Summer Borscht (Холодный борщ)

Wow, September already?  Jeez.

Cold borscht is a dish I think of around this time of year, just as fresh beets are coming up, right around late August.  The first time I ever had it was on my birthday in my little kitchen in Iwate.  I'd thrown myself a birthday shindig and invited a few work colleagues.  Three hours before guests were set to show up my boss knocked on my door, arms full with a big pot full of beets and dairy, and without much of an explanation or apology took over my kitchen to make his specialty: cold borscht.  He had to make it at my house, he explained after twenty minutes of silence, because his -- like most Japanese homes -- didn't have an oven and roasting was the key, he said.

Up to that point I'd heard of borscht but never tried it.  I didn't even know what was in it (despite two years of college Russian).  And now here was my Japanese boss happily shucking roast beets and popping them into a pot full of broth.  Surreal moment, right there.

He was a super sweet guy.  I miss those folks.

Mr. Wakayanagi was kind enough to let me watch over his shoulder.  I didn't have the good sense to write things down as he worked, instead committing the process to memory.  I think most of it stuck, but to be honest it was kind of a wild party so I might be missing a few steps.  Even the pictures are hazy.

I still don't even remember this guy's name.  I called him Bambi after that.

The back story, if I understood it correctly, is that Mr. Wakayanagi's family had roots in Hokkaido and the recipe had been passed down that way.  It might be more complex than that (most likely it is), but that's the bit I feel confident about.  At any rate it's a good recipe, excellent for a colorful dinner on a hot day.

Summer Borscht (Холодный борщ)

Makes:  ~ 8 cups (easily halved for a more manageable batch)

Credits:  Wakayanagi-kachosan, plus some input from various Polish, Russian, and Lithuanian recipes.

Total Time to Make:  60 minutes to roast beets, 30 min to cool the beets, 45 min to cook the soup & eggs, 2+ hours to cool the soup, 15 minutes to garnish/serve.  So ballpark 4.5 - 5 hours start to finish.

Ingredients:

• Approximately half a dozen large fresh beets, washed & trimmed.  Reserve greens for other uses.
• Can sub:  3 cups of chopped canned beets
• 4 cups beef, chicken, or vegetable stock
• Juice from 1 lemon
• 2 tsp majoram
• 1 TBS soy sauce
• 1 cup Greek/plain yogurt + 1 cup milk 
• Alternative:  can use 2 cups of plain kefir, drinkable yogurt, or, if so inclined, buttermilk
• 3-4 hard-boiled eggs
• fresh dill, chopped cucumber, scallions, and sour cream for garnish
• optional:  peeled, boiled, cubed potato for garnish

Directions:

1. Individually wrap fresh beets in tinfoil.  Add a few drops of water to each packet.  Bake at 400F for 40-60 minutes or until tender.  Allow to cool enough to handle safely.
2. Remove tops & bottoms of beets.  Use fingers to peel them completely.  Cube the beets.  
3. Heat the stock in a large soup pan on medium-low or simmer.  Add beet cubes.  Do not allow the stock to boil.  
4. Add majoram, lemon, and soy sauce.  
5. Keep on low heat, stirring gently every 5-10 minutes, for 30-45 minutes or until the stock has turned deep purple.
6. Remove from heat, allow to cool to room temperature.
7. Using a standing blender or immersion blender, puree the beet soup.  Take extreme care not to splash, as beets stain on contact and can easily ruin clothing or kitchen towels.  (Apron recommended.)
8. Mix yogurt and milk together with a whisk.  Add the yogurt mix (or kefir/buttermilk) to the soup.
9. Refrigerate the soup for 2+ hours (or overnight).  Be certain the soup pot is room temperature before placing in the fridge, as placing hot objects on cold shelves can cause them to shatter or crack.
10. To serve:  place a generous handful of chopped cucumber in a bowl.  Ladle cold soup overtop.  Top with slices of hardboiled egg, scallions, fresh dill, and sour cream (if desired).  Optionally, add cubes of potato to the bowl with the cucumbers for a heartier soup.

In my searches I found that there are many variants on cold borscht (also called holodnik, or holodni borscht), many of which center around how to cook the beets and what kind of dairy to use.  The options, far as I could tell, are: (1) boil/bake the beets, either separately or in the broth; and, (2) use various combinations of yogurt, kefir, milk, sour cream, or -- and this makes me gag to think about -- buttermilk.  There was even one that, so far as I could tell, was just shredded beets in a quart of buttermilk.  I...  yeah, no.  I don't do it that way.  

