A Simple, Timeless Tofu Classic

Last year, during a food-focused family trip, my parents, aunt, grandma and I traveled 100 miles south of Chengdu to Xiba (西坝), a small town renowned for its traditional handmade tofu. Walking through the old streets, we were surrounded by the sights of tofu everywhere: casual eateries with giant woks of freshly made tofu; locals enjoying delicate nigari tofu pudding (douhua) dipped in spicy sauce on the streetside; street vendors selling golden fried tofu triangles stuffed with daikon radish slaw drizzled with sweet vinegar. 

For lunch, we visited Fangde Tofu Restaurant (Fāngdé Dòufuzhuāng, 方德豆腐庄), a two-story restaurant specializing in tofu banquets. Sitting at a table covered with a simple plastic cover, we relied on our waiter’s suggestions to order from a dizzying array of dishes, all starring tofu as the main ingredient. We indulged in “golden crab” tofu stew made with salted egg yolk (xièhuáng dòufu, 蟹黄豆腐), tender tofu balls steeped in broth and topped with shredded chicken (xiùqiú dòufu, 绣球豆腐) and deep-fried, donut-like tofu puffs (niàng dòufu, 釀豆腐) in a sweet-and-sour sauce. The meal was a lesson on the beauty and versatility of tofu—its textures, flavors and limitless possibilities.

Back home in Germany, though the selection of tofu is less extravagant and my skills fall short of the Xiba chefs’, tofu is also a mainstay in my kitchen, thanks to its versatility and affordability. One simple dish I make on repeat is Sichuan-style home-style tofu (jiācháng dòufu, 家常豆腐), pan-fried tofu served in a savory, starchy sauce made with Pixian doubanjiang. But recently, I’ve fallen for another version of the dish: Hunan pan-fried tofu with black bean sauce (jiāxiāng dòufu,家乡豆腐).

A Time-Tested Way of Preparing Tofu

Pan-frying is believed to be one of the oldest ways to prepare tofu in China, with origins tracing back to the Song Dynasty. The famous poet Su Shi (苏轼) wrote, “Fry tofu in soybean oil gives it flavors.” Over time, this simple technique evolved into a dish known as southern-style pan-fried tofu (nánjiān dòufu, 南煎豆腐) or “double-sided yellow” (èr miàn huáng, 二面黄) and also inspired countless regional variations. 

Wang Zengqi (汪曾祺), a beloved food essayist of the last century, details the method in one of his essays: “Fry the firm tofu until a thin crust forms, then remove it from the pan. Sauté pork slices with scallions, ginger, soy sauce and white sugar. Add pork broth, bring to a simmer and let the tofu braise in the sauce until it thickens.” To elevate the dish, Wang describes adding shiitake mushrooms, dried shrimp, fresh chili and fermented black beans—creating a dish he calls “hometown tofu” (jiāxiāng dòufu, 家乡豆腐).

This dish resembles what I know as home-style tofu, yet I’ve learned this interpretation is also popular in Hunan. I reached out to my friend Huidan, originally from Changsha, to ask about it. She told me the dish is also known as jiachang doufu in her hometown, and it is made with locally produced douchi from Liuyang (浏阳) along with fresh, fiery xiao mi la red chili peppers. I find it fascinating that the term “home-style” means something different to everyone, reflecting the unique regional produce and cooking traditions of each area. In Sichuan, home-style tofu emphasizes the flavors of fermented fava beans and fermented chilies (in doubanjiang), while in Hunan, it showcases the vibrance of fermented soybean with fresh chilis. When I recreated Hunan’s pan-fried tofu with black bean sauce in my own kitchen—omitting the shrimp to keep it vegetarian—it was slightly different from the Sichuan rendition I know and love yet equally delightful, a blend of savory, umami and spicy flavors. 

Pan-Fried Tofu With Black Bean’s Star Ingredient: Douchi

In pan-fried tofu with black bean sauce, the star of the sauce is dòuchǐ (豆豉), fermented soybeans prized for their savory and umami-rich flavor. In Sichuan, douchi is typically made from yellow soybeans while in regions like in Hunan or Guangdong, people use black soybeans (黑豆, hēidòu), a variety of soybean that produces black beans that some cooks note are creamier than the yellow variety. In either case, once the soybeans have fermented they turn a deep black color—hence the English name for them. In this recipe, and in most others, they can be used interchangeably.

As one of the earliest seasonings used in Chinese cooking, these humble yet magical beans have flavored dishes for millennia and their history stretches back to the Qin Dynasty—even before the invention of soy sauce. Douchi is commonly found in southern regions such as Sichuan, Jiangxi and Hunan and sometimes can be a standalone condiment to serve with rice. You may know douchi as an ingredient for mapo tofu or the black bean sauce used to flavor Cantonese dim sum dishes, but its use in tofu recipes dates back even further. The 18th-century cookbook Recipes From the Garden of Contentment (随园食单) by Yuan Mei mentions a dish called Qingyuan Doufu (庆元豆腐), in which tofu is cooked with a teacup of soaked douchi.

How to Pan-Fry Tofu

For me, the beauty of pan-fried tofu lies in the contrast of textures: a golden crust that absorbs the sauce and a tender interior that melts in your mouth. Contrary to what you may read in many tofu guides, pressing tofu isn’t necessary here (or advisable); you’ll want to retain the tofu’s natural moisture to keep the inside soft. 

This dish is best made with firm tofu. (Extra-firm tofu or pre-fried tofu blocks can also be used, but these will yield a chewier texture.) After removing it from the package, drain it well and pat it dry with paper towels. This prevents splattering during frying and ensures better browning. 

A non-stick pan is the most beginner-friendly choice for frying the tofu, but if you’re using a wok or a carbon steel pan, like I do, employ the “hot wok, cold oil” method: heat the pan until very hot, lower the heat, then add the oil and tofu immediately. Arrange the tofu slices in a single layer with space between each piece, and resist the urge to turn them frequently. Fry the tofu undisturbed over medium heat until it is golden brown on the bottom; once the tofu releases naturally from the pan, it’s ready to flip.

This recipe is flexible, allowing you to adapt the sauce. Instead of the chili, douchi and shiitake mushroom combination I have here, you could opt for a Sichuan-style variation by using doubanjiang or create a milder version with fermented soybean paste (huang dou jiang). If you find fresh red chili too aggressively hot, consider swapping it for dried Chinese chili such as Sichuan er jing tiao.

For more delicious dishes with tofu as the star, try Kathy’s Foolproof Sichuan Tofu Pudding (Douhua, 豆花), Taylor’s Queen of Mapo Doufu Recipes (Mapo Tofu) and Zoe and Iris’ Yangzhou Dazhu Gansi (Simmered Tofu Noodles, 大煮干丝).