I'm not that concerned about what MSG might do to my (and Patrick's) already chemical-ridden body, but I wanted to do it from scratch. It's the stock-making that's I'm talking about. Stock-making (or dashi-making) is considered the very basic of the Japanese cooking, but I'd never done that before. Like so many other Japanese amateur cooks, I'd relied, all my life, on powdered dashi-like substance and liquid soup base mix, which contain a substantial amount of MSG. They're very easy to use, and are quite tasty; some of them, especially the liquid ones, taste better than the real, made-from-scratch dashi that my grandma and aunt used to make. My mom has been using the same evil substances as I do for a long time, so I don't quite remember what her made-from-scratch dashi tasted like, which explains why I don't have any aversion to using the pre-made dashi powder and soup mix. Although made-from-scratch dashi used by high-end Japanese restaurants is mindbogglingly better than the pre-made one, it seemed that unless you're an experienced cook, you're better off using the dashi powder and soup mix.

But somehow, not knowing how to make dashi from scratch and having never even tried it have become a skeleton in the cupboard for me. I've grown apprehensive that some day, somewhere, someone will pop out of the bush and accuse me: "You keep a food blog as if you knew something, when you don't even know how to make dashi? And pretend that you're interested in Slow Food? Noooonesense!" Well, not really, but you know what I mean. It's like being a French cook who always uses bouillon cubes and canned chicken soup stock. It's like building an elaborate castle before laying a solid base structure. I just don't have the basics done.

So, yesterday, I finally looked up some dashi-making methods and tried it myself. Luckily, Japanese-style dashi doesn't require the same intensive labor as the Western-style chicken stock. All you need is a pot, water, bonito flakes, a bit of kombu, a strainer, a stove and maybe ten minutes--all of which I had at hand.

From what little I read about dashi-making, the following seems to be the consensus.

1) Wipe away any dust from the surface of the kombu (kelp).
2) Soak kombu in cold water for a while.
3) Bring the kombu-water to a boil, and retrieve the kombu just before it reaches the boiling point.
4) Add a handful of bonito flakes (katsuo-bushi), give it ten seconds and turn the heat off.
5) Wait till all the bonito flakes have settled on the bottom, then strain.

I more or less followed the direction, except for the last bits about giving only ten seconds to the bonito flakes and waiting for them to settle. Somehow, I didn't notice these two points, so I probably boiled the pot for a minute or two after throwing in the bonito flakes. Then I didn't give time for them to settle before straining the dashi. It smelled good, though--the intense, aged aroma of the bonito flakes had a subtle lining of the sweet and earthy aroma of the kombu. Excited, I used half of the dashi for the miso soup (with daikon, oyster mushrooms, wakame and green onions), while putting away the other half for later use.

The result was a little bit disappointing. The dashi didn't stand up to the relatively powerful flavor of the miso. The soup wasn't as flat as it would have been without the dashi, but it wasn't as satisfyingly complex as my usual one made with the powdered dashi. Five possible reasons came to my mind:

a) The two points where I didn't follow the direction somehow ruined, or didn't extract enough of, the bonito flavor.
b) The ingredients I used for the dashi were sub-par (this is quite likely, since they were one of the los cheapos I picked up from Mitsuwa long time ago).
c) The dashi I made wasn't suitable for miso soup.
d) I didn't use enough dashi.
e) I cooked the miso soup for too long, letting the flavor evaporate into thin air.

While I suspect the less-than-expected result was a combination of all the factors, but I also think that c) might be a larger part of it. The dashi taken from bonito flakes and kombu this way is called "ichiban dashi," meaning "the first stock." Subtle but elegant in flavor, Ichiban dashi is usually used for dishes where you enjoy the flavor of the stock itself, with minimum additional flavoring agents. For something like miso soup, which requires a potent dashi to stand up against the powerful flavor of the miso, other kinds of dashi is recommended.

Niban dashi, or "the second stock," is made from the bonito flakes and kombu recycled from the process of making the ichiban dashi, combined with some fresh bonito flakes and kombu. Niban dashi has more robust and less subtle flavor than ichiban dashi, and is used for nimono and sometimes for miso soup. For miso soup, however, the best dashi seems to be one taken from niboshi (boiled-then-dried baby fish), which imparts a stronger flavor than bonito flakes. (It really depends on the family and the palate; my grandma, for one, always used freshly shaved bonito flakes for her miso soup.)

Though my first attempt at real dashi-making was less than satisfactory (I didn't even mention that to Patrick at dinner table!), I'm determined to try more. Before I run to the store for better-grade bonito flakes and maybe some niboshi, I'll fix the problems a), d) and e). But the scary fact of all is--sort of reminiscent of the MacDonald's and company--that it's probably much cheaper to use the powdered dashi and liquid soup mix than to make good dashi from scratch with decent ingredients. Is this economy crooked, or what?

Din-din for Sep. 6, a la slow food

• gôya champloo (Okinawa-style stir-fried bitter melon)
• miso soup with real dashi (oyster mushrooms, daikon, wakame, green onions)
• pickled nozawana
• Korean sweet 'n salty black beans
• rice