Chill in the Air: Who? What? When? Why? How?

Up here in the NE, the skies darken and the pressure drops, and Pete Townsend, pants down or not, remains irrelevant compared to the moans of the JBs.  I mean: Those shrieks, crashing instruments, and leaps?  Puh-leeze.

I’m more tuned into miso broth.

I was just thinking as I made my nightly batch: Wow, is this a cuisine of poverty and terroir or what?  Few dishes are as subtle and evocative as miso broth.

Think about it: You take dried fish flakes (bonita) and dried seaweed (kombu) and some water and boil it up.  Then you pour the broth through a sieve and into a bowl.  Add, through a spoon sieve, miso made from fermented soy, rice, and barley.  Stir over a low flame.

Add some greens.  Pour over soba in bowls.  Add fried fish, if you like.

It’s so soothing.  And you can imagine being in a rocky, desolate place–some might say that place is the imagination–where the creative act is in the observation rather than the imposition.

The Who?  Who cares?

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