This Seafood Classic Combines the Briny Flavor of Oysters With the Silky Texture of Tofu

When we visited Fuzhou last May, the weather was diabolically hot—but that didn’t stop us from drinking warm soup every day. Fuzhou, the capital of Fujian province, has a strong culture of soups, so, naturally, every meal we had was accompanied with a piping serving of broth. (Besides, it’s pretty typical in China to enjoy hot soup or water when it’s sweltering outside, since it helps you feel cooler when you sweat.) Over the course of 12 days we sipped bowls of pork rib soup (páigǔ tāng, 排骨汤), Fuzhou fish balls (fúzhōu yúwán, 福州鱼丸) and even Xiamen’s popular satay noodle soup (shāchá miàn, 沙茶面). On one particular evening, at the Michelin-recommended restaurant Xuanhe Yuan (宣和苑), we were treated to the province’s most expensive, richly flavored soup, Buddha Jumps Over the Wall (fó tiào qiáng, 佛跳墙), with generous servings of dried scallops, slippery sea cucumber and delicate shark’s fin. But even with all these options, we had a clear favorite: Fuzhou’s famed oyster tofu soup (hǎilì dòufu tāng, 海蛎豆腐汤), a comforting bowl of cooked oysters, silky tofu and aromatic seasonings. It is light and refreshing—and extraordinarily healthy, too. 

Fuzhou’s famously delicious oyster soup was already one of Allen’s favorite dishes from the region. Whenever he craves a fresh seafood-based soup, he seeks it out at local Fuzhounese restaurants on the East Coast. He also enjoys oyster soup in Manhattan’s Chinatown (where we both currently live) and finds that it’s a favorite with other Fuzhounese Americans. Every year, his non-profit organization, Fuzhou America, hosts a Chinese New Year banquet dinner at Yung Sun, a beloved restaurant on East Broadway. As one of the event’s main organizers, he’s versed in ordering the perfect spread of Fujianese dishes for more than 100 hungry guests. Along with  the staples—sauteed water spinach (kōngxīncài, 空心菜), drunken spareribs with taro (zuì páigǔ, 醉排骨) and red koji with pork belly (hóngzāo ròu, 红糟肉), among many others—he also often orders this crowd-pleasing, homestyle oyster and tofu soup. Mildly briny and extra savory, the soup doesn’t overpower any of the dishes. In fact, it’s the perfect thing to bring the whole meal together. And, fortunately, it’s simple enough that you can make it at home.

Oysters: The Backbone of Fujianese Seafood Dishes

Oysters are the backbone for many traditional Fujianese dishes. According to 閩菜史谈 (Mǐncài Shǐtán or “A Brief History of Fujian Cuisine”), written in 2011, there are more than 100 known species around the globe. China’s coasts are home to more than 20 of them, and Fujian, specifically, is one of the main production areas. Across the province, architects have constructed oyster houses (lì fáng, 蛎房) or oyster hills (háo shān, 蚝山) from stone slabs, bamboo poles and rocks. Liang Zhangju (梁章鉅, 1775–1849), a Qing-dynasty scholar-official and writer from (present-day) Fuzhou, even remarked, “Of all oysters I’ve tasted along the coast, none surpass those farmed in Changle under Luoyang Bridge.”

The oysters in this particular dish also have a fascinating folklore. Allen didn’t grow up knowing the story behind this dish, but after asking some elderly Fujianese, he learned that in old Fuzhou, this dish was traditionally cooked by the bride on the third day after marriage to prove her cooking skills. 豆腐 (dòufu, tofu) sounds like 都有 (dōuyǒu, “all have”), while 蛎 (lì, oyster) sounds like 弟 (dì, younger brother). When put together, a pun forms: “We have many younger brothers,” a wish for fertility and a prosperous household.

But not all oysters are made equal. Especially in a lightly flavored soup such as this one, choosing the proper oysters can mean the difference between delicious pops of brininess and overwhelmingly fishy notes.

