“Nobody ever said, ‘I could murder a nice juicy lump of tofu’” Credit: Visual China Group via Getty Images/Visual China Group via Getty Images

Planning the Christmas lunch yet? If you are vegan you’ve doubtless got tofu in there somewhere, perhaps served up with a sauce made piquant with a tablespoon of smugness. After all, going “plant-based” will save the planet from climate change, whereas we meat-eating ignorati are murdering you, and nature, and the air we breathe. Britain’s very own Climate Tsar, Alok Sharma, when asked on BBC Newscast recently about his family’s personal contribution to fighting global warming, flailed around before playing the get-out-of-jail-free, no-meat card.
Is it not curious how carnivorism is subject to endless negative news and analysis, whereas the same rules do not apply to vegan food? As a keeper of livestock in sustainable, ethical, regenerative farming systems, may I say I find it hypocritical to be lectured by those who fly on polluting jets to Egypt, Mexico, Peru and other places I will never see? Has the COP jamboree not discovered Zoom yet? So, for once, let us turn the dinner tables, put vegan food under the knife and fork, and examine its impact on the environment. Where better to start than with tofu?
An ancient, soya-based ingredient in Asian cuisine, tofu came to the West with stoned returning hippies, and was an obscure item in Whole Food shops until the early 21st century, when it started to appear on the shelves of every middle-class supermarket as the meat-free, climate-healing superfood. Suella Braverman’s recent rant about “Guardian-reading, tofu-eating wokerati” was not without its truth; tofu is as much a right-on political choice as a potential ingredient in tonight’s family dinner.
Tofu, for those unacquainted with the stuff, is curd made from soybeans that have been soaked in large tanks and churned into a slush, which is then heated, filtered and coagulated into slabs, before being chopped up, packaged, and pasteurised. All these steps require a lot of carbon dioxide-emitting energy.
The amount of soybeans grown in the UK is negligible (3,000 tons in 2019: our isles are insufficiently warm for the crop), meaning the soybeans imported for any national tofu-maker come with enough travel miles to get them from Japan, say, or the US. The Tofoo Co. might come over all artisanal — their tofu is made “int Yorkshire”, as they declare on their website — but the raw product is shipped from Canada and Italy.
Then you have the packaging. Tofu is sloppy, wet stuff, invariably sold wrapped in thick plastic you could use as kids’ shoes at the beach. Selflessly, your author, in the interests of “method research”, ate 200g of Bjorg smoked tofu; the plastic packing weighed 10g, actually measurable on analogue kitchen scales.
The Tofoo Co., meanwhile, earnestly informs us: “We don’t pack ours in a ready meal tray in water (the only other way we know tofu can be packed) as we think thermoforming gives a MUCH BETTER, less soggy product, that is ready to eat.” (Amusing, no? They admit tofu is inevtiably soggy, even if you can get less soggy versions.) But “thermoform packaging”, lovely as it sounds, is plastic, and plastic is derived from fossil fuels. The production process involves heating plastic until it is pliable — can you imagine the kilowats of energy required? And extraordinarily, you cannot recycle Tofoo’s wrapping.
Join the discussion
Join like minded readers that support our journalism by becoming a paid subscriber
To join the discussion in the comments, become a paid subscriber.
Join like minded readers that support our journalism, read unlimited articles and enjoy other subscriber-only benefits.
Subscribe