Invisible Life

I prepared miso.

The soybeans are steamed and mixed with koji, and the soybeans are crushed by hand while mixing well with the koji.

This monotonous and repetitive work is pleasant.

A quiet time to think about nothing and just face the soybeans and koji.

Nine months have passed since then, and I decided to open the miso tub that I had completely forgotten about.

There was also the smell of miso and the wood of the miso barrel.

Apparently, the wooden scent of this miso barrel only lasts for the first year .

An indescribably precious moment.

The miso is much darker in color than when it was first made and is packed with flavor.

I immediately tried it with walnuts.

It's perfect as a snack with alcohol or as a rice ball filling.

I'll also try making miso soup.

Even if the broth isn't well-brewed, this miso somehow tastes delicious.

 

When I told my father about making miso, he told me that his mother also used to make miso and soy sauce as a matter of course.

I heard that controlling the temperature to allow the koji mold to work effectively and ferment was particularly difficult.

It may have been difficult for my grandmother, but I'm sure it tastes better than the soy sauce and miso we have today.

 What makes miso and soy sauce so delicious is koji mold.

This koji mold is known as Japan's national mold and is an essential part of the Japanese diet.

 

Koji is not just an ingredient; Japanese people have always treated it like a living thing, something that needs to be "grown" just like their grandmothers used to.

I can't help but feel that the time and effort that goes into growing the koji, as well as the passion of the person who makes it, is conveyed to the koji.

Living with microorganisms means believing in and nurturing invisible life.

I believe that living with koji is the very essence of the spirit of harmony with nature.