I like to roast fresh beets (for sweetness, also to keep dirt out of the stock since they're impossible to clean perfectly).  

The idea is to scrub them, cut off tops and bottoms:

Wrap these individually in foil with a few drops of water in each packet:

And then roast 'em at 400F for 40-60 minutes or until they're tender.  Let them cool long enough to handle comfortably.  You'll find that the peels slide right off:

See how easy?  I seriously ate an entire beet just like this.  Nature's candy!

Once they're peeled, cut the beets into cubes.

Now you're ready to get started!

Warm up your stock (beef, veg, or chicken all okay depending on your tastes), but -- and this is SUPER important -- do not let the stock get warm enough to boil.  The reason this is important is because if the beets get too hot they'll turn grey and get a little bitter.  This won't ruin the soup, but it will rob it of the gorgeous pink-purple color.  I keep the heat on medium low until it just starts to steam, then turn it down to low-low and drop the beets in.

Since the beets are already cooked it's not critical to heat the stock for long.  I give it about 30-45 minutes to let the color and flavor from the beets seep in.  (And give me time to boil the eggs.  I won't go over how to do that here -- just ask Google if you're not sure how to hard-boil an egg.)

Add in your lemon juice:

Majoram:

And soy (or salt, if you're avoiding gluten/soy):

Once the stock's good and red I take it off the heat and let it cool for a few minutes.  Then I blend it.  I used an immersion blender, but let me say with all seriousness that whether you use a standing blender or an immersion blender, you want to be so, so careful at this point.  Put on your scrubbiest teeshirt.  Wear an apron and gloves.  Make sure your favorite towels are out of the room.  The reason here is because it's very easy to slosh the stock onto your clothes or towel and it will stain.  So pretty please be careful and consider yourself warned.  Also, don't pour hot liquid into your standing blender.  Wait for it to cool first or you could end up with a cracked blender and hot purple liquid all over.  

This will give you a gorgeous dark purple puree:

When I learned the recipe from Mr. Wakayanagi, he used a drinkable yogurt product from the local dairy that's not unlike kefir.  Since my local market doesn't stock either of these things, I kludge it with a mixture of half yogurt and half whole milk.  Seems to work just fine.  If you want it more sour, use more yogurt.  If you want it really sour, use sour cream.  If you want it OMGSOUR, use buttermilk.  Up to you.

The way I do it, I first measure out a cup of Greek yogurt:

And then whisk it together with a cup of milk:

Into the pot it goes!

This is seriously my favorite part.  I love love love watching the colors change.

Isn't that amazing?

Damn, nature, you gorgeous!

Pop that bad boy in the fridge for a couple of hours -- even a day or two if you want -- and let it get good & cold.  When you're ready to serve, pop a handful of chopped cucumber into a bowl and ladle the soup over it.

Doesn't that pink just blow your mind?

Next up are 1-2 halves of a boiled egg (alternatively, you can chop it up into small pieces), and a few pinches each of fresh dill and scallions:

Tell me that doesn't look like Elmo.  

You can also top it off with a dollop of sour cream if you want:

And that's it!  You also put in cooked, cubed potato pieces if you want, or serve it with rolls.  Up to you.  

It's great on a hot day because it's full of fresh veg, has protein, and best of all is nice and cool.  Just make sure not to wear your favorite shirt to dinner.

Taking Stock

Ever get stuck in conversation with someone who insists on explaining every tiny detail to you -- even after you've made it clear you already understand the topic?  I don't know about you, but this trait drives me bonkers.  I run into it especially at my physician's office, where no amount of reassurance seems to convince them that I don't need basic terms explained to me in a babysitting tone.  Since the number one rule of my day job (and by extension the rest of my life) is to always presume competence in others, I suppose I'm more sensitive to it than I would be otherwise.

At the same time, I also hate when I'm trying to learn something new and the instructions list some step that sounds like it should be the most obvious thing in the world and yet I have no idea what it entails. Nothing makes me lose faith in myself and my abilities faster than when, as a beginner, I'm made to feel like there's something I "should" know but don't.

When speaking to any kind of an audience it can be difficult to find that middle ground.  I'm certain I screw it up sometimes.

