Doenjang. [The Taste of Nature: Meju, Water, Onggi, Sea salt and Sunshine] #3.

The blocks that are well fermented and show wide hints of white or yellow bacteria are hanged with weaved rice straws either inside the room or racks outside depending on the environment throughout the rest of the winter. The reason for using rice straws during this process is to inoculate the Meju blocks with Bacillus subtilis, a ferment bacillus that is inextricable for the Doenjang to exist, and other natural microbes that later help the fermentation of the Doenjang. How these Meju blocks turn out determines the fate of the Doenjang and Ganjang. Magic, one might say.     

Usually around January (March at the latest), households start making Doenjang. The fermented blocks of Meju are thoroughly scrubbed and washed with clean water before going into the Onggi, a Korean ethnic earthenware used in making various Korean Jangs, Jangajjis(vegetables pickled in sauces), etc. The Onggi too needs to be carefully selected, cleansed, and sterilized with hardwood charcoal in order to produce high quality Doenjang. The secret of this particular earthenware is that it has invisible breathing pores. Without these pores, the ingredients inside are not able to enjoy the far-infrared radiation, consequently leading to poor taste and efficacy of the Doenjang. Therefore, it is recommended to use Onggis that are coarse with rough surfaces and not covered with enamel. Also, traditional Doenjang makers are usually known to use Onggis that are made during the winter, while pots made in the summer are thought as unfit for food storage due to easy decomposition.

    

    Water is another significant component that is directly connected to the final result of the Doenjang. This is one of the major reasons for traditional Doenjang makers to select the countryside as their home grounds, with the enormous merit of clean, pure, and most of all, deeply tasty water that it offers. In the olden days, the water for making Jang was selected under careful consideration. In ‘Gyuhap chongseo’, a living guidebook for women that was written in the Josun Dynasty, it says that ‘Excellent water is the key to tasteful Jang. One should not use the water from the well after rain, but draw fine water∙∙∙.’ Nowadays contamination has made it impossible for people to use surface water. Most of those who live in big cities are left with a single choice; using tap water. It is said that using the tap water after storing it overnight is an ‘okay way’ to make Jang, but the fact that the taste is never the same is recognized as well. Fortunately, there are still many rural areas with natural bedrock water that is relatively safe from pollution, giving us the wonderful opportunity to experience the tasteful, nature-friendly past.

   Now comes the salt. Few of us gravely ponder in the supermarket over buying a pack of salt. Most likely, we tend to choose white, refined salt that looks, feels, tastes familiar. In the case of Korea, after being freed from Japanese colonial rule in 1945, unrefined sea salt was considered unfit for the table based on the reason that due to sea contamination, heavy metals such as arsenic and lead were detected from it. What people back then did not know was that this problem had an easy solution; remove the bittern or roast the salt as a whole. Recently the realization of how important it is to eat healthy is bringing new light to unrefined sea salt. Unlike white salt which is sodium chloride extracted from sea salt, sea salt does not contain as much salinity (White salt contains over 99% of salinity whereas sea salt contains 80%). Instead, it carries rich minerals that not only improves our health but creates an entirely different level of taste in food as well.

   Jang, which is basically food that is cured with salt can easily create an unhealthy image for its seemingly excessive saltiness. However the actual saltiness of the traditional Jang is not as strong as one might expect, thanks to the wonders of sea salt. Besides, Jang works in Korean cuisine not only as seasoning but as salt itself and not as an ingredient that requires to be salted. Considering the abundant minerals, microbes, and enzymes within the Jang, one can carefully suggest that Jang may enhance the nutritional value of our food compared to simple white salt.    

Doenjang. [The Taste of Nature: Meju, Water, Onggi, Sea salt and Sunshine] #2.

Rows of musty yellow brown bricks of soybeans that are soaked, boiled, and mashed are the first thing that catches my eyes as I enter the room. I sniff, and the earthy smell of well-cooked, fresh beans is still full in the air.

    “How long do they have to sit and dry?” I ask my teacher.

    “A few days, until the outside is fairly dry with cracks showing on the surface of the bricks,” she replies, briskly wiping her wrinkled hands on a purposefully messy apron.    

