The Three-Day Miso Reset

It began, as these things often do, with misplaced optimism. Somewhere between reading a headline about Japanese centenarians and standing in front of an open fridge in the half-light, I made a quiet decision: for the next three days, I would eat nothing but miso soup.

Not just broth, mind you. This was to be miso soup with integrity—complete with tofu, seaweed, and spring onions. Enough substance to call it food, not just salted water in a ceramic disguise. I told myself it was a reset, a brief departure from the indulgences of modern eating. A friend, less convinced, called it “soup and self-flagellation.”

The first bowl was everything I hoped for: warm, savoury, vaguely virtuous. By the third, it was less a meal and more a ritual. Still, I persisted. What followed was an odd but instructive episode in the quiet theatre of nutritional self-experimentation.

Within 48 hours, the scale moved. Not dramatically, but noticeably. Around two to three kilos lighter, I was reminded that glycogen depletion takes with it a not insignificant amount of water. There was no magic here—no detoxing, no cleansing of toxins, no spiritual rebirth—just a sustained caloric deficit, the body tapping reserves, and the physiological equivalent of turning down the dimmer switch.

Energy levels dipped slightly, but not dangerously. The tofu offered just enough protein to keep me upright; the seaweed delivered a mild jolt of iodine for the thyroid; and the spring onions, while mostly decorative, contributed a reassuring sense that I was still eating something grown in soil. What the diet lacked—fat, carbohydrates, variety, joy—it made up for in simplicity. No decisions. No cooking. No real chewing, come to think of it.

By the end of the third day, I felt lighter, yes—but also flat, like an old battery that had been carefully drained. The return to normal food brought relief and a modest sense of achievement, although I suspected any lasting benefit would depend on what followed, not what had just passed.

Would I recommend it? Not as a long-term solution, nor as a lifestyle. But as a curious interlude—a temporary abstention from the heavy machinery of modern eating—it had its moments. No supplements. No blender. No pseudo-spiritual narrative. Just soup.

For anyone inclined to test their limits in a safe, mildly masochistic way, the Three-Day Miso Reset may have something to offer. Just don’t expect to find enlightenment at the bottom of the bowl. It’s mostly miso.

Coming soon: The Five-Day Kimchi Reckoning. But not quite yet.