Miso

I cannot find the words to describe miso. Perhaps there are somethings that can only be truly understood after a long familiarity. If this is so, miso is certainly one of them.

It's not that words simply stop coming to me when I sniff at a box of miso, or raise a spoon to lips for a quick taste. Licking my fingers absentmindedly, I find that it is sharp, salty, strong. But the only usefully informative word that has come to me is cheese.

Not that miso tastes like cheese, my mind refuses to accept this statement, more like miso has the same spirit as cheese. It's aged, for one thing, and it is, as previously alluded to, salty. Its odor is pervasive and its taste distinct. These are attributes of cheese as well. I suspect that, scientifically speaking, tofu is closer kin to the cheddar than miso, but tofu has few qualities. Cheese has many.

I'm looking forward to growing closer to miso, close enough to tell the color of it's eyes, you could say. Right now I am still learning to like it. It's the person who you would love going to a movie with but would hate having to eat dinner with beforehand. Who'd you play cards with all night, but would never invite for a walk. You might frown at it in baked goods but savor its presence in soup. It is irreplaceable in my udon's broth, and that binds it to me forever – like a brother-in-law.

Hello miso, fancy seeing you here. Want to go for a walk?

Triple Soy Loaf, from JustBento