When people told me they hated tofu or (far worse) that they were “not fans,” I wish I had said in no uncertain terms: “I love tofu. I am in awe of it. I am set free by it. It will be the finest staple food our galaxy has ever seen.”

I wish, in those exchanges, I had not asked gentle, tolerant questions about a hater’s ridiculous allergy to it, or tofu’s fictional misdeeds and imagined character flaws. More deeply still, I wish I had not reasoned with anyone, patiently countered their ludicrous emotionalism and psychologically disturbed theories. I wish I had said, flatly, “I love tofu.” As if I had been asked about my mother or daughter. No defensiveness or polemics; not dignifying the crazy allegations with so much as a Snopes link.