So if making your own stock is something you've got a handle on, go ahead and take a lap.  We'll see you in the next post, no hard feelings.  For those that are wondering what I mean when I say I usually have chicken/vegetable/beef stock on hand and whether it's something that can be made at home, this post is for you.

First off, let's get a handle on the wording.  Many times, without really meaning to, I use the words "stock" and "broth" interchangeably.  Broadly speaking this is probably fine, since both are the result of boiling down stuff you've got left over around the kitchen.  On the other hand, if we're being nitty-gritty about details there is a difference:

• Stock is the "heavier" of the two.  Stock is used as a flavoring.  It can be used to add some oomph to things like rice, curry, mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, etc. When making stock, the idea is that it's not usually flavored and it's definitely not salted.  There are a lot of different definitions out there -- some say that stock uses bones whereas broth is runoff juices from whatever you're cooking, others say the difference is in length of cooking or in whether or not you use herbs.  But when you get right down to it, the difference is intent: if you're using it as a flavoring, then you naturally want a strong flavor without added salt, and that's a stock.  
• Broth, by comparison, is lighter and is the end product in itself.  Broth is used to make soup or something else where you want to taste the broth as the end-product, meaning it's lighter than stock and it's usually salted/flavored.  You can make broth out of stock by watering it down and adding flavorings.  Making stock from broth, however, means adding meat or veg to it and boiling them down; in essence starting over, like making strong coffee out of weaker coffee.  If your grocery store has both for sale at a similar price, buy the stock since it's a greater value for your money.  You can always water it down yourself if you're making soup.

Now, if you use the words without distinction or if you use broth to make risotto instead of stock, you are doing nothing wrong.  Really.  It's okay.  The only reason I took a moment to discuss the difference here is so that you'll know why what we're making has such a super strong flavor and why, if you're going to use it for soup later, you might find yourself adding water.

Okay, all that background out of the way, I'm about to throw at you the single easiest (and most useful!) thing you've ever made.  Seriously.  I use stock in place of water in almost every recipe I have.

Added bonus:  we're gonna use the slow cooker for this.

Making Stock in the Slow Cooker

Okay, here's what you need to know:  kitchen scraps + water + 8 hours on low.

Seriously, that's the recipe.  Let's step through it, shall we?  You can make this with anything you have lying around.  Beef, chicken, and veg are the most common, although seafood stock is good for chowdah if you've got fish scraps lying around.  I even made duck stock once.  It's all about what you have on hand.

My butcher has beef bones for sale most weeks.  Many grocery stores do, though you might have to hunt for them or ask.  I got six bones for two bucks.  That was probably way more than I needed.  If you roast a turkey or chicken, the leftover carcass will work.  Or if you're vegetarian/vegan, just stick to veggies.  It's cool, the process remains the same:  kitchen scraps + water + boiling long enough to leech all the flavor and nutrition into the water.

Some people, if they buy raw beef bones, will roast them first.  Since I'm about to boil these for the better part of a day I'm not really interested in drawing the process out, though it would result it a different flavor.  It's an option, anyway, if you feel like it.

Next: water.

I added as much as I could fit in the pot, though if I were smarter I'd have added the veggies first and the water later.  It all worked out in the end.

When it comes to veggies, the "trim," or scraps, are the easiest and cheapest way to go.  That is, things like the root end of the onion that you cut off, or the stem top of a pepper, the ends of a carrot, the bottom or the leafy bits of a celery stalk, the bottom bit of lettuce that is too tough to put in a salad.  That kind of stuff.  Just make sure it's clean.  As it turns out I had a number of whole veggies that were just about to go bad, but please please please don't think that you have to go out and spend money on fresh veg just to boil it to death.  The idea of stock is that it's cheap, easy, and is the cooking equivalent of recycling.

I've made the mistake of using fruit before (e.g. lemon peel in a chicken stock).  I'd advise against it, if only because stock is used in savory dishes and 9 times out of 10 fruit or citrus notes can ruin the dish.  Just imagine your mashed potatoes tasting like oranges and you'll see what I'm getting at.

I also threw in some thyme, rosemary, bay leaves, and peppercorns.  Not necessary, and if we're going by a purist's definition of stock then I've just ruined everything.  As long as you don't add salt (it'll make your dishes run the risk of being too salty later) you're doing just fine, I'd say.

Put the cover on, turn the pot to low and leave it to do its thing.  8 hours is the minimum, let's say.  It'd be nearly impossible to overcook it since that's pretty much the point anyhow.

