean.
Dinner was stir-fried river shrimp with chives and a side of pickled sour cabbage. The main staple was black sorghum rice. The sour cabbage had been pickled before the New Year and wouldn’t last much longer, but with such a large family, there was no fear of it going to waste.
As for the main dish, the river shrimp were fresh and the meat was firm. The clean fragrance of the chives perfectly complemented the savory flavor of the shrimp. Forget everyone else—Tangtang felt she could easily eat two whole bowls of rice with that dish alone.