Visited Noda Miso Co.
As I stepped into the miso brewery, I was greeted by towering wooden barrels — each older and wiser than me — and the nostalgic aroma of freshly steamed soybeans and koji. It was a scent I had never smelled before, yet somehow it felt familiar.
The heavy stones used for fermentation are not placed at random.
Their size, shape, surface, and weight are all carefully considered to apply even pressure.
If a pointed edge is left facing down, it could create uneven force, leading to sharpness in flavor.
When collecting tamari, the rich liquid that rises to the top of the miso, it’s done quietly and patiently by hand, using a ladle — never rushed.
Just as wine gains value with age, so too does miso.
This idea of “aging” applies beautifully to mame miso (soybean miso).
As it ferments over a long period, the sharp saltiness naturally mellows, giving way to a gentle sweetness.
Its deep color, earthy richness, umami-packed complexity, and fragrant aroma are hallmarks of well-aged miso — much like a fine Bordeaux in the world of wine.
They told me they hope more people will come to appreciate this slow-grown, deeply flavorful miso.
The land where the brewery now stands was once a military training ground during World War II, where children learned to use weapons and fighter planes roared overhead.
The current miso brewery still uses parts of what were once naval storage hangars and barracks.
One day, an elderly man who had worked as a systems engineer during the war visited the brewery and said, “Thank you for making so good food in this place.” A moving episode.
In a place that once taught about death, they now teach about live.
Through hands-on classes held inside the brewery, they help children understand the importance and gratitude of eating — the essence of living.
Inside the brewery, you’ll find owner's surfboards made from old barrels, a collection of vintage signboards, and hand-drawn artwork hanging on the walls.
A record player and stacks of vinyl still sit in the corner of the classroom, and every session begins with the third-generation owner’s favorite tunes playing softly in the background.
Not only locals, but people from all over Japan visit this beloved brewery.
Lined along the back corridor are personal miso batches — not for sale, but quietly waiting for their owners to return and take them home.
It’s a quiet place, but the warmth of people can be felt in every corner.
They pour their hearts into miso, walk alongside it, and grow with it.
During I visit to the company, the fourth-generation owner was showing students around, so I wasn’t able to meet him. I made a promise to greet him next time and left the shop with that in mind.
June 20, 2025