Readers are likely aware that I publish another newsletter, Sake Industry News, thanks to the liberal use of ads in this publication. In every other issue of SIN, we publish an interview with a brewer that consists of ten questions about the brewing season. Last issue, we published such an interview with a brewer that was chock full of interesting insights. (To find out who, please subscribe to Sake Industry News! You’ll be glad you did!)

One of the questions we asked him was, “How was production volume this year compared to last year? Up, down or the same?” His answer was that it was about the same. However, he went on to say that due to COVID19, sales have slumped significantly.

“We may have to reduce volume over the next few years. We’ve already committed to our rice purchase for next year so we won’t be able to adjust until the year after. It’s really quite scary!” he continued.

Just how challenging this can be for sake brewers – and rice growers too – might not be evident to most people, so let’s look at it here.

Naturally, all sake brewers want stable businesses, and most want to grow their business as well. And naturally enough they need to balance supply and demand. If they run out of product, consumers will run to other producers. But if they make too much sake, more than can be reasonably sold, it runs the risk of getting old and suffering in quality. In truth, there a dozen ways to mitigate the problem of having too much sake on hand, but not letting the problem arise in the first place is better than any of them.

So balancing what they think they can sell with how much they produce is a big part of running a sake-brewing business. There is much to take into account: trends, plans, stock on hand, economic environments and more will all affect sales. But after assessing what they think they can sell and how much they need to brew, they order rice.

Bear in mind with very, very few exceptions sake brewers do not own rice fields or grow their own rice. And even among those that do, no brewer grows all the rice needed for a full year’s production. Instead, they order it from farmers, usually through agricultural cooperatives but sometimes by direct contract.

Rice-growing is a whole ‘nother industry in Japan, with its own challenges. Naturally, farmers want to grow as much as they are legally permitted, but also need to be able to sell that rice easily. And like sake brewing, that calls for a whole lot of planning. Rice is harvested in the fall, but planting begins in the spring, somewhere between March and June. Planning just what rice will be grown where, and, for many farmers, how much will be sake rice and how much eating rice or even rice for some other use must all be planned way in advance.

What that means is that sake breweries place rice orders in February or so for rice for the following fall. Remember, every year is different. It might be a bumper crop, but yields might be much lower than usual. And much can change between the time rice is ordered and the time it hits the market a year later. Lots of things might change. Like COVID, for example.

And that is what happened this year. Brewers looked at things like sales trends up until February, and made decisions on how much sake rice to order. But due to COVID, overall sake sales in March dropped about 13 percent, and some individual brewers saw drops of 40 and 50 percent of shipments in March and April. Naturally, this would drastically drop the amount of rice one would normally order, but the orders were already in.

Modifying those orders is not a simple thing. In fact, sometimes it is just not possible. So much goes into the planning of how much rice and which rice will be grown where that it simply cannot be changed quickly. If a field in which sake rice was grown all of a sudden is used for another agricultural product, it is very difficult to change it back to sake rice. It just doesn’t work that way.

Some might think that another solution would be, rather than ask a farmer to just grow another rice, instead just say, “cancel the order, and let the field be empty this year,” but apparently that is even worse.

So in many cases, the brewers will be stuck with the rice that was ordered, and that is why it is “quite scary” to our interviewed brewer.

In truth, there are a handful of potential solutions. The rice can be stored at cold temperatures and used later – but the energy costs are significant. The brewed sake can be made in such a way that it stands up to time in the bottle better, stored colder than normal to slow down maturation (at a cost, of course!) and sold later than originally planned. And then, if need be, the following year’s production can be planned around the surplus.

But the rice-growing industry might not be able to adapt as fast.

In truth, it is a fairly intricate problem involving several industries, and it also depends on the whims of nature and the economic environment. Just how it will pan out, of course, remains to be seen. Stay tuned!

So the problem is complicated. But the solution is the same: all of us need to drink more sake. If we can enjoy more sake and nudge demand up steadily in spite of all that is happening in these times, we are doing our part, and all that we can to help the sake industry.