    These ‘bricks’, which are the start and foundation of making traditional Doenjang, are called Meju. The history of Meju traces back to the early Three Kingdom Period, appearing in ‘The Chronicles of the Three States’ for the first time. Here it is said that King Shinmoon of Silla sent Meju as a wedding gift to the bride’s family. It proves its applauded existence in China as well through the book ‘History of the Three States’(290) where it records that ‘the people of Goguryeo have admirable skills in making Jang and brewing alcohol’. As mentioned above, being the main source of protein, the importance and value of Meju were profound back then. Naturally, households(especially those in higher social status) were required to preserve and improve their Meju of family tradition, finding pride in those that were successfully made and turned into delicious Doenjang and Ganjang.

    Unfortunately, making Meju from scrap is considered unnecessary in most of the households these days. Although the recipe itself is not as difficult as one might think, the strong smell of the Meju blocks during the process of fermentation can be more than most modern families are willing to bear. After drying the Meju blocks in the sun, it takes about 2~3 months for the blocks to thoroughly ferment while sitting on the warm spot of the ondol floor inside the house. In other words, members of the house have to stand the smell throughout the cold winter which is not something easy to do, especially when you can buy Deonjang or Ganjang as much as you like at the store.

     

    Unlike the unappealing smell of the Meju however, the potential nutrition it holds within can be described as remarkable. It all begins with the science hiding behind that rough and bumpy ugliness. Meju is made with 100% soybeans, which is the crucial difference compared to general Nuruk(traditional fermented malt blocks used to make alcohol) or Miso(Japanese soybean paste) that do not use fermented blocks in the first place. This implies that the Meju itself absorbs the entire package of the nutritional value that soybeans offer and more, making magic with the healthy bacteria and molds that later set in.

Doenjang. [The Taste of Nature: Meju, Water, Onggi, Sea salt and Sunshine] #1.

The sight of one being surrounded by piles and rows of processed food is no longer something thought as awkward or unusual. The eye-blinding brightness that welcomes us to fascinating grocery warehouses is as familiar as the doormat lying on the front step of our homes. Before stepping into the large, transparent entrance door we each grab a cart in a matter of fact kind of way as if to prove that this was how mankind reaped the source of energy all along. No need to dirty one’s hands or feet. All one needs is a wallet full of bills, or even better, credit cards.

Sometimes, however, one might ask all of a sudden, where does everything come from? What in the world are we stuffing ourselves with? What does this box with whole-grain, nutritious, organic printed on top really contain? What ingredients were used to make that jar of sauce? How about the piece of meat over there? Was it actually once alive before coming here all ready to be cooked under those layers of plastic wrap?          

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Soybeans, known for its richness in protein, are the central ingredient of Doenjang. “Jang” here basically means paste cured with fermented malt and salt, used as both seasoning and a side dish, rather than simply soybean sauce as it is easily interpreted nowadays. The variety of Jang and the history it withholds goes back to the ancient times of the three countries, Korea, China and Japan. However, due to the difference in the natural climate and environment of each country, the development of Jang too has proceeded to head out in separate ways.

       Having the perfect condition to grow soybeans of high quality, the dietary axis of sauce in Korea was formed based on this food that is known to be ‘nutritionally complete’. The nickname ‘meat from the fields’ plainly shows the level of protein that soybeans carry (more than 40% whereas meat or eggs carry a lower 26%). What really makes soybeans the top-notch though, is the fact that besides protein it is also full of all the essential amino acids our bodies need and plenty of essential fatty acids, vitamins, minerals, and cellulose as well. Understanding their wonderful value, ancient Koreans made sure to take in what soybeans had to offer, particularly in a way that was both similar to the two neighboring countries but at the same time with a definite twist. And out came the indivisible couple; Doenjang and Ganjang.

     At the beginning of their making, Doenjang and Ganjang did not yet stand independently. It was made as a watery paste from soybeans and brine. It was during the Three Kingdom Period when people started to separate the two Jangs from one, Doenjang being named after the thick paste and Ganjang after the saltiness of the liquid sauce. Once comfortably settling down on its natural character, Doenjang and Ganjang grew along with the Korean history, not only as a sauce but the main source of nutrition. Both Jangs were either eaten raw or used as basic ingredients in cooking dishes, operating away the unique saltiness into Korean cuisine. Nevertheless a clear difference existed between the two Jangs despite the fact that they were both born from the same foundation, therefore rarely being used together and developing respective worlds of cookery.          

