Ryuji's Classic Tonjiru, Made Without Garlic or Ginger as a Counterpoint to the "Ultimate" Version

The ingredients are just pork belly, burdock root, carrot, daikon, Japanese leek, and konnyaku. Ryuji introduced them by saying, "Pretty orthodox, right? This is classic tonjiru," and declared that none of the "unorthodox stuff" from the earlier tonjiru, such as garlic, ginger, sesame oil, and shiro dashi, would be used.

For the stock, Hondashi and kombu dashi are used together. You could make it from bonito flakes and kombu, but it's a hassle and most people don't, so this is good enough, Ryuji said. The one thing they were particular about was the miso: Yamabuki Miso's white miso is very good, and they recommended using it.

Ebisu's tonjiru is the opposite. Ebisu makes a miso-ramen-style tonjiru, adding garlic and ginger and using both lard and sesame oil as the fat. In response, Ryuji was fired up to show what classic really means.

First up is cutting the daikon. Partway through, Ryuji noticed they hadn't peeled it even though this was supposed to be the classic version, but since it simmers for 20 minutes, the flavor doesn't change with the skin on, so they carried on as is. In fact, peeling it makes the texture a little less firm, so Ryuji personally prefers it with the skin on. The priority is practicality: don't spend effort on things that don't change the flavor.

The carrot is also cut into half-moons and left unpeeled. The skin softens when cooked and is nutritious too, but those who mind it can peel it, Ryuji said. They put importance on cutting the daikon and carrot to the same size, and remarked that the idea of "not doing what you don't need to do" matters in life in general, and that while people say cooking is about love, you should take care of yourself too.

The amounts are about 1/4 of a daikon and about 1 carrot, which easily makes 4 servings. Ryuji said it's better with plenty of vegetables, and they don't like having leftovers anyway.

While cutting, Ebisu asked whether tonjiru has a definition. Ryuji's answer was that it's a miso soup made with miso, vegetables, and stock, and that if there's no pork in it, it isn't tonjiru.

Ryuji further distinguished the two: in miso soup the broth is the star, but tonjiru is loaded with ingredients, and the ingredients are the star. That's why tonjiru works as a dish on its own, which makes things easy for the cook. Since there's no garlic this time, Ryuji added, everyone from kids to older people should be able to enjoy it.

The burdock is washed first, but scrubbing it until it's pure white strips away its aroma. On the other hand, not washing it at all leaves an earthy smell. If you want to keep the earthy aroma, a lighter wash is fine, Ryuji said, but since a fair amount of white miso is being used this time, they explained that a moderate wash is the way to go.

The classic approach is sasagaki (shaving it into thin slivers), but Ryuji believes that whether you shave it or cut it on the diagonal, neither the flavor nor how it cooks changes at all. They demonstrated that a petty knife works well if you do shave it, but said they personally dislike it because it's a hassle. Diagonal slices keep more fiber and have more bite, and they're faster to cut, so Ryuji rated them as "the best of both worlds." They said effort is the enemy in home cooking, joking that "if you've got time to put in that much effort, go work" is a Showa-era way of thinking.

Konnyaku has an odor, so it's washed before cutting. Tapping it lightly creates holes on the surface, which helps it absorb flavor and makes it softer. You can tear it by hand, but Ryuji's recommendation is to tear it with a spoon.

Ryuji said they prefer pieces about the size of a thumb, because big chunks of konnyaku aren't something to be happy about, but ultimately it comes down to preference.

For the pork, pork belly is used because it's fatty and tasty. Pieces that are too big don't taste good, so it's cut into bite-size pieces of about 3 cm to match the other ingredients.

When Ebisu asked, "Is that so the cooking times match?" Ryuji answered that besides that, it's for a sense of unity when eating. If just one ingredient is big, that's all you end up tasting. Pork offcuts are fine too, but they don't have enough fat, so in that case you should add something like lard, Ryuji said.

Ryuji realized after cutting the meat that they had forgotten to cut the leek, but said it was no problem since everything gets cooked anyway. It's cut on the diagonal, like the burdock. Adding the leek at the end gives a bright aroma, and with this much of it in there, Ryuji explained, you don't need garlic. The earlier tonjiru leaned toward miso ramen, but this one leans toward miso soup, and Ryuji wants viewers to enjoy that difference. Ryuji positioned this as the classic, easiest, most delicious, and most cost-effective tonjiru.

What Ryuji named as "the most important thing" was not adding oil. The fat that renders from the pork belly is plenty, so the pork belly goes into the pan without any oil. It's tempting to add sesame oil or the like at this stage, but that's unnecessary, Ryuji said. They mentioned that oil has gotten harder on them with age, and said they want viewers to remember both: the rich tonjiru as "Ultimate" and the light tonjiru as "Classic."

Starting by stir-frying the meat is important, and no seasoning like salt and pepper is added beforehand. The step isn't so much about cooking it through as about rendering the fat. With few ingredients and few seasonings, and just leaving out garlic and ginger making it much easier to cook, Ryuji emphasized that in the end, simple tonjiru is what tastes good.

Once the fat has rendered, the burdock goes in next. In the video, this turned into a quiz about what goes in next, and there was a scene where the tipsy cast argued over who had given the right answer.

