Christopher Hirst: It's enough to make you want to hit the sauce

I've just checked in our kitchen cupboard and discovered that we possess no fewer than nine bottles of soy sauce. All come from China or Japan and range in size from a jeroboam of Pearl River Bridge brand to a tiny phial of Mitsukan Citrus-Seasoned soy sauce. In consistency, they vary from light soy sauce – the elixir that transforms a fragment of sushi into the food of the gods – to miso, a sludge-like compound that is a vital accompaniment for Peking Duck. The labels bear lists of ingredients – one starts "water, soy sauce", which is less than informative – and "best before" dates of varying degrees of antiquity. What none of the bottles carries is a health warning.

This may soon become a requirement following an announcement by the Food Standards Agency. It has analysed soy sauces and discovered that certain brands imported from Thailand, China, Taiwan and Hong Kong contain high levels of a cancer-linked chemical called 3-MCPD. The brands in question include such glittering names as Golden Mountain, Golden Mark, Golden Swan and, that stalwart of our stock cupboard, Pearl River Bridge. The advice from the Food Standards Agency is that we should throw economy to the winds and chuck out these dubious condiments. Actually, that might not be a bad idea with the Pearl River Bridge, which has remained unopened and gathering dust since I snapped it up a decade ago from a Chinese supermarket in a moment of misplaced economy.

The odd thing about the Food Standards Agency's discovery is that lovers of Oriental cuisine have been happily squirting soy sauce over their crispy belly pork and Sichuan dumplings for donkey's years without any apparent ill effect. Speaking in defence of soy sauce, Ken Hom pointed out that his 92-year-old aunt has guzzled the stuff every day and is "still as hearty as ever". The chef's particular favourite brand is called Lee Kum Kee, which he claims "has a light taste, like drinking claret".

Personally, I don't think I'll try splatting Lynch-Barges '88 on my sweet-and-sour crispy won-tons but Mr Hom's analogy is not too outlandish. As every schoolboy knows, soy sauce is produced by fermentation. Never mind about 3-MCPD, even the best quality soy sauce contains the moulds Aspergillus oryzae and Aspergillus soyae. Soya beans (they are named after the sauce, not the other way round) are mixed together with these whiffy cultures and left to fester for up to 12 months before being filtered and bottled. That's an appetising conversational tit-bit to divulge to your dining companions while they're saucing the Singapore fried noodles.

I'm sure Mr Hom is right about soy sauce. I don't intend curbing my intake of this murky gastronomic catalyst, though my enthusiasm does not extend to essaying Mr Hom's recipe for soy sauce chicken, which demands a full two pints of the stuff. Still, if you find yourself eyeing the soy sauce bottle with suspicion, there are no shortage of fine English substitutes, such as Worcester sauce, though this was originally an Indian recipe acquired by Messrs Lea & Perrins.

Or there's HP sauce. What could be more English than that? Except that, until a few years ago, it was described on the formerly bilingual label as "un mélange des fruits orientaux".

But HP sauce is healthy enough compared to the noxious brews from the Far East, isn't it? True enough, though it's worth bearing in mind that the Brummy condiment is the favourite splat of Keith Richards. After his spell on heroin, succeeded by his taste for Rebel Yell bourbon, the ageing Stone has really hit the sauce. He never travels without a case of HP and has often been photographed smiling at the bottle in a meaningful way. If it's all that good for you, why should rock's greatest rouè be addicted to this mysterious mélange from the Midlands?