This Small-Batch Soy Sauce Makes Every Meal Better

When I started visiting Mystic, Connecticut, one of the main things that stood out to me was the fantastic restaurant scene. I was surprised by the number of award-winning chefs in such a small town. On top of that, many of them mentioned the name Moromi as an ingredient on their menus.; they were using the Japanese-style shoyu in sauces, marinades, and even on pizza.

In fact, I was picking up a pizza at Nana's Mystic , a local organic bakery and pizza shop, when I first saw Moromi products on a store shelf. I was instantly intrigued. Founded by a married couple (a chemist and an author), and award-winning chef James Wayman in Mystic, the company makes its soy sauce in small batches. I soon learned that Moromi and Nana's are owned by the same chef and that the bakery — along with Wayman's name's other restaurant, River Bar — use the products to add both flavor and umami to their sourdough pizza and baked goods.

Shoyu, the Japanese term for soy sauce, is made from fermented soybeans, wheat, water, and salt. Although it sounds simple, the combination creates complex flavors. Moromi's soy sauce is made using traditional fermentation techniques, including koji (which is rice that's inoculated with mold and then mixed with soy and fermented).

I brought a bottle of Moromi during that first visit to Mystic, and it's been a star player in many of my home-cooked meals ever since.

Right out of the gate, I used the rich, almost briny sauce as I would any other soy sauce. When I added a couple of splashes to some quick veggie fried rice, it gave the dish a depth of flavor I've never found with any grocery store brand soy sauce — which made it well worth its $20 price tag

We love lettuce wraps at my house and adding Moromi to a marinade of honey, hoisin, ginger, and garlic turned an inexpensive cut of pork into a fall-apart, rich meal.

In my kitchen, I often use soy instead of Worcestershire sauce (it started as a substitution, but now it's a preference), and used Moromi when making a really simple steak Diane with a relatively inexpensive tenderloin cut. After searing the steaks, I added a mix of Moromi, tomato paste, Dijon mustard, and beef broth to deglaze the pan and stirred in a few splashes of cream. The rich, fermented soy elevated the simple sauce into something that had my family making the approving noises that every cook wants to hear.

Moromi makes an excellent dipping sauce as well. I've used it with dumplings, takeout sushi, chicken skewers, and more bites than I can remember. While I started with the basic soy sauce, its makers are always experimenting with different styles and currently have limited-edition sauces like maitake soy (made with hand foraged mushrooms) and chicken of the woods soy (these mushrooms were blended into the sauce that was then aged a year). The mushrooms impart a sweet earthiness to the sauce.

Is Moromi fancy? Yes. Is it more expensive than your standard supermarket soy sauce? Also yes. But given its ability to make everything that comes out of my kitchen taste more expensive than it is, I'd say that's real value.