And speaking of Sake Industry News, why not subscribe today! Learn how to do that below.

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Interested in learning more about sake, and the industry in Japan that makes it? Subscribe to Sake Industry News, a twice-monthly newsletter covering news from within the sake industry in Japan.  Learn more and read a few sample issues here.

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Also known as “Awanashi Kobo”

Admittedly, the subject of yeast types begins to push the envelope of geekdom, ever-so-slightly encroaching into the realm where most folks’ interest in sake begins to wane. While some want to know both in theory and practice the difference between a Number 9 and a Number 10, and perhaps even between a CEL-24 and EK-1, most of us are content to sip and smile. Even so, there are some interesting historical, cultural and technical anecdotes surrounding even things as dryly scientific as yeast, making it well worth a look-see for those that like sake. The lore – dare I say subculture? – surrounding foamless yeasts, or “awanashi kobo,” is one such example.

First of all, just what is foamless yeast? Usually, when sake undergoes its 20- to 40-day fermentation, the foam rises in great swaths and falls again, especially over the first third or so of this period. Last month, we talked about the appearance of the foam, and how much brewers can deduce from watching it. You can read that here.

The sake brewers of olde would judge the stage, progress and condition of a given batch by the appearance (and smell, and taste, and even sound) of this foam topping. Many brewers simply prefer the foam, as it gives them one more source of all-important input that can be used in assessing the progress of a fermenting tank, and when a sake is ready to be pressed. The five senses are, after all, the most reliable tools of the sake-brewing craft.

Also, there are ten times more yeast cells in the foam than the mash itself, so very often yeast for subsequent batches is removed from the foam of healthy, vibrantly fermenting tanks.

So foamless yeasts, obviously, are strains of yeast that do yield bubbles and foam on the top of the moromi (fermenting mash) as they ferment away and convert sugars to alcohol, carbon dioxide, and more. (Actually, even foamless yeasts create a little bit of foam.) The question is, if brewers can learn so much from the appearance of this foam, then why would anyone want to use these foamless yeasts? There are, actually, a number of very good reasons. Most of these are centered around efficiency, sanitation, labor-savings, and even safety.

For instance, since the foam rises so high during fermentation, brewers cannot fill a tank to the brim with rice, koji and water since it would soon overflow with foam, leading to hygienic nightmare. Rather, they can only fill the tank initially about 3/4 of the way to leave room for the foam to rise and fall. Naturally, this puts a damper on one’s yields and efficiency. With foamless yeasts, however, this concern is all but a non-issue, and a brewery can get much higher yields out of each batch and tank, which contributes massively to the overall efficiency of a year’s worth of brewing.

Also, when foam does rise and fall, the remains that cling to the side of the tank are a veritable hotbed of bacterial activity, an orgy of undesirable microorganisms just hankerin’ to drop back in and do damage to the unsuspecting ambrosia-in-waiting below. So this must be assiduously cleaned off by the brewers. Not only is this hard and time-consuming work, it is also quite dangerous, since it generally requires leaning into the tank.

So by eliminating the foamy remains, time, labor, and risk are spared. Finally, without all that gunk in the way, the hard-working yeast cells move and work a bit more freely, so that fermentation proceeds a smidgeon faster and can finish a day or two earlier.

Why are they foamless? What happens, it seems, is that most yeast cells will cling to bubbles of carbon dioxide that are created and then rise to the surface. Foamless yeast cells, on the other hand, for whatever reason do not cling to these bubbles and so are not carried up, up, and away. Since the bubbles are unencumbered, they pop, and there is no foam rising high above the mash.

The foamless yeasts that are commonly encountered out there today are non-foaming versions of the “usual suspects,” rather than being new, unknown, or total mutant life-forms. Most of the foamless yeasts commonly seen used in sake these days are simply foamless versions of the main Brewing Society of Japan yeasts, i.e. Numbers 6, 7, 9, 10, 16 and lately 18 (which, actually, does not even have a foaming counterpart!). There are others, of course, but we