The miso fried rice I made for Moriyan’s bento the other day was really good.
The rice was so perfectly separate and fluffy that it was almost difficult to pick up with chopsticks.
But somehow, it still had a gentle softness to it too.
Even after it cooled down, it was delicious.
This one is definitely going to become a repeat recipe.
Actually, it’s inspired by Naomi Takayama’s natto fried rice recipe —
just without the natto.
I thought I should write it down here before I forget.
First, I finely chop an onion and cook it slowly in sesame oil.
Then I add a generous amount of butter — maybe around 15 grams.
After that comes the miso.
I stir everything together until the miso melts completely into the butter.
There’s something magical about the smell of miso and butter together.
The aroma suddenly becomes warm and rich.
Then comes plenty of sesame seeds.
Honestly, I think the more the better.
At least four tablespoons.
Once it turns into a thick paste, I set it aside for later.
Next, I sauté small diced vegetables.
This time I used carrots, green onion, and green pepper.
Then I add warm rice, spreading it carefully across the pan so the grains don’t overlap too much.
The miso paste goes back in,
and I stir everything together until each grain of rice becomes lightly coated in oil.
At the very end,
I drizzle a little soy sauce around the edge of the frying pan.
Just a little.
One final stir, and it’s finished.
The gentle saltiness of the miso.
The sweetness of the onion.
The richness of the butter.
And then the sesame seeds —
little pops of nuttiness every time you chew.
No matter which spoonful you take,
everything tastes evenly delicious.
But the reason I love this fried rice isn’t only about the flavor.
I like the way it asks me to cut the vegetables into small, even cubes.
Usually, I cook like someone riding a bicycle with broken brakes —
moving too fast,
making a mess around me without even noticing.
But this fried rice feels different.
Because the recipe itself is simple,
I naturally slow down and pay attention to the small details.
Cutting the vegetables neatly makes the texture softer and more pleasant when you eat it.
And somehow, the tiny colorful cubes look adorable too.
It feels a little like sitting my overexcited self down and saying,
“Alright… slow down for a moment.”
Fresh shiny vegetables,
or vegetables slightly tired from sitting in the refrigerator for too long —
I cut each one carefully, almost appreciatively.
And somehow, that quiet little task softens me too.
There’s one more reason I love this fried rice.
For years, I tried making restaurant-style fried rice at home,
but it never turned out the way I hoped.
This one is different.
It doesn’t taste like restaurant fried rice at all.
It tastes homemade.
And yet somehow, it still makes me feel proud, like I finally found a fried rice I’m actually good at making.
That small feeling makes me strangely happy.
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