First Time Making Miso
And lessons from grandma
Hello reader, thanks for being here! I’m Kana and this is the Sunday edition of Tending Gardens, which you can read about here.
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miso soup, a sigh of relief
In every culture, there’s a staple carb that forms the foundation of meals—a reliable centrepiece. For many Asian cultures, that carb is rice. My grandparents would often declare, “We can’t be full without it!” Yet beyond the carb lies a humble dish that rarely claims the spotlight but quietly binds the meal together. It’s so ordinary, so seamlessly integrated, that it often goes unnoticed. This is the secondary dish—the quiet hero that completes the table.
In Japanese cooking, for me, that hero is miso soup. It’s the bowl that always sits beside the rice, the pair saying in unison, “Welcome home.” There’s something about miso’s warmth and depth that feels like a sigh of relief at the end of a long day—a grounding, nourishing presence that asks for nothing but offers everything.
On my Cantonese side, soup also holds a sacred place at the table, though with much more variation than miso. Chinese soups are tailored to the seasons and specific needs, each with a purpose and a story. My grandmother always had a reason for the soups she prepared: “This one cures allergies,” she’d say. “This one prevents sickness; this one gives strength.” To her, soup wasn’t just food—it was medicine, comfort, and tradition poured into a bowl.
Soup, for me, is the embodiment of subtle and wholesome flavours. It carries a quiet joy, a nourishment that feels both physical and emotional. There’s a certain magic in a bowl of soup, lovingly prepared, that speaks to the soul in a way few other foods can. It’s a reminder of home, of care, and of the beauty in simplicity.
Making miso from scratch
Miso has always been one of those staples I’ve taken for granted, something perpetually store-bought and never really questioned. So, when a friend invited me to join her and her grandmother in making miso from scratch, it was an ah-ha moment. I realized how much of what I consume, particularly kitchen staples like miso, could also be something I make—and how empowering it feels to learn.
The process turned out to be delightfully straightforward, though I imagine sourcing ingredients might be tricky if you're outside Japan. Miso is essentially a fermented paste made from soybeans, grains, salt, and koji (a fermentation starter). Despite the simplicity of the ingredients, I’ve always considered miso a kind of culinary magic, and seeing the process unfold felt like unlocking a secret.
Here’s how it went:
Soak the soybeans for about 18 hours to soften them.
Cook the soybeans in a pressure cooker until they’re soft enough to mash easily.
Mash the soybeans into a paste.
Mix the mashed soybeans with koji and salt.
Knead the mixture together while it's still warm, ensuring it's thoroughly combined.
Pack it tightly into a container, remove any air pockets, and seal it.
The last step is waiting. We were told to let the miso ferment for at least six months, though a longer fermentation time will produce a darker, richer flavour. So, for now, my miso is resting, working its magic. I’ll check back next fall to see (and taste!) the results. Making miso wasn’t just about creating something—it was also a reminder of how rewarding it feels to engage with food at its source, to create with my hands, and to appreciate the slow, intentional process of fermentation.
Lessons from grandma
Spending time with Kaede’s grandma reminded me of the quiet joy and warmth of being around elders. There’s something grounding about their presence, a mixture of wisdom, candidness, and charm that feels irreplaceable. Kaede’s grandma didn’t hesitate to scold us when we arrived late, giving us a straightforward, no-nonsense talk about the importance of keeping time—a classic grandparent lesson that felt both stern and endearing.
But beyond her sternness was a kindness that radiated through her care. She insisted on feeding us, and her table overflowed with home-cooked Japanese dishes. Over this feast, she shared fascinating stories from her past—tales of her adventures as a young woman in Europe, navigating life without speaking English, and the serendipity of meeting and falling in love with a Swedish man on a whim. It felt like a window into another era, a glimpse of her vibrant, youthful spirit.
Her stories and warmth brought back memories of my own grandmothers, who are no longer here. I was reminded of the joyful times we spent together, sitting around a table filled with delicious homecooked food, surrounded by family. Moments like these, whether past or present, feel timeless—tied together by the love, care, and wisdom of grandmothers.
Miso is the key ingredient in miso soup, but it also can be used as a seasoning, marinade and so much more. There are so many ways to enjoy miso! If you want to make your own miso, check our Just One Cookbook.
Thank you for being here with me this week and Happy Lunar New Year to the Asian community celebrating this time of the year! May you and your family be healthy, safe, and well. February 12 marked the beginning of the Year of the Ox. The ox is meant to symbolize hard work, positivity, and goodness. May all those things manifest in your life this year!
Take care,
Kana
I’d love for you to think of me as your penpal—sharing a note from a tiny village in Japan. With Tending Gardens, I want to bring you a small joy in the form of a newsletter. If you like it and want more like it in your inbox, consider subscribing.