We had heard a rumor that sometimes still, on early mornings, in certain countrysides a "tofu man" rides a little cart around selling tof (as the locals say) much as he and his ancestors have done for centuries. How would you know it's really him? we ask, hearing it as folklore and turning him mythical. Well, there is a call he makes, a whistle sort of; a sound that has remained unchanged through time and remarkably gets reported consistently no matter who we may ask. (Getting straight or consistent answers from Japanese people is something I gave up on shortly after I arrived.) The old ones told us it's a whistle of 2 notes which sounds very much like if you were to sing softly and melodically the word itself. The first note is lower and held longer: to---Fu! For personal amusement, we asked a number of students, proposing to each as if they were the first we'd ever consider turning to for such top-secret information. Each would sing the 2 little notes for us, failing to see the curiosity but happy to amuse us. The tofu man is an understated given in Japanese culture. Though now, in the relatively recent days of widespread refrigeration he has become somewhat outdated and forgotten. Sadly, the solitary tofu peddler is becoming obsolete and his sound may be becoming somewhat a thing of the past...

For months Andrew and I kinda joked about "the sound of tofu" and wondered if other foods had sounds. We tried out a few. Eventually, like all jokes, we sort of forgot about it and moved on to others.

Last month while exploring the vast and varied emporium of Japanese foodstuffs in the very early morning at Tsukiji Fish Market in Tokyo, we were stopped in our soaking wet tracks by a sound. Walking down the endless narrow isles, lost a little in our own thoughts, our bellies full of raw fish and a little down due to the relentless freezing rain, we both stopped and in an instant, looked at each other, simultaneously, "I know that sound!" And then a moment later, eyes wide, "Tofu Man!" Sure enough, we recognized, in it's authenticity, that lonely melancholy whistle we'd heard imitated so many times. There in Tsukiji we found what we weren't even sure we were looking for, the Tofu Man! And this was some gem of a Tofu Man too. Youthful and so bright, suddenly it seemed the sun was shining on us! It was like the clouds parted, this guy had the shinning, peaceful face of a slender Buddha in an all white outfit. Instantly, we gravitated to him. He was all smiles and light, contrasting more than a little with the truly blue sound of his call. He gave us delicious and fresh samples, talked a little with Andrew in Japanese as I stood by, sheer awe all over my face. Andrew, who was at the time in a hearty making-tofu-from-scratch phase tried to get some tips from the man whose family has likely been making the wonder food for ages but in true Japanese fashion the man blithely and nimbly avoiding giving him any real information; smiling and winking like Santa Claus would if you asked him how he did it. He did tell us that they used water from Shizuoka (where we live!) because it's the purest in all of Japan. The energy and beauty of this man! Had we been closer to home, undoubtedly we would have bought a healthy supply. We wanted to stick around but we really had very little to say (maybe not cool: we worship the idea of you and would you be our leader?!) and understandably the man was not as interested in us as we were him; though he was friendly and polite he soon had had other customers to attend to. Before leaving though, we noticed and bought one each of the little souvenir tofu whistles he had for sale. To---Fu!