The other big advantage to using a slow cooker -- other than the ease of use -- is that very little of the liquid evaporates off.  When making stock on the stovetop I always find I lose quite a bit of liquid since it's boiling for several hours.  

I came back to mine 12 hours later.  Gorgeous, eh?

But let me warn you: we are not done yet!  We're going to put this aside for a few hours to cool to room temperature, then put it in the fridge.  DO NOT put the hot pot directly in the fridge -- you'll risk shattering either the pot or your fridge shelves due to the sudden change in temperature.  And if there's anything you don't want, it's a few quarts of boiling hot liquid and shattered ceramic/glass all over you and the inside of your fridge.

Once it's room temp put it in your fridge and let it sit for at least 8 hours.

Here's why we go to this extra step:

See all that white stuff?  That's fat.  And if we didn't go to this extra trouble, all that would be ending up in your arteries.  If you're just making vegetable broth you could probably skip this step, but for anything animal-based you definitely want to do this.

Happily, it comes off usually pretty easily.  I peeled it off the top with a spoon.

That took care of most, but not all of the little fat chunks:

Next step is to strain it.  I use a fine mesh strainer.  Be sure to put a bowl underneath to catch the broth.  It'd be heart-breaking to get this far into the process only to dump the stock straight down the drain... not that I'd know or anything...

And then just carefully pour the cold contents of the pot through the strainer.  Make sure your pot underneath is big enough to hold all the broth.

Now, if you've used scraps you probably are willing to just toss out this stuff at this point.  Since I used whole veggies I fished out some to use in soup and in stir-fry later.  It's totally up to you.

Let it sit for a few minutes to let the liquid drip out of the scraps.

Not a bad looking stock, eh?

But there's still some stuff floating around in it, can you see?  Bits of fat and bone marrow and spice and what have you.  (Sorry for the reflection, it was an especially overcast day and I was fighting with lighting.)

So here's how we handle the last little floaties, if you want.  Do you have to?  No.  I just like to because then I don't have to think about it when I go to use the broth for cooking.

I take an old flour sack towel (anything without fuzz will work, even a clean old tee-shirt) and lay it over a sieve.  Again, with a bowl underneath to catch the broth (do not forget!!):

I find stock doesn't really stain the cloth too badly, though obviously you don't want to use your good towels for this.  Any time I'm at the dollar store I'll pick up a pack of flour sack towels just because they're so handy.

It'll strain through slowly, like coffee through a paper filter, so just pour a little at a time and wait for it to strain through before doing the next splash.  It took about 2-3 minutes for me.

Here's what's not ending up in the stock:

Yummmmm.

And that's it!  Again, just to recap, what we did was take kitchen scraps, add some water, boil it for a good long while, and strain it.  Try to stick to one type of meat at a time, don't pick any veggies with a really strong flavor or... pungent... chemical properties (broccoli, brussels sprouts, and asparagus are a few examples).  No.  Salt.  Do not salt.  Just say no.  Everything else is up to your tastes!

I like to freeze mine in 1-2 cup portions.  One batch in my slow cooker produces about 8 cups of stock, give or take.  If you make more than one kind of stock, just be sure to label properly so that you can tell the difference when you go to use it:

Next up:  Never-Fried Beans.

石狩鍋 - Ishikari Nabe (Miso Winter Stew)

The first week of January is one of my favorite times of the year, and possibly my only favorite part of winter.  Normally I'm an autumn girl.  Give me cider, foliage, crisp apples, and a fresh harvest any day!  Yet back when I lived in Japan I started a tradition with myself that I've kept up more or less most years since.

This time of year I like to take a day or two to unplug from everything and do a kind of mental & physical detox (yes, I know "detox" is a ritual not a scientific or medical fact).  But New Year is all about ritual, isn't it?  It's about starting over.  There's a Japanese tradition of cleaning out the house just before the New Year so that you start with a nice clean home.  So extending that, in a sense, to mind and body appeals to me as well.  As part of that I often take a trip the first weekend of January to someplace that is, simply, away.  I turn off everything, I disengage from everyone.  I am mindful of what I eat -- moreso than usual -- to make sure there is as much fresh, healthy food as possible.  It's purely ritual, yes, but one that brings me peace and a sense of newness for the year.  It's my own deeply personal Thanks-giving.

