An introduction to Koji

Masterclass with Get Pickled

Have you ever wondered what lies behind the magical umami richness of Japanese cooking? Why miso and soya sauce make everything they touch delicious?

Get Pickled Somerset are hosting guest workshops, and the first will focus on koji mould (Aspergillus oryzae) – the wondrous ingredient that lies behind all those exciting products.

As interest in koji-growing has reached an international audience in recent years, a week-long online international conference on koji has been developed, featuring practitioners and enthusiasts around the globe – KojiCon. We have the pleasure to welcome three koji specialists, two of whom have been KojiCon speakers, for a one-off session here in Frome. In this half-day masterclass, ‘Introduction to Koji and its Modern Uses’, you will not just learn more about koji and its traditional uses, you will also get hands-on experience by making your own miso and shio-koji marinade to take home. You will also learn how to unlock the umami potential in your cooking by using koji-based ingredients like miso, aminos sauces, soy sauces, mirin and much more. The day includes a light lunch, with the chance to taste various samples of koji-based ferments developed by participants.

For more details visit getpickledsomerset.com or book direct via eventbrite (search for Get Pickled events)

WHEN: February 26th, 10am-2pm

WHERE: Redford House, Friggle Street, Frome

COST: £125

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URQUHART & HUNT

When I was small, I made the most amazing discovery. I could walk. Not just putting one foot in front of the other without falling over - any toddler can be thrilled by that. No, it meant I could actually go for a walk, travel, from one place to another. I could move, on my own, away from other people and out into the fields and lanes and woods. I can remember, even now, the exact moment when this happened, which field I set out to cross and which gateway I toddled through. The utter joy of it changed my life.

Did the beauty of the countryside call to me? Was it the lure of some atavistic urge to be at one with creation? Was I a wide-eyed child of nature? Nah: nothing so high falutin. The bliss came from being solitary. I could choose where I walked, and nobody would know where I was or what I was doing. Growing up, I spent most of the school holidays mooching about the nearby hills and valleys by myself. I climbed trees, followed brooks, found ways through thickets, sat on hilltops and watched rabbits. I rarely met a soul.

It was one of life’s great free gifts. You just walked out of the door and went. Anyone could do it –especially all those years ago, when the countryside was much less trimmed and tidy, and was still full of scruffy old corners which nobody bothered about. Footpaths were vague things, mostly unsigned and partly forgotten. Nice stout stiles and neat clicking gateways – you’re joking. But that didn’t matter at all. The essence of this wandering was the thrill of being alone and – for a while – unaccountable, unreachable.

Even this has its limits, though. As an adult (or what passes for one) I once arranged to meet up with some friends in the Lake District. I set off a day early, and did the entire trip by rail, changing trains a bewildering number of times and ending up on the vanishingly narrow gauge line to Eskdale. There I shouldered my pack and tramped off into the wilderness. I could be a secret agent, I thought smugly. Nobody could possibly have followed me. No-one knows I’m here. I’m free! Then I saw a couple approaching out of the mist, waving excitedly. They lived round the corner from me in Somerset.