Notice that egg yolks in the Netherlands contain more than double the K2 of American (and presumably Canadian) egg yolks. That reflects feed quality and the fact that the average Dutch chicken is more likely than her North American counterpart to spend some time in the great outdoors. Another unmistakable trend is the very high K2 content of rich, indulgent “sin” food like goose liver and fatty cheeses. This explodes the alleged contradiction between the indulgent consumption of rich food in European diets and the relatively low rate of heart disease in Europe. The French Paradox isn't a paradox at all. The very same pâté de foie gras, Camembert, egg yolks and creamy, buttery sauces that we inaccurately labeled “heart attack on a plate”
liberally supply the single most important nutrient to protect heart health.
Good news for the bon vivants among us.
On a less gourmet note is the K2 content of frankfurters and hot dogs. I debated long and hard as to whether these entries should be included in the list. I'm not trying to encourage people to rely on or justify eating these highly processed, nitrate-laden items for their slight K2 content. I ended up including them to make the point that the unexpected menaquinone content might very well reflect the higher amounts of K2-rich organs that go into these “mystery meats.”
they remained until the army returned to camp a few days later. By that time, the beans had rotted, but the desperate soldiers ate them anyway and (this is the suspicious part) liked the flavor.11 Natto was soon brought to the reigning emperor, who also declared it delicious, and its popularity spread from there.
Unbeknownst to those hungry soldiers and their commander, the bacteria in the straw sacks that caused the soybeans to rot also happened to produce copious amounts of vitamin K2. Until recently, natto was still prepared using the traditional methods of packing boiled soybeans in straw. Today, straw is no longer directly involved in natto production, but the specialized K2 -producing microbe from the straw, Bacillus subtilis natto, is added to the beans in a factory. This results in a more consistent product that is still brimming with menaquinone.
Natto isn't enjoyed everywhere in Japan. It is frequently eaten in the eastern regions (near Tokyo) but seldom in the western part (near Hiroshima) of the country. As it turns out, regional differences in natto noshing have a major impact on hip fracture rates. Studies show a statistically significant inverse correlation between the incidence of hip fractures in women and natto consumption in each prefecture throughout Japan.12 In other words, hip fracture rates are lower in areas where people eat natto. That's because both MK-7 and activated osteocalcin levels are higher in people who eat natto, even occasionally.13 One two-ounce serving of natto provides a whopping 550 micrograms of bone-building, plaque-busting vitamin K2 in the form of menaquinone-7.
Natto boasts other health benefits in addition to its superior K2 content.
Pyrazine, the compound that gives natto its distinct smell, reduces the likelihood of blood clotting, another bonus for cardiovascular health.
Nattokinase, a protein-digesting enzyme unique to this fermented food, has also demonstrated some clot-busting activity and potential for preventing or treating Alzheimer's disease.14 As well, natto contains vitamin PQQ (pyrroloquinoline quinone), a micronutrient with skin-health benefits that will probably become better known in the coming years. Like other soy foods, natto is a source of daidzein, genistein, isoflavones and phytoestrogen, compounds with alleged anticancer activity. There are many reasons to love natto, and I was determined to do just that while writing this book.
Unlike the passion for pastured eggs, a natto craze isn't exactly sweeping the nation, so finding the latter is even more challenging than sourcing the former. After reading much about the infamous stuff online, and watching a
few amusing YouTube videos of people eating natto for the first time, I set out to buy some. Toronto is a multicultural city with a high Asian population, although admittedly not a strong Japanese presence. Even so, I thought natto would be a cinch to find. I was wrong. A search of several large, Toronto-area health food stores turned up nothing but shoulder shrugs from the staff. Ditto for a number of well-stocked Asian supermarkets. After being stumped for a few weeks, I eventually hit the jackpot by stumbling upon a Japanese restaurant that had natto rolls on the menu.
I inquired about the natto and asked if it was possible to order some to take home. The restaurant's Japanese owner and sushi chef, Simon, rushed over to my table, all smiles. He was obviously thrilled with my interest in natto and proceeded to go on about how great it is. He especially emphasized how healthy natto is, although he didn't seem clear on exactly why. Simon admitted he didn't always like natto, but after trying it a few times, he was converted. I had heard a similar story from a few Caucasians and I was encouraged to hear that natto is an acquired taste, even for the descendants of its inventors. Surely I could learn to love natto too. The restaurant had two containers of natto to spare and I placed an order of several more for the following week. I went home with my little white containers for which, I later learned, I dearly overpaid at $5 a pop. The following day I steamed some rice and opened my first container, thus officially entering the weird and not-so-wonderful world of natto.
Natto comes in a small, square Styrofoam pods that hold about an ounce and a half of ooey, gooey beans. They smell a lot like the kitchen compost bin when it's overdue for emptying. Although off-putting, the moldy food smell is relatively mild, especially when natto is eaten cold. I found the nutty, savory, slightly salty and musty flavor to be mostly inoffensive as well, although this is likely one of those foods that individuals could experience very differently.
The issue for me was the texture. I don't consider myself to be especially texture sensitive when it comes to food, but this was ridiculous.
Japanese have a specific word to describe the texture of natto: neba-neba.
The closest word we have in English would be “gooey,” although my understanding of neba-neba is that it connotes a certain element of stickiness within the sliminess. Natto novices might think, as I did, that the challenge is preparing the beans in a way that minimizes the slimy-sticky quality. It doesn't work that way. Nothing you do to natto will change or disguise its distinctive texture. In fact, anything you add to natto will assume the same stringy, slippery consistency. You just have to embrace it.
Preparing natto is easy. It comes pretty much ready to eat, although it might need to be thawed first in the handy, single-serving-size container. Miniscule packets of condiments such as soy sauce and Japanese mustard are even included in most brands. All you have to do is add the sauces, mix for a minute to “develop the spider's web,” as Simon put it, and serve over rice.
Minced chives or green onion is a standard garnish, as is—brace yourself—a raw egg. The latter is entirely optional, but it is a traditional and popular addition. This is breakfast, after all.
Natto is highly versatile. In addition to the standard natto over rice, these beans can be served in a multitude of ways, of which I tried several. There's natto on toast, natto spaghetti and natto fried rice. There's even natto ice cream, which I did not have the pleasure of sampling. Every few days I prepared natto in a different way until I found a recipe that enabled me to finish a whole, tiny serving. Along the way I learned an important lesson:
don't scratch your forehead while eating natto. If any of those stringy filaments happen to be stuck to your hand, you'll end up feeling like you walked into a cobweb.
I have to admit that, ultimately, after considerable effort, I could not embrace the texture of natto. Perhaps I'm easily discouraged, but eating the fermented beans soon became a dreaded chore. I really wanted to be able to tell you that at some point I suddenly “got” natto the way I get blue cheese, but it just didn't happen. I reached a point where I could tolerate eating the stuff, but that's it. Even my “favorite” dish, natto fried rice (see the sidebar for the recipe), is just edible. I made a sincere attempt to love natto, and I failed, but please don't let that discourage you from trying. It is scientifically proven that you will reap the K2-associated benefits if you succeed at loving it—or if you can at least choke it down once every couple of weeks, which is what I will continue to do.