When I first started with nukadoko (a fermented rice bran pickling bed), I told myself: just start with the basics.

Cucumber, daikon radish, carrot. I cycled through those three over and over.

I’d vary the pickling time, vary the thickness of the cuts. Even with the same vegetables, the flavor shifted a little each time. That was interesting enough on its own.

Curiosity: “What About Other Vegetables?”

Once I got comfortable with the basics, it was only natural to start wondering about everything else.

First I tried broccoli and cauliflower. I wasn’t sure about the hard texture, but when I pickled them, the flavor soaked all the way through and they had a distinctive bite. It’s a taste you just can’t get from raw or boiled — something that only nukadoko pickles can do.

Next was burdock root. Left in a bit longer, the earthiness faded and the vegetable soaked up the rich umami of the bran beautifully.

I tried celery too. That sharp, herby aroma blended with the nukadoko and turned surprisingly mellow. I almost thought even celery-haters might be able to get through it — the flavor rounded out that much.

An Unexpected Encounter: Fish in the Nukadoko

One day while browsing online, I came across the idea that you can pickle fish in nukadoko.

Sardines, horse mackerel, mackerel. The claim was that pickling blue-backed fish in nukadoko removes the fishy smell and leaves only the umami behind. I was skeptical, but decided to try it.

I dredged the pickled fish in flour and cooked it as a meunière — pan-fried in butter. The bran’s aroma and fermented umami got sealed in, and it turned into something completely different.

One bite in, I thought: “This is a real discovery.”

Not a trace of fishiness. Instead, a deep richness and umami. I’d always thought of nukadoko pickles as just pickles — it never crossed my mind that they could also serve as a marinade for cooking.

Vegetables and Fish — Always Keep Them Separate

One important lesson I learned:

When you pickle fish in the nukadoko, the fishy smell inevitably transfers to the bran. If you then pickle vegetables in the same bed, they absorb that smell too.

Ever since, when I want to pickle fish, I scoop out a small amount of bran into a zip-lock bag and pickle only the fish in that. The vegetable nukadoko and the fish bran are kept completely separate.

Once I figured out that simple workaround, pickling fish became something I could do casually and enjoyably.

Don’t Throw Away the Leftover Pickles

I eat nukadoko pickles almost every day, but occasionally I have leftovers I can’t finish.

In those cases, I chop them up and add them to my miso soup. Whether it’s cucumber or daikon, the umami of the bran dissolves into the broth and gives it a slightly different depth. “Nukadoko pickle miso soup” is a fermented-plus-fermented combination.

There’s another way I’ve discovered recently: topping ramen with them.

When you put slightly sour nukadoko pickles on ramen, they add a gentle acidity to the broth that makes it taste almost like hot and sour soup. It’s better than I expected. Even with instant ramen, eating it alongside some nukadoko pickles makes for a surprisingly different bowl.

Nothing goes to waste — that might be one of nukadoko’s great charms.

The More You Nurture the Nukadoko, the More Interesting It Gets

A few months in. By continuing to mix the nukadoko every day, the flavor has gradually settled and matured.

The wider the range of ingredients I pickle, the richer my dinner table becomes. What started as a single cucumber has now expanded into a marinade for fish dishes and a ramen topping.

Nukadoko really does get more interesting the more you nurture it.

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Next time: Three months of eating fermented foods. Has my body changed? An honest report.

※ This article is based on personal experience and publicly available information. It is not intended to diagnose, treat, or prevent any disease. If you have health concerns, please consult a doctor or registered dietitian. See our Disclaimer.