The Season for Cold-Brewed Miso
"Daikan," or "Great Cold," is said to be the coldest time of the year. This year, January 20th was exactly Daikan.
With low temperatures and fewer bacteria, this season is ideal for making miso. Miso prepared during this "cold brewing" period is said to ferment slowly and develop a richer flavor. There's even a tradition that miso made on Daikan turns out to be the best, and since my work schedule aligned this year, I decided to go ahead with "Daikan brewing" on this auspicious day.
This is my second time making miso. The first time was two winters ago.
Last time, I used a food processor to make a smooth paste, but this time, I wanted to "enjoy more of the soybean texture" and create a miso with a different flavor, so I decided to use a "mortar and pestle."
This is my record of making miso.
Day 1: Preparing the Soybeans
The ingredients for miso are very simple: soybeans, rice koji, and salt. It's always a mystery to me how such simple ingredients can create such depth and richness. The unseen power of fermentation always amazes me.
Day one of making miso begins with preparing the soybeans. First, wash them thoroughly until the water runs clear, then drain them in a colander.
Transfer the washed soybeans to a large pot, pour in plenty of water, and let them soak for about 18 hours.
I say, "Please rehydrate deliciously," and thus begins the quiet soaking time.
Day 2: Kitchen filled with the aroma of soybeans
The next day, the soybeans had absorbed plenty of water and swelled up to more than double their original size. Their shape changed from round to plump ovals. Their surface was shiny, and they had a fresh plumpness from within. Now, the real miso making begins.
Boiling the Soybeans
Peeking into the pot, I saw that the water level had significantly dropped thanks to the soybeans absorbing plenty of water. This flavorful soaking liquid is not discarded; instead, it's used directly for boiling. Since there wasn't quite enough water, I added more until the beans were fully submerged, then turned on the stove.
As it came to a boil, fluffy white foam covered the surface of the pot. Surprised by how much scum appeared, I carefully skimmed it off and reduced the heat to prevent it from boiling over.
Simmer, simmer.
Along with the faint sound of beans dancing in the pot, a sweet, rich aroma filled the room.
Three and a half hours after starting the boil.
I took a single bean from the pot and pinched it with my fingers. "Squish." It was easily crushed without much effort. When I tasted it, it was fluffy and had a gentle sweetness, perfectly boiled.
Mashing the Soybeans
We move on to mashing before they cool completely. Here, the mortar and pestle make their entrance.
If it were two years ago, using a food processor would have finished this process in a blink of an eye with just one switch, but there's something nice about taking the time to face it with your own hands.
When I started, the soybeans kept slipping away, and it was a bit challenging at first, but I gradually got the hang of it and was able to work rhythmically.
Instead of making a complete paste, I aimed for a "coarsely crushed" texture, intentionally leaving some texture, and just kept working my hands. My mind cleared of杂念 (distractions), and focusing solely on the beans in front of me felt like a form of meditation.
Preparing the Salted Koji
Once the soybean cooking liquid has cooled to below 60 degrees Celsius, it's time to prepare the salted koji.
Pour the reserved cooking liquid over the rice koji to allow it to absorb moisture. The dried koji absorbed the water, plumped up slightly, and released its unique sweet aroma.
Mixing tirelessly
Once the soybeans and salted koji are ready, it's time to combine them.
First, roughly mix with a spatula, then once somewhat combined, it's time to use your bare hands.
While wishing "May it be delicious," I kneaded the entire mixture evenly, but this task was indeed the most laborious. Although I'm only making a small amount, I deeply respect those who prepare tens of kilograms of miso at once.
The goal is a consistency like an earlobe.
However, the coarsely crushed soybeans seemed to take longer to absorb the moisture, and they weren't coming together easily.
I kneaded and kneaded with my body weight.
Folding the dough in the bowl and pressing it with the heel of my hand. It was just like kneading bread.
Eventually, the dough became moist and smooth, and when I touched it with my fingertips, it had that "earlobe" feel I was aiming for.
Making Miso Balls
The kneaded miso is not put directly into the container, but first formed into "miso balls."
Squeeze them firmly with both hands to remove air, rolling them into balls about the size of a baseball. The lined-up miso balls are so adorable. This extra step is important for making it easier to remove air when packing them into the container.
Packing into the crock
Finally, I pack the miso balls into the container.
"Hooray!" I threw them in, mimicking what I'd seen others do, but since I don't usually do such things, I chuckled a bit at my own awkwardness. I pressed the thrown miso balls down further to remove air and smoothed the surface. Carefully, carefully, so as not to create an entry point for bacteria.
Then, I sprinkled salt on the surface to prevent mold and gave it a quick spray with food-grade alcohol. I sealed it tightly with plastic wrap to block out air.
I put the lid on, wrote down the date, and the miso preparation was complete for now.
Until it Matures Deliciously
I decided to leave the freshly made miso in a corner of the kitchen.
It's best to keep it in a well-ventilated place away from direct sunlight, and absolutely no refrigeration. Over the warmth of spring and the humidity of the rainy season, microorganisms will slowly carry out the fermentation. While I have concerns about mold and the saltiness, for now, all I can do is trust and wait.
They say it's ready to eat in six months to a year, but perhaps around the eighth month, when the umami has deepened, will be just right. Eating miso that has gone through one summer, with a crunchy cucumber. Just imagining it makes my mouth water.
In six months, I'll nervously open the lid, and I'll report back here on that day. May it mature deliciously.
