Miso

A dish that harnesses the complexity of miso to make a simple, quick, and highly flavored appetizer.

“Real” Miso Soup is a little more complicated than this quick version, which begins with dashi, a basic Japanese stock made with kelp (kombu) and flakes of dried bonito (a relative of tuna). Although dashi has definite character and is easy enough to make, it is a light stock, pretty much overpowered by the miso anyway. So I just whisk or blend a tablespoon of miso into a cup of water and put my energy into turning the soup into a meal, adding cubed tofu and a couple of vegetables at the last moment. If you don’t find tofu alluring, you might throw some shrimp or boneless chicken into the soup, where either will cook in a couple of minutes. The only trick lies in getting the miso to dissolve properly, creating a smooth, almost creamy soup rather than a lumpy one. But this is in fact a snap: you just whisk or blend the miso with a few tablespoons of hot water before adding the rest of the liquid. Any cooking from that point on must be gentle to preserve the miso’s flavor and aroma.

Tenderloin—most commonly sold as filet mignon—has just about the least flavor of any cut of beef, but it is wonderfully tender and juicy, and it sure takes well to this sauce, which everyone seems to love. I’m not usually a big fan of long marinating periods, but here it seems to make a big difference; the miso completely changes the flavor of the meat in a spectacular way. I grill these, but you can broil the meat or roast it at 500°F for just a few minutes. (In any case, cook until the interior of the meat is about 125°F.) Other cuts of meat you can use here: ribeye; pork tenderloin, cut into medallions as you would the filet.

This is a very fast and almost equally flavorful relative of Kalbi Jim (page 388). If you cannot find go chu jang, the chili-bean paste sold in Korean markets, substitute a couple of tablespoons of good miso and add more hot red pepper flakes to taste. All you need to complete this meal is white rice. Other cuts of meat you can use here: boneless pork, preferably from the shoulder or leg (fresh ham); boneless chicken thighs.

This is a more complicated use of miso, useful not only for fish but for meat (just substitute tenderloin for the tuna). I learned it from Japanese-born chef Tadashi Ono, who now lives in New York. His dual lives encouraged Ono to take a few liberties of the type that few would take in Japan, with a classic sauce like this one; but if this is fusion cooking, it’s the good kind. The Japanese chili paste called tohbanjan is strictly traditional here, but you can use Vietnamese or Korean chili paste or simply cayenne. I love this with Basmati Rice with Shiso (page 510).

The Japanese not only love eggplant; they also produce some of the best—the slender, long, lavender-colored varieties are sweeter and firmer than the fat, almost black ones. Here the skinny ones are essential. Make this up to an hour in advance; like many eggplant dishes, it’s good at room temperature. Or make in advance and run under the broiler to reheat, until the miso topping bubbles (reserve the sesame seeds until after you do this).

Black cod, a Pacific fish also known as sable, is treasured in Japan (and at elite Japanese restaurants here) for its richness and slightly smoky flavor. With miso it is astonishingly delicious. (Mackerel is not the same but still very good.) Use white (it’s actually beige) miso if you can find it. As is common before cooking many types of fish in Japan, this is salted to firm up the flesh; you can skip this step if you prefer. This is not a super-saucy dish, but well-made short-grain rice (page 507) is still a good accompaniment, as would be any salad.

The usefulness of miso is nearly unlimited, and it can convert the simplest of ingredients into an exotic dish, a secret of much of Japanese cooking. Here the fermented soybean paste is combined with scallops and a little seasoning, then allowed to sit for a while before being grilled or broiled. It’s a traditional dish, in some parts of Japan the home-cooking equivalent of slathering something with barbecue sauce before cooking. For ease of use and strict authenticity, the miso should be thinned—it’s too thick to use straight—with mirin, the sweet, golden-colored wine made from rice (and Japan’s most important sweetener before the introduction of white sugar). Mirin, too, comes in a naturally brewed form called hon-mirin; it’s preferable to aji-mirin, which may be boosted with corn syrup; check the label. But the amount of mirin is so small, and its flavor in this dish so subtle, that you can use a fruity, sweet white wine in its place or even honey. If you can, try this with Asparagus Salad with Soy-Mustard Dressing (page 190) or a plain salad. And a bit of short-grain rice, of course.

