Bio

I threw out the first two containers of miso I bought because they didn't smell right.

I knew miso was fermented. But how do you know when fermented goes bad?

Yet I bought more, somehow knowing miso, Japanese fermented soybean paste, is a great flavor enhancer for all kinds of dishes. I had enjoyed it in restaurants. Miso soup is a favorite, as is miso-grilled eggplant. Yet straight from the tub it was a different beast.

I soldiered on, determined to understand miso inside and out. I uncovered many recipes and chefs that use it in unsuspecting ways, not just in traditional Japanese cooking. While its range of styles and flavors can be overwhelming for the novice, there's something compelling about what miso can bring to a dish.

Miso is high in umami, the fifth basic taste often described as savoriness. It adds complexity and intensity to many dishes the way chicken stock, fish sauce and Parmesan cheese do. A little miso makes even a light dish satisfying and fulfilling. Unlike cheese, miso provides a lot of umami without a lot of added calories. Plus, it contains the same beneficial lacto bacteria found in natural yogurt.

Tastes good and good for you -- if only it didn't smell like dirty gym socks.

In my quest to make the most of miso, I turned to Ayaka Iino, who teaches Japanese cooking classes in the East Bay. (Visit www.ayakoiino.com for information.) "Mellow it by adding egg yolk or sugar or by heating it up slightly," she told me.

Iino knows miso. In a recent class on Japanese sauces and seasonings, Iino had her students taste half a dozen varieties of miso side by side, without food. The light versions still tasted objectionable to me, but the others were all appealing. Undoubtedly the best one was Iino's mother's homemade miso. I think I'm finally hooked.

Iino grew up on a farm in Japan, cooked at Oliveto Restaurant in Oakland for several years, and searches out farm-fresh seasonal ingredients for her own cooking. Still, she says the soybeans she's found aren't good enough for her to make her own miso, as she did in Japan.

Miso is made by injecting ground, cooked soybeans with a starter culture known as koji. The koji contains a mold called aspergillus and some grain or legume such as rice, barley or soybean. The koji-inoculated soybean mash is mixed with water and salt and allowed to age for anywhere from a few weeks up to a few years. The longer it's aged, the more complex the resulting flavor.

Traditionally, rural Japanese families would make their own miso each year after the grain harvest. There are hundreds of variations in color, flavor and texture depending on the type of koji (made from rice or barley or whatever was abundant), the proportion of koji to soybeans and the amount of salt added. Each region developed its own distinctive miso.

For now, I'm happy to settle for store-bought. The question is, which one? The variety can be daunting. So I follow Iino's tip, looking for brands that contain just four or so ingredients -- soybeans, water, salt and a grain, with no additives like MSG. (Even the imported Japanese brands will list ingredients in English somewhere.) This indicates it was aged naturally and will have deeper flavor than brands made by a industrial process.

Miso is sorted into light, medium and dark varieties, which range from sweet to salty. Light or white miso is mild and sweet. It may be mild but, to me it's not subtle. It comes from warmer climates in the south, where fermentation goes quickly and requires less salt. It's typically used in salad dressings and lighter dishes.

Dark miso is stronger, saltier and more mature. It's made in northern Japan, where the colder climate calls for a longer fermentation and more salt to keep the miso from spoiling. Its full-bodied flavor works best in wintry soups and stews.

Medium (red) miso is the most versatile. It's a good choice for recipes that don't specify a particular type. And it's a knockout in tomato sauce.

You can even blend different types to customize the flavor in each dish, a common practice in Japan known as awasé miso, or the act of blending miso, according to cookbook author Elizabeth Andoh. You might add light miso to make a dish sweeter or dark miso to make it saltier. Iino recommends starting with a light, a red and Hatcho (dark). Andoh similarly suggests starting with Saikyo (light), Sendai (red) and mugi (barley), then adding Hatcho and genmai (with whole-grain rice) when you are more comfortable.

I'm up to four kinds of miso myself. The accompanying list will help you start your own collection.

Some miso varieties and uses

Miso may be named for its color, koji grain or the region in which it was made, which makes it tough to sort it all out at the market. And lots of imported brands have labels in Japanese only (except for the ingredient list on the importer's label). Here are some types you may run across:

Shiro. Known as sweet or literally "white" miso, it's pale yellow to almost white in color. Shiro miso is made with a rice-based koji and a higher proportion of koji to soybeans. Mild and relatively low in salt, it's good for dressings and dips.

Saikyo. Very sweet with caramel overtones, this creamy shiro miso is used in making confectionary and flavored sauces. When used to thicken soup, it's often combined with other miso pastes to balance sweet and salty overtones. Watch for added sweeteners.

Shinshu. Widely available, this has a salty taste and medium yellow to light brown color. Less sweet than shiro miso, it is used for toppings, dips and soups.

Sendai. A full-bodied, rice-enriched red miso, it's pungent without being intensely salty. Some brands are chunky, others smooth. Sendai miso complements non-Japanese ingredients like tomatoes and olive oil.

Aka (or inaka). Literally "red" miso, it's reddish-brown with a salty medium-strong taste. Made using a rice-based koji and good for miso soup, it's also a great all-purpose miso.

Mugi. Both the koji and the miso are made with barley. Winey and usually caramel colored, with bits of barley still visible, it's medium to dark brown and medium-strong tasting.

Genmai. Known as brown miso, it's made of whole-grain brown rice and has a medium-strong taste. Genmai is often combined with Saikyo to tone down sweetness. Whole-grain miso is saltier.

Hatcho. Deep brown, it's thick as fudge with a dry texture. Made with soybeans only, no rice or grain added, Hatcho is vaguely reminiscent of Chinese hoisin sauce. Very strong tasting, it's used mainly for soups, stews and sauces.

-- Beth Budra