Doenjang. [Prologue]

The busy sound of large summer raindrops hitting the roof above my bedroom drags me out from a sweet, succulent dream. As if insisting that it too is a firm part of life, such dreams appear just when the existence of past images and senses fade away, slowly smothering beneath heavy reality. Last night’s dream was especially juicy, with its huge chunks of medium-rare beef sizzling on top of a wonderfully enormous charcoal grill, piles of red leaf lettuce and spiky green cucumbers fresh and ripe from the fully grown garden standing few feet away and glasses of ice cold water with tiny crystal beads sliding down the surface. However, the moment I reach out and grab a piece of whatever food that stands touchable, it instantly dissolves into space screaming out the painful truth; a dream is a dream.

  Usually going to bed with an empty stomach wanders me off to food-absorbed dreams, making it likely that the subconscious state is always alive, especially thrusting when the wants of the instinct is at hand. With fingers crossed, I make a quick wish, hoping that tonight of all days I would be able to taste at least a cube of ice while dreaming. What a wonder it would be, having the ability, the sole power to jump back and forth between real life of a hungry night and filling it up with cost-free food and drinks created from an inner brain activity. No need to worry about calories, grocery costs, and yet starting a new day with a full stomach even before opening my eyes in the morning. Unfortunately it seems that even at those rare times when I am actually able to put a forkful of fluffy white potatoes into my mouth or gulp down loads of soda with ice crackling inside, it turns out to be impossible to feel the food traveling through my esophagus. Thus, no matter how hard I struggle not to be, I turn into an insatiable beast crying out desperately, ‘more’.

   Those are the mornings when I spring back from the dream as if from the dead, having a particular sense of obligation to fill myself up with real, solid food despite my normal hostility towards breakfast, something that is difficult to be sensual about with a numb tongue and sleepy stomach. This morning is one of such, making my five senses even more acute for anything that is recognizable as joy to the digestive system, and also directly connected to creating the miracle that happens behind my closed lips with the staunch help of my amylase. And at that moment, as I stir and groan from the shadow of my sleep, I feel my nostrils flaring with intense delight. I detect. Wait a minute. What is it? Yes. With no doubt, I detect the smell of Doenjang jjigae, a Korean stew made with Doenjang.

I lean more closely towards the slightly opened door next to my bed, hoping to catch another hint of the preparation for the dish. Few seconds later, and there it is. The brisk knock-knocking of the kitchen knife against the wooden cutting board and instantly I can almost draw the full, vivid image of nicely cut blocks of tofu, sliced chili peppers and yellow green zucchini piling on top of it. A pot of water on the gas stove will be boiling away with small pieces of kelp and dried anchovies dancing inside to the rhythm of the fire. Or perhaps, hopefully to a carnivore like myself, my mother had found a Ziploc bag of marbled beef sitting lazily inside the freezer and decided to put that instead. Whatever choice would be fine, as long as the Doenjang was still there.

Doenjang, the Korean name for fermented soybean paste, was not always something I looked forward to tasting neither alone nor as a main ingredient of a dish. Along with Gochujang(red chili paste) and Ganjang(soy sauce), the trio deeply cuts into the center core of Korean Cuisine. Nevertheless, the muddy brownness and the vegetable friendly components swimming inside were not exactly what a sweet craving child would become excited about. While growing up, whenever I woke up to see a pot of hot Doenjang jjigae sitting right on the center of the table, I would throw a face of disgust and look for something fried, buttered, or sweetened. Wait until you grow up, my mother would say.        

   Now on the brink of turning into what Koreans would call ‘a tray of eggs(there are 30 eggs in a tray)’, I finally come to admit one’s taste does not stay the same forever, less process on its own in a private island. My mother had known this all along. Wise are our mothers. Anyhow, with the guess that one’s palate grows along with all the other body parts, and the more taste you experience the more keen you grow about what your tongue touches and what your set of teeth puts itself into action, only a few years ago did I touch the point of sincerely appreciating this Korean soybean paste called Doenjang.