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’s Warmth

genmai (玄米) and miso soup (味噌)

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 on my own.

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.