When I was in Grade 4, I made up a skipping rhyme about tofu for a creative writing assignment.
Growing up in what was then a very German Kitchener, no one in my class knew what tofu was. I had the unfortunate experience of trying the stuff when my mom brought some home from a night course she was taking at OISE for her master’s degree. Her professor was a hippie who treated his students to a vegan meal at the end of the term. My mom got the leftovers.
Among them was tofu and seaweed stew, which made my nose wrinkle. I had never heard of tofu and seaweed conjured images of the slimy stuff that harboured all kinds of mysterious underwater life in the lake at our cottage. —Continue reading—