It started almost by accident one year when I took a trip to a little hot spring resort in a forsaken part of northern Japan called Aoni Onsen.  From where I lived* -- a place already deep in the frozen, forgotten north -- I had to take a bullet train, three local trains, two buses, and a snowmobile to get to the inn.  By design it is lodged up in a snow-covered mountain that has no electricity.  Everything is cooked by fire, seen by kerosene lamp.  It's a perfect spot for a little soul-searching, and the food!  The food!  I did it the first year, 2006, because I wanted to get away and travel at this time of year is comparatively cheap since everyone's already done their holiday traveling.  I loved the experience so much that I kept it up afterward for as long as I lived in Japan, and then in B&Bs or other remote locations once I returned to the States.  So when I think of this time of year I inevitably think of starkness.  Of a steamy bath by snowfall and candlelight.

Something else that I associate with this time of year is miso stew.  If you've ever been to any place that served sushi or Japanese food (even teppanyaki), you've probably had "miso soup" that consisted of powdered miso flavoring and reconstituted tofu.  Usually it's vaguely beige, lukewarm, watery broth with little bits of seaweed floating around in it.

What I'm talking about here is something heartier, something winter-ready.  What I'm calling miso stew is in Japanese called nabemono, or just nabe (nah-bay).  It's "stuff" (the mono part) that's simmered in a donabe, or earthenware pot.  You could also call this dish hotpot.  Around this time of year I make  Ishikari nabe, or Hokkaido-style hotpot, at least once a week.

To give you some context, Hokkaido is as far north as it gets in Japan before the chain of islands turns into Russia.  It's enormous, cold, full of cows and potatoes, and not very densely populated.  Think of it as the Maine of Japan.  It's known for dairy, spuds, a life-changing cookie and -- to help everyone deal with the weather -- beer and sake.

Ishikari is a river that passes through Hokkaido, and the salmon stew that shares its name features the kind of cold-weather foods one would expect from a such a place.  I love it because it's one of the few soups out there to feature salmon, one of my all-time favorite foods.  You can make it with anything, though, you're certainly not limited to salmon or even fish at all.  Below you'll see a large list of things one can make into nabe.

Remember the drill?  Scroll to the bottom for the concise, picture- & commentary-free recipe.

*Trivia:  as of this posting, the Wikipedia article for Ohasama, Iwate is the one that I wrote back in 2006.  I'm probably also the only person to read it since it was written.

Ishikari Nabe - Miso Winter Stew

Traditionally, nabe is prepared tabletop in an earthenware pot called a donabe.  There is nothing in the world preventing you from using a regular soup pan.  If you do use a clay nabe pot, just be sure to always keep the bottom dry (to prevent cracking) when you turn on the heat.  I bring mine up to heat slowly just to be extra careful, but you don't have to.

Mine is technically a "two-person" pot, but honestly I find that one pot will last me most of a week.  I can and will eat nabe every day if given the opportunity.

In terms of what you put in the soup, nabe is all about your own tastes.  For Ishikari nabe in particular there seems to be a consensus of salmon, potato, tofu, spinach, and mushrooms (particularly enoki) as the base.  In addition to these there can be any number of seasonal foods.  A partial list of options I found based on a dozen or so different recipes in both English and Japanese were: corn, carrot, daikon radish, leeks, scallions, shrimp, parsnip, rutabaga, cabbage, napa cabbage, bok choy, burdock (called gobo in Japanese), shrimp, and even chrysanthemum (shungiku).  Your instincts here about what would go in a winter stew will serve you well.

For this recipe I had salmon plus a small handful each of: carrot matchsticks, shredded leek, cubed red potato, sliced parsnip, cubed firm tofu (rinsed & drained), a mushroom blend, and spinach.

Place the salmon into the pot first:

Surrounded by all of the goodies except for the spinach:

The stew base is miso soup, Real Style.  Miso soup has two main components: a fish stock called dashi and a soybean paste called miso (hence the name).  You can buy miso paste sometimes even in regular grocery stores.  It tends to hang with around the wonton wrappers and tofu.  Now, I happen to buy my miso paste with the dashi (fish, usually tuna) flavoring already in it.  If you'd like to make your own dashi, there are several options:

1. Boil up some leftover fish bones/heads to make a true seafood stock (hardest, best flavor);
2. Do it Japanese-style with tuna flakes and seaweed (medium difficulty, close second-best flavor); or,
3. Use the instant stuff, called hondashi (easiest, but artificial flavor).

Just a few of the options.

