mary eats

Earlier this year I joined eGullet, the food forum for people with nothing but time on their hands and food on their brains.

Normally, I am not a fan of forums. Anyone who has spent any time on one is familiar with the social scene. The know-it-all who post only to hear the sound of their keys click, the cheerleader who consistently says things like “yeah, me too.” Or “that’s so awesome,” no matter the previous postings. They angry guy who only posts rants generally related to the topic he is posting in, but totally off base (in reality). Every once in a while you’ll run across an intelligible post, generally a question you would have put forth yourself. Finding the answer requires more scrolling through pages of the cheerleader angry guy and the know-it-all. Nothing I have time for.

eGullet, alternatively, is full of kind, mature people, careful to not to step on each other’s toes. In the competitive world of cooking and, now thanks to adventure writers, eating, eGullet is like a high-school counselor’s office: a safe place to share your insecurities, complain about the popular kids, and ask questions.

I figured I’d join, generate interest for my blog with my witty postings concerning Seoul’s dining scene and other tales from my passport. Meanwhile, editors of famous food and wine magazines, so impressed by my prose, would contact me begging for me to come work for them. I’d move to New York City, become the assistant to the editor at a aforementioned magazine, where I’d go on to write a tell all novel titled “The Devil uses Henckels” that would later be optioned for a movie. I’d be played by Maggie Gyllenhaal.

Reality wise, I have been introduced to crazy food items in the Japan thread that I am simultaneously excited and repulsed by. The first food item to cross from online to on-the-dinner-table has been natto.

Natto, a fermented soybean product, is protein rich and ample with medical benefits, and generally part of a healthy Japan breakfast. It is not, a neutral food, you either love it or hate it. Particular gross out points are rewarded for its pungent, earthy smell and tacky consistency.

Pinpointing the origins of natto are tricky. Some say it was created in China during the Zhou Dynasty (1134 BC-246BC) while Japanese historians argue natto was present in Japan during the Jomon period (10,000 BC-300 BC). Urban legend has it that warriors were boiling up some soybeans, preparing for the night’s meal when they were attacked by surprised. A solider threw the beans into a straw bag and fled. The bag was opened a few days later, the beans eaten, and the consensus was good.

Today, soybeans are washed then steamed, mixed with spices, and the rice straw bacterium Bacillus natto, then fermented for 24 hours. The results yield polystyrene containers, holding 2oz of the sticky beans, a sachet of soy sauce and mustard.

eGullet’s members provided me with various ways to try natto. From the standard, atop rice with a raw quail egg, to the creative, a natto and cheese sandwich.

Before having built up the courage to try, I asked around work. One teacher made a face not unlike a toddler eating a brussel sprout when I mentioned Cheon Guk Jang (Korean for Natto). She knew of its medical benefits (Vitamin b12, fights cancer, good for digestive health), and recommended trying it in a powdered form, that when mixed with soymilk is flavorless. An older staff member nodded with silent approval when I said I’d purchased a small container.

The time: Monday night, 9 pm. The place: my kitchen, Seoul Korea.

I tried to be optimistic. “This doesn’t smell so bad.” I said as I pulled back the plastic coating.
“Christ. Yes it does.” My husband retorted. Waving his hand in front of his nose.

The quail yolk, a dot of wasabi, a good tablespoon of natto, and a splash of soy sauce, just couldn’t win any fans. The taste was earthy, a bit funky.

More upsetting than the taste were the angle hair fine strands of mucus generated by stirring the natto. Every bite guaranteed a mess of strands attached to my lips stretching from the bowl. It was straight from a horror movie. You know the one, about the girl, cooking in her apartment and her food turns on her, trapping her in a sticky, stringy web of flesh eating mucus, don’t you?

After my interest waned, he grabbed the bowl and said, “This needs to go outside, no, in the bathroom.” And there it sits as I type; both of us nervous to open the door for fear of the odor that could permeate our home.

I am going to try natto again, but later, when Kevin isn’t around. The Japanese magazine “Orange Page” I picked up at Narita has a few ideas. I am determined to like it.