My Japanese grandparents lived in an area with many Buddhist temples (where meat is not eaten) so they were spoiled for choice when it came to fresh tofu shops on their street. I remember those old fashioned shops – spartan, concrete floors and stainless steel vats of water holding the morning’s just-made tofu, and the a smiling old woman selling them, but I especially remember my grandmother’s breakfasts of hiyayyako or chilled, fresh tofu, simply dressed with soy sauce and grated ginger.