Green beans (or almost any other vegetable for that matter) gain an exciting twist from this miso-based dressing. You can find miso (see page 123) at well-stocked supermarkets and Asian markets; red miso (which is actually brown) is most often used in this dressing, but you can also use white. If you cannot find miso, see the variation, which is worth trying in any case.

One of the few recipes in which eggplant is boiled. It’s an unusual preparation, and a good one, but you can also sauté it, as in Sautéed Eggplant (page 456). Small eggplants are almost always preferable to large ones, and the Japanese know this better than anyone; you don’t even see large eggplants there. (If you must use a larger eggplant, try to get a very firm one, which will have fewer seeds.) Typically, this is made with wasabi powder; but I had it prepared with Dijon mustard in Japan, so I consider this version perfectly legitimate.

This is just about the best crab soup I have ever tasted, and it’s also the easiest. (One of the messiest, too; you must eat the crab with your hands.) At its base is miso, combined with go chu jang, a red pepper paste mixed with beans, kind of a spicy version of hoisin sauce. If you live anywhere near a Korean market, you’ll find it; if not, use hoisin mixed with Tabasco. Buy the crabs live and have them cleaned and chopped up by the fishmonger. Or follow the directions for cleaning them in step 1.

I love this over pasta, but it’s also good used as you would salsa, hot or cold: over grilled or poached fish, meat, or poultry, or even as a dip. Be sure, one day, to try the Spanish version (page 606).

Every culture that grows peppers grills them, and the people who eat them always swear “they’re not that hot.” Well, in Japan, not only are they not that hot, they are often sautéed; and only in Japan are they sauced with miso. Use mild long green chiles like Anaheims or—if you can find them—mild long red chiles, and you’ll come pretty close to duplicating the original.

Miso is a common ingredient in vegan versions of cheesey recipes, because it helps make up for the sharp complexity that’s missing without any dairy products. I love cheese too much to ever leave it out, so why choose? Combining the two together, and adding mushrooms, makes for a powerfully flavored dish that packs a punch of umami. This is a light dinner for one that you can bulk up with a salad.

You could probably use any finely ground dried chile for this, but I like the mixed ground seasoning known as nanami togarashi. Togarashi is simply the Japanese term for red chile, but this one is blended with orange peel, sesame seeds, and ginger. It has a slight grittiness that works well with the silky softness of the eggplant. You can find it in any Japanese market. Get the yellow miso, by the way, not the darker and substantially saltier one. Small eggplants are best for this, available from Chinese and Asian markets.

Shiso, also known as “beefsteak plant,” is a pungent, wild-tasting herb native to North America but typically sold only in Japanese markets. Often served with sushi, shiso is essential here for bringing the flavor of the fish to life. Dry sake served cold rounds out this dish well.

This pretty scarlet salad is enhanced by dulse (shown opposite), a sea vegetable with a rich, meaty taste—try toasted dulse in place of bacon in a DLT! Several eco-friendly companies along the North American Atlantic coast harvest dulse by hand in small boats, dry it outside, and sell it with minimal packaging. When toasting dulse, pass it back and forth a few times over a flame and then let it cool. The texture should be crisp and crackly. If the dulse is still soft, repeat this process until it breaks up easily. Toasting it gently and gradually prevents burning.

This brothy, colorful soup is a potent tonic that will cure what ails you. Miso paste, made from fermented soybeans, is an essential component of Japanese cuisine. As with yogurt and other fermented products, miso is most beneficial uncooked, so stir it into the soup only after turning off the heat. Wakame is a mild-tasting green sea vegetable most commonly used in the traditional miso soup that accompanies sushi. Burdock root (shown below) has a texture reminiscent of water chestnuts. It grows wild throughout the United States and can also be found in Japanese markets. After slicing burdock root, soak it in cold water to prevent it from turning brown. If burdock root isn’t available, simply use more of the other vegetables.

What I love about this recipe is how well fresh Italian pasta works combined with these Asian flavors. It’s a true crossover dish, the pasta adding wonderful flavor and texture to the earthy and spicy notes in the sauce. Pork and eggplant is a natural combination that reminds me of Sichuan cuisine. Chinese eggplants, by the way, have a delicate skin, so when you peel them you can leave on some strips of skin for aesthetic purposes. This stir-fried dish is unwieldy to cook for four servings, so prepare it in two batches.