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Angie's Tempeh
Photograph: Angie's Tempeh

Stinky beans: Why we love fermented soy products in Singapore and where to find them

Beyond a penchant for spice and rice, Asian communities are also bounded by an oft-overlooked ingredient: fermented soy. From past to present, this ancient preparation process perseveres

Fabian Loo
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Fabian Loo
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The benefits of soy have long been enjoyed among Asian communities for millennia. While the Western counterparts turned the legume into animal feed, families in the East have worked the ingredient into their everyday diets. But the history of where, and when, soy first made an appearance remains a modern-day mystery; there is little written evidence documenting the primitive usage of the bean. Early Chinese manuscripts found mentions of soybeans – decreed by the emperor as part of five ‘sacred’ grains – in 2850 BC, while others believed that the first users of soybeans were the early settlers along the Korean Peninsula during the Bronze Age.

No matter the origin story, an outsized appetite for the tiny bean has grown, and countries all around started embracing and consuming, soy. A food journal, History of Fermented Foods in Northeast Asia, penned by Chel-Ho Lee and Moonsil Lee Kim suggested that the popularity of the bean, and in particular its fermented variants, was first brought about by the rise of Buddhism in the region; the religious belief eschews meat consumption for a plant-based diet. The result: a flourishing of salted vegetables and soybean products – from natto and miso in Japan to tempeh in Indonesia.

The art of food preservation and fermentation was also widely believed to be catalysed by growing discoveries in primitive pottery culture. Archaeological findings saw that across cultures, specialised earthenwares were used to brew up different funky concoctions. Vessels known as onggi form the basis of all traditional Korean fermented bean jang, or sauce; and China holds the record for the earliest pottery production over 20,000 years ago, and famously birthed dou chi, or salted black beans that later evolved into the ubiquitous soy sauce.

Above all, fermented soy products were favoured among Asia communities for one pragmatic reason: their ability to extend the shelf life of ingredients. For many ancient households, storing food in pots and leaving them to ferment helped ensure that sustenance was available all year round, particularly so during dry spells and cold weather. That the preservation process aided the development of umami and enhanced flavours was a delicious bonus.

Fermentation and smell, described by those unfamiliar as pungent and rancid, however, are inextricably linked. The preservation process, where microorganisms such as mould break down carbohydrates, often creates funky tastes – and smells. In A Brief History of Fermentation by William Shurtleff and Akiko Aoyagi, they shared that fermented foods are perceived differently in Western and Asian cultures. They said: “In the West, mould-fermented foods are limited primarily to a number of cheeses characterised by their strong flavours and aromas: camembert, blue, brie, and related types … most Westerners still have a deep-seated prejudice against mouldy products, and they generally associate the word "mould" with food spoilage.”

But there seems to be changing stance towards fermented soy products. More are embracing the funk, buoyed in part by the growing trend of meat-free alternatives. Soy, time, and the influence of various cultures have given rise to a myriad of fermented soy products.

Tau cheo
Photograph: Nanyang Sauce

Tau cheo

Often overshadowed by its cousin soy sauce, tau cheo is an equally important pantry staple for many Asian recipes. Yellow soybeans undergo a lengthy fermentation process to develop intense saltiness and umami. Homegrown brand Nanyang Sauce makes its version by leaving the beans in terracotta vats that have been used since the 50s. “This enhances the flavours,” shares third-generation owner Ken Koh. This versatile condiment can be found in different local cultures, too. According to Koh, the Peranakans cook it with pork, Teochews have it with their porridge, and Cantonese cuisine often sees it as a topping for steamed fish. “We use tau cheo in many of our home-cooked dishes,” he adds. “Reminds me of home.”

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Just its name itself spells trouble: chou dou fu, which translates to stinky beancurd. The foul-smelling product is a popular Chinese street snack. At Mini Star (HK) Fermented Beancurd, the store soaks blocks of beancurd in a special brine that includes milk, herbs, and spices, then deep-fried till golden brown before serving. Acrid aroma aside, the beancurd makes for an addictive treat for the brave.

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Tempeh
Photograph: Angie's Tempeh

Tempeh

Essentially a soybean ‘cake’, tempeh is a traditional Indonesian staple where the beans come inoculated with a starter culture (a fungus known as rhizopus oligosporus). Under warm temperatures, mycelium is formed, creating fibres that bind the mixture together. Angie’s Tempeh is a homegrown brand that specialises in this plant-based protein, crafted using GMO-free beans. While classic recipes call for soy ($8), modern tempeh makers like Angie’s have introduced chickpea ($10) and buckwheat ($10) into the mix.

Cheonggukjang
Photograph: Pixabay

Cheonggukjang

Fermentation has long been celebrated in Korean cuisine; jang is a catch-all term that captures the colourful variety of sauces and pastes, often made using traditional fermentation processes. Most might be familiar with the popular doenjang (soybean paste) and gochujang (red pepper paste), but cheonggukjang, loaded with funk and flavour, packs even more punch. The ancient condiment has been around for over 2,000 years. A combination of ground and whole soybeans are left to ferment with bacillus subtilis, a bacteria strain, for a few days, to develop its characteristic pungent smell, likened by some to stinky socks. But get past its stench, and a nutty, salty, and creamy condiment awaits. Throw it in a stew with tofu, kimchi, and chillies. The condiment can be found on e-tailer platforms including Shopee

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Natto
Photograph: Pixabay

Natto

Using bacillus subtilis in the Japanese context yields the creation of natto, a slimy whole-bean side dish that is commonly served atop rice. An acquired delicacy to most, natto has to be first whipped and stirred to bring out its string-like texture. Some have likened the dish to smell like old cheese or socks, but fans will be quick to point out the natty tastes much better than it smells, with health benefits to boot. Pick up a pack or two from Japanese grocers that include Don Don Donki or Meidi-Ya, or have it rolled into gunkan at Genki Sushi outlets.

Other stinky food

Durian and tempoyak
Photograph: Shutterstock

Durian and tempoyak

The thorny fruit already has a (bad) reputation of being the stinkiest fruit in the world. But what happens when the pungent flesh is left to ferment? The result is a doubly smelly condiment, known as tempoyak. Used in Malaysia and Indonesia cuisine, the sauce was first developed as means to preserve durians of poor quality. But the result is like chilli sauce on steroids – funky, fiery, and full of flavour. Try the sauce with your spice-scented meal at Nusantara Singapore.

Petai beans
Photograph: Quentin’s The Eurasian Restaurant

Petai beans

Less controversial, but still equally smelly is the stink bean. It’s an ingredient that is widely consumed in Southeast Asia, and has an odour that lingers: First, it attacks the nose. Then, its sulphuric stench makes a comeback when discharged as urine. Still, many adore the bean, especially when it is tossed with piquant sambal, red and spicy – a dish that is best enjoyed with rice, and commonly served in Nonya restaurants that include The Peranakan and Quentin’s The Eurasian Restaurant, or your neighbourhood zi char eatery.

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Century eggs
Photograph: Tim Ho Wan

Century eggs

On the milder end of the nose-twitching spectrum: century eggs. No, these black orbs are not left to ferment for over a hundred years. They are, however, eggs that have been left to process with a mixture of clay, salt, rice hulls, and more, till the white turns brown and the yolk turns grey. The process develops an earthy flavour, and unfortunately an ammonia-like smell as well. Still, the jelly consistency makes for a great addition to Chinese-style porridge (Sin Heng Kee and Tim Ho Wan makes great versions of the dish) or blended into sauce in the Japanese-influenced pitan tofu which can be sampled at The Sushi Bar and Koh Sushi and Grill

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