Valentines Day Miso Soup

“I am getting a double chin” I whined, one crisp winter morning while gazing into the bedroom mirror. Christina was sitting up on the bed, her neck and shoulders scrunched against the wall.
“You’ve always had a double chin” she said, in the tone a person takes when they have grown all too accustomed to calming a loved one’s neurotic hyperactive sense of vanity.
“really?” I said. “always?”
“Yes” she replied, “it’s like baby fat”
“Baby fat??” I said, horrified by the words.
“yeah, it’s cute” she replied.
When Christina says things like this, she completely interrupts my self loathing. She crashes my pity party. It’s like she is hovering over my shoulder, waiting for me to reach my hand over to touch a hot stove and then WHAP, she slaps my hand away. I wake up from my trance, both more in tune with reality and less afraid of it.

It is exactly the opposite of what I was inviting her to say. Instead of denying my foibles she says “let me get a better look at that” and then “oh yeah, that’s a bad one.. and I love you even more” How can a person hate anything about themselves in the presence of such love?

When I was younger, I didn’t believe in romantic love. When a boy would tell me he loved me, I would respond with some ridiculous task, some quest to make him prove his feelings. Fortunately for me, the proving of love is just the sort of adventure that young men seem to enjoy. It rouses their competitive instinct, else I doubt that any of them would have put up with me.
“I love you” He would say.
“You don’t really love me” I would respond “you love the idea of loving someone”

My first boyfriend brought chocolates or jewelry to my locker every morning. The second started a fight in my honor in the playground. Of course playground love isn’t real love. It is not even a real drama, more like a rehearsal of lines with the professionalism of a Christmas pageant. Throughout my early twenties, I wore my relationships like an over sized costume, too immature to grasp that their was something more meaningful in love than the satiation of my ego. I didn’t stop doubting the sincerity of love until I met Christina. Her incredible ability to laugh at herself, to turn a mountain back into a molehill, makes me willing to share myself out loud. Perhaps it is my own sincerity that has relieved me of my skepticism, but with Christina I have no doubt of love. Happy Valentines day everyone!

Extra Rich Miso Soup
With mushrooms, tofu, and edemame

Dashi
(do not be afraid of the fish flakes in this recipe, you will scarcely notice the fishiness in the flavor of the soup..although the smell of fish will permeate your kitchen…still the fish adds a richness that would be hard to get without adding them)
8 cups water
2, 4 inch sheets Kombu
¼ cup anchovy bonito (fish flakes)

Soak the kombu in cold water for 45 min-1 hour. Then bring slowly to a boil, removing the kombu before the boiling starts (when the little bubbles form). Add the fish flakes and boil for 5 min. Turn off the heat, leaving the pot on the burner and cover for 15 min. Strain through a Paper towel (Viva brand works well for this), or fine mesh cloth.
Soup
½ large yellow onion sliced thin
1/3 package firm tofu cubed small
mushrooms (I used 6 oyster and 3 shitake), diced
edemame (optional)
3 Tbsp mild white miso (or 2 Tbsp dark miso)
1 Tbsp butter or oil
Wakame (dried and shredded)

Make dashi above, and keep warm on the stove. Add the wakame (optional if you like seaweed in your soup). Remove a steaming cup of the liquid and stir the miso paste in. Then pour the melted paste into the rest of the broth.
In a separate pan, heat a little oil or butter. Add onions and mushrooms and cook until they soften. Add tofu. Cook until heated through and add to the soup. Garnish with shelled edemame (optional)