When Allen ate oyster tofu soup at home growing up, his parents purchased fresh oysters sold in clear plastic jars. These are typically harvested in Washington State, shucked on site and then shipped to the East Coast. Since they come pre-shucked in the jar, which can hold more than 30 oysters, it seemed like the natural choice for his household budget, a lot of bang for your buck. However, these jarred oysters cannot be eaten raw; you must thoroughly cook them in order for them to be safe to eat.

The thing is, Allen’s not the hugest fan of heavily cooked oysters. Don’t get us wrong, he loves an expertly fried oyster pancake or an extra crispy Fuzhou oyster cake. But when it comes to this particular soup, he prefers his oysters mildly flavored. A few other Fuzhou America (FZA) members agree. FZA member Lily Wang told us that she disliked this soup as a kid due to the chewy texture of cooked oysters, especially since they must be coated with potato starch to create a protective chewy layer and preserve their freshness. Meanwhile, our friend Tommy Lam said his mom fried the oyster in oil to remove some of the strong seafood flavors. Other FZA members enjoy the flavor of the soup with the briny, concentrated oyster juice but generally dislike the pungent taste of cooked oysters. 

Given this feedback from our community, we were determined to find an alternative way to prepare this beloved soup, so that those who might not like over-cooked oysters could make and hopefully enjoy it. 

Ultimately, we decided to experiment with freshly shucked oysters. Jess purchased some from Aquabest, our nearest seafood market, and shucked the bivalves at home with an oyster knife. Since these were perfectly good to eat raw, we didn’t have to cook them through. Their flavor was pleasingly different: Compared to versions of the soup made with jarred oysters, these had a less pungent flavor. (That said, you can absolutely use jarred oysters for this soup, especially if you want to maximize the number of oysters.) 

The Simpler the Soup, the Better the Ingredients Need to Be

Oyster and tofu may be the stars of this dish, but plenty of other ingredients tie it together. And in such a simple soup, every ingredient matters. As you might have guessed, vegetables are also an essential part of this soup. Allen’s family reaches for Chinese celery and scallions for extra freshness and vibrant pops of green; other Fuzhounese families use chives, seaweed knots, bamboo shoots and even cabbage. Allen also personally likes adding purple laver seaweed (zǐcài, 紫菜), a common ingredient in Fujianese cuisine that amps up the dish’s umami. Some contemporary versions of this soup even include crab, which gives the broth a yellow tint from the creamy roe, and colorful seasonings such as chili oil and red vinegar.

When we visited a homestyle cooking (jiāchángcài, 家常菜) restaurant in Fuzhou earlier this year, we were surprised to see crispy bits of lard known as 猪油渣 (zhū yóu zhā), placed atop the soup like golden croutons, adding another savory element to the dish. To prepare these crispy cracklings, the chef told us he first renders chopped up pieces of fat back, saves the crispy bits for the soup topping, and then fries the aromatics and greens in the lard to keep this recipe to one pot. When we began developing this recipe, we absolutely knew that we wanted this signature touch.

Lastly, this soup isn’t complete without a generous helping of sesame oil and white pepper. The Mala Market offers superb versions of both: The sesame oil comes from Shandong, the home of China’s most revered sesame products. When we tell you that the roasted smell is out of this world, you best believe us. Meanwhile, the fermented white pepper comes from Hainan island, the famed source of China’s best white pepper. This white pepper is fragrant and extra funky and, most importantly, helps preserve the clear color of the soup. (Though not used in this recipe, The Mala Market also carries an extra-pure oyster sauce, made in—where else?—Fujian.)

For more delicious soups, try Clarissa’s Winter Melon Soup With Pork Ribs (Dong Gua Paigu Tang,冬瓜排骨汤 ) and Kathy’s Clarified Old Hen Soup (Dunjitang, 炖鸡汤) and Snow Fungus Jujube Dessert Soup (Yin’er Tang, 银耳汤).