I don’t know when, and I don’t know how, but somewhere along the line I started enjoying natto. If you live in Japan you’re no doubt already familiar with this pungent, sticky delicacy, but if not let me get you up to speed. Natto is fermented soybeans, the same ubiquitous bean you enjoy in your tofu and miso soup, only this time they have been boiled, heated and left to rot. Or ferment. I don’t know exactly what the difference is, and once you smell them you’ll understand what I mean.
Natto, while enjoyed by most Japanese in the East of the country as a must-have morning staple, most other Japanese (and practically all foreigners) can’t force the stuff down. I mean, face it, it stinks.
It stinks, but it’s good. Like most addictions, it started with just a little taste, me sharing a bit of the wife’s Styrofoam tin on those mornings when we had nihon-shoku for breakfast. But then little by little I found I wanted more. Had to have more, until now I eat more than she does, and not just for breakfast, either. I get it on the side at Matsuya or 定食屋, or in the evening when I have too much rice, or at kaiten-sushi places when I see it come by. I mean I’m hooked, baby.
But I didn’t come here to evangelize. Instead, I’m here to show you how you, too, can enjoy natto right in your very own home following a few simple steps. For this example I’ll be using some traditional natto I received as お土産 from a friend in Ibaraki, the home of natto. Rather than the familiar square Styrofoam you’re used to seeing in the supermarket, traditional natto is wrapped in straw, and the flavor and scent are far superior. If you ever get to Mito be sure to pick some up for yourself.
Anyway, here we go. We begin at the breakfast table one cheery Tokyo morning. The fish has been grilled, the rice laid out, and the natto deployed to the left. Big, isn’t it? You pick up that bundle and the smell of fresh-cut straw (and natto, of course) fills your nose.
You clips the ropes at the ends of the bundle to free the straw which has been folded over in half to enclose the natto. Opening the bundle you find a pristine core of natto goodness nestled within, it’s cloying charms stoking your appetite and wilting the houseplants some meters away.
Using your chopsticks you gingerly extricate the natto from its bed of straw and pop it into the bowl you’ve prepared for this purpose.
Once it the bowl you break it up slightly and work it into the bowl, and then vigorously whip it in a circular motion until the neba-neba (stickiness) starts to come out, and then you whip it some more.
Finally, you add tare (sauce), mustard, nori (seaweed), or whatever else strikes you fancy to taste and mix it up real good.
And then you’re ready to dine in style! Pour some of that natto onto your waiting bed of rice, get it there with the chopsticks and off you go. Nothing, I tell you, could be finer in the morning. Keeping those sticky threads off your chopsticks, chin and lips takes a bit of practice, but if you can keep the chopsticks on the rice only when you eat you’ll be ahead of the game.
Wanna know more? Check out this excellent article by Mark Schreiber in the Tokyo Weekender for more natto facts and information.