As for why the burdock goes in first, Ryuji cited its aroma. Burdock is called "the herb of the earth," and it gives off a nice aroma when stir-fried. Aromas transfer to oil, so stir-frying the burdock alone first lets the oil take on its flavor. If the daikon and carrot go in at the same time, the burdock's aroma won't transfer to the oil, Ryuji said.

Once the burdock is coated in fat, the daikon and carrot go in together to soak up the pork fat. Medium heat from the start is fine. As Ebisu pointed out, there is zero seasoning at this point. Everything is stir-fried until glossy, and the konnyaku is added too. That said, konnyaku doesn't absorb oil, so strictly speaking it doesn't need to be stir-fried, Ryuji noted.

The topic of some people adding taro or other potatoes also came up. When Ebisu asked when to add aburaage (fried tofu) if using it, Ryuji answered that it can go in at this same point as the other ingredients, and that it's better to stir-fry all the ingredients.

Once everything is glossy, 650 cc of water is added. Tap water is fine. Because cold water goes in, the heat is turned up a bit to bring it to a boil. Ryuji said the great thing about tonjiru is that you don't need any other side dishes—just this and rice.

Once it boils, 1 teaspoon of kombu dashi and 1 teaspoon of Hondashi are added. Bonito stock alone works, but combining it with an equal amount of kombu makes it far tastier, Ryuji said. No MSG is added either; this is all the stock there is. The reason is to make the miso's presence stronger, and Ryuji explained that Hondashi and kombu dashi contain salt, so the ingredients pick up flavor as they simmer.

What Ryuji called "the biggest difference" is when the miso goes in. In "Ultimate Tonjiru," the miso is added at the start and boiled hard, which makes it taste like miso ramen. In the classic version, the miso goes in last. Ryuji also said their younger self would never have made it in such an ordinary way, but with age they've come to understand that ordinary is delicious too. From here it simmers over medium-low heat for 20 minutes to soften the ingredients and let the stock soak into the konnyaku and the rest. It looked like more liquid would evaporate than expected, so a lid was put on.

While it simmered, Ebisu asked, "Is stir-frying beforehand to shorten the boiling time?" Ryuji said no, and answered that stir-frying is for coating the vegetables in oil and searing them to bring out a toasty flavor. The meat, too, has browning that plain boiled meat wouldn't, and it's important to release that light browning into the broth as umami, Ryuji said.

Ryuji added that they draw the line this way: if the ingredients go into the pot raw, to them it's miso soup; stir-frying before simmering is what makes it tonjiru.

After 20 minutes, 3 tablespoons of white miso are dissolved in. When Ebisu checked whether white miso is the way to go, Ryuji answered that white miso is good. Yamabuki Miso's white miso is the kind without added dashi, Ryuji said.

On whether it's OK to bring it to a boil after adding the miso, Ryuji's view was that for a hearty tonjiru, boiling is fine. While noting that a certain cooking expert has also said a miso soup where you taste the stock shouldn't be boiled, Ryuji stated that in their own testing, boiling tonjiru caused no problems.

After tasting it, Ryuji said it was "insanely good." Those who want it to go with rice can add a bit more miso, but this is probably fine, Ryuji said. They used to add mirin and sake as well, but since they wanted to keep it simple, neither went in this time.

Finally, the leek goes in. Adding it from the start makes it limp, so last is best. If it looks like a lot, about half is fine, but since leek adds aroma, it's better to put in plenty, Ryuji said. The heat stays low, and Ryuji said they prefer it slightly crisp rather than meltingly soft.

Once it was done, Ryuji said that if Ebisu was going to eat it, they'd add another half tablespoon of miso. Ebisu politely said it was fine, but Ryuji explained that with home cooking it's important to adjust to the person eating it, and that it tastes better that way. Ryuji said they always look at who they're cooking for and change the seasoning accordingly. Saying it's better on the stronger side when eaten with rice, the miso ended up at 3 and a half tablespoons. If eating the tonjiru on its own, the original amount is fine, Ryuji explained.

At the tasting, the cast said things like "The vegetables' flavor really comes through" and "You can really taste the sweetness of the vegetables and the pork fat." Ebisu said the extra half tablespoon of miso added at the end was just right and that it truly works as a main dish. Ebisu also said that despite the simple seasonings, it has depth and a rich flavor, and praised the crunchy leek as an accent.

Ryuji reiterated that not relying on strong shiro dashi, sesame oil, garlic, or ginger is what makes it classic. Ryuji said it's five times better than most people imagine, adding, "Going back to basics matters."

On the difference from "Ultimate Tonjiru," Ryuji explained that the Ultimate version uses more miso proportionally, which makes it richer. This time the stock is restrained, and the umami of the vegetables and pork comes through strongly—in other words, it's the flavor of the ingredients themselves. Ryuji also revealed that remembering how good this was is what made them want to make tonjiru today. The salt tonjiru they posted before is also very good, but eating this should make you realize that tonjiru is truly a delicious food, Ryuji said.

The flavor isn't too strong, so you can finish the whole thing, and yet it still goes great with rice. Ryuji asked, "Didn't you think, 'How can it be this good with these seasonings?'" and answered that it's the vegetables that make it delicious. To close, Ryuji urged viewers to be sure to try making the classic tonjiru.