Find historic miso and truly unique dishes in Nagoya, Japan

Located between Tokyo and Kyoto, Nagoya is lesser-known than most of the tourist destinations, but it certainly has a food culture worth exploring.

Miso nikomi udon is thick udon noodles stewed in miso broth and that is very popular in Nagoya area. Source: Getty / Nyantanan/Getty Images

Nagoya has been described as "Japan's most boring city", but that's not true – it's home to a fascinating and distinctive food culture built on an ancient way of making miso.

A significant part of “Nagoya meshi” (Nagoya cuisine) is flavoured with the region’s hatcho miso, which originated in the 1300s. This deeply red version of the soybean paste has an incredible richness, thanks to a long ageing process – developed over at least "two summers and two winters". Maruya, the oldest producer of this style, actually matures its miso for three years. Established in 1337, the company still uses a traditional method of stacking stones on top of its barrel lids to concentrate its miso flavour, a process that's more than 600 years old.

The name 'hatcho miso' actually surfaced in the 16th century, referring to where this condiment was made: eight blocks from Okazaki Castle. Tokugawa Ieyasu, the military leader who lived there, fed it to his warriors, because it was portable, enticing and long-lasting. The rich taste of hatcho miso has also been favoured by the emperor since the Meiji era.

This deeply red version of the soybean paste has an incredible richness.

Today in Nagoya, the deep intensity of this soybean paste is showcased in many local dishes. It adds a bubbling warmth to miso nikomi udon, where noodles are simmered in clay pots filled with a red miso broth. The city even has a unique method for serving the udon: remove the lid, flip it over and let the noodles pool in its groove, so it cools before you airlift them with your chopsticks.

Miso is also served with deep-fried pork cutlets (miso katsu) or prawns (ebi furai); it forms the hearty soup base that stews beef intestines in doteni and various ingredients in oden.

It can come in surprising forms, too. I buy miso caramels crafted by Maruya, as well as packets of its miso powder – the label suggests I sprinkle it over ice-cream.

When I dine at Asadaya in Nagoya, I order a miso soup with wild vegetables, expecting it to be a small side dish as it would be in Australia. What arrives is more like a cauldron, dark and brimming with swirls of cabbage, green beans, other vegetables, and a sunny egg in the middle. I realise that miso does not play a bit part in Nagoya meshi, it’s a main character.

The idea that "people from Nagoya will put miso on anything!" is a popular perception (and punchline), and it's understandable given the punchy impact of hatcho, their favourite kind. It was even called "emperor's miso', because it was beloved by rulers, too.

Although the city's cuisine has been singled out by CNN for its appeal ("Nagoya meshi is rivaled only by Okinawan food as being the most unique in Japan"), it's not just about its miso-rich dishes.

I'm a fan of kishimen, a style of udon noodles that's flatter and more ribbon-like than the stubby, thick kind you're used to. It reminds me of a sturdier, wider version of the rice noodles you fish out of pho.

If you've got a curious appetite, you'll find Nagoya anything but boring.

At Asadaya, I try it in a steaming broth that's clouded with egg-drop swirls and thick bands of seaweed. In the basement of Nagoya Station, I head to Yoshida Kishimen – it's run by a local company that’s transformed domestic wheat and salt into long, noodle strands since 1890.

From the menu, I pick kishimen noodles that are banked with shredded vegetables, pumpkin tempura and a generous omelette slab – all given a strong nutty, tangy thanks to a slurpable sesame-vinegar dressing. I also ask for noodles piled with battered vegetables (kakiage) and freshly grated radish. They're a good way to experience the slide and pull of the kishimen strands: the thick bands carry the dressing and drizzled sauces just as well as the soupy noodles I ladled the night before.

Kishimen with sesame vinegar and shredded vegetables from Yoshida Kishimen Credit: Lee Tran Lam

Nagoya is also known for its breakfast culture, particularly its morning service sets (even if the tradition didn't originate there). Ogura toast is a specialty of the city: it's sweetened with red-bean paste and butter. I crunch on it at Riyon, an old-school coffee shop, where it tastes like dessert at 10am.

Then there's hitsumabushi, a grilled eel dish you eat four ways; tebasaki, a sticky wing dish known as 'Nagoya chicken'. There are also cross-cultural influences: the city offers its own version of curry udon, a spicy style of Taiwan ramen that's not actually Taiwanese and Italian-inspired creations, such as ankake spaghetti. And the list literally goes on.

Anko toast at Riyon.

When people take the bullet train from Tokyo to Kyoto, they might not notice Nagoya – but it's worth stepping off and making a stopover to try the city's unique food culture. (Major tourist destinations like Ghibli Park and Legoland are on Nagoya's outskirts, too, if you need extra reasons to visit.)

The city offers a way to sample ancient miso, unique noodles, an influential breakfast culture and other culinary specialties. If you've got a curious appetite, you'll find Nagoya anything but boring.

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