Is there a more potent elixir against a dreary late-winter afternoon than a bowl of steaming miso soup? Perhaps a bowl of pho could accomplish an equal rendering of heat, but I prefer the basic simplicity of a miso soup – it complements the stark, bare end of winter in a more elegant way.
The occasional cube of tofu, the swirling rings of scallions, and the almost-black jagged clouds of seaweed floating through the broth comprise a bowl that perfectly represents a minimalist stroke of culinary economy – where less is more and the notion of absence as elegance imparts impressive and beautiful restraint.
Winter’s enchantments are often hidden in plain stripped-down sight, but only for those who take the time to slow down and examine – both what is at hand, and what is at heart.
A bowl of miso soup is a wonderful winter thing.