If making a separate dashi isn't in your schedule (understandable), you can also opt for the instant miso soup found in the Asian section of most grocery stores:

Keep in mind when you go to buy instant miso soup (the stuff that's "just add water") or miso paste (where you have to add the seafood stock) it comes in two flavors:  white (shiro) and red (aka).  The instant soup mix is also likely to have some stuff floating in it, like seaweed and dehydrated tofu.  The instant's not that bad, really, and honestly I've used it on many a lazy afternoon.  When I use instant I like to mix half white and half red for variety.

If you're going the miso paste route, then about 2 tablespoons of shiro (white) miso is what I used.  You'll need to mix it up with some hot water to dilute it before putting it into the stock.

Hot water makes it easier to dissolve.

Allllmost there...

You can also do this in the soup ladle without using a separate bowl, but that's harder to photograph.

Cover your ingredients with dashi (if using) or water (if dashi is already in your miso paste or if using instant), and add in the miso flavoring:

Be very, very sure the bottom of your pot is totally dry before you switch on the heat in order to prevent cracking.  I do the opposite of the normal simmer approach:  I start on low heat for 10 minutes to warm up the pot (again, to prevent cracking) and then turn it up to a medium or medium-high for another 20 minutes or so.  Usually about 30-40 minutes of total stovetop time is more than enough.

Fish is done when it flakes apart.  It doesn't actually take 30 minutes for the fish to cook all the way through, so if you like your veggies crunchier or if you have sushi-grade fish (i.e. safe to be eaten raw -- be sure to check first!) you can shave off some cook time.

Next I take it off the heat and toss a handful of spinach on, then re-cover it.  (Note:  donabe lids get really hot, so use a potholder.)

About 5 minutes is all it takes for the steam to wilt the spinach to my liking.  If you like yours more thoroughly cooked, go ahead and toss it in with the rest of the veggies at the beginning.

And that, my dears, is that!

It was realllllly hard to get pictures of this without the lens fogging.

This can be served over pretty much any kind of noodle.  Udon and konnyaku noodles are popular choices (also called shirataki, konnyaku noodles are gaining popularity here Stateside lately).  Just be sure to boil the noodles separately and ladle the stew over it, or else they'll soak up all the liquid and you'll have a noodle dish rather than a stew with noodles in it.   I often have mine just alongside plain rice, or sometimes I mix the two together like a savage.  Either way it's delish, and truly one of my all-time favorite comfort foods.  I could eat this every day for the rest of my life and die happy.  Really.

Look at all those colors!

I've seen some recipes add butter, milk, or sake at this point to add some depth to the flavor and as a nod to the dish's Hokkaido roots.  I never do, but nothing's stopping you if you want to.

I added a little pinch of scallions at the end, just for fun.

Ishikari Nabe - Miso Winter Stew

Ingredients (adjust amounts and options to your taste):

• Used in this recipe:
• salmon fillet (skin can be left on if desired)
• 1 small red potato, cubed
• 1/4 cup diced firm tofu
• 1/4 cup mushroom blend
• 1/4 of a parsnip, peeled and cut into disks
• 1/4 cup fresh spinach (could sub frozen)
• 1 small leek, shredded
• 1 scallion, diced
• 5 baby carrots, cut into thin matchsticks
• 2 tablespoons miso paste with dashi flavoring + water
• could sub dashi/seafood stock + miso paste, OR
• instant miso soup mix + water
• Additional options:
• frozen corn
• daikon radish, peeled and cut into disks
• cabbage, napa cabbage, or bok choy
• burdock root (gobo)
• enoki mushrooms
• rutabaga
• chrysanthemum (shungiku)
• sake
• butter
• milk

Directions:

1. Place the salmon filet in the bottom of the pot.  Pile all veggies except for the spinach on top.
2. If using miso paste:  dissolve the miso paste into hot water. 
3. Cover the vegetables with water or dashi stock (if using), and add either miso paste or instant miso soup mix.  Cover.
4. After ensuring the bottom of the pot is completely dry, turn the heat on to low for 10 minutes to allow the pot to warm up.  
5. Turn the heat up to medium and allow to cook for an additional 20 minutes, or until liquid is boiling and fish is thoroughly cooked.
6. Remove from heat, add spinach, and re-cover. Beware of hot lid if using donabe. Allow spinach to wilt, approximately 5 minutes.
7. Serve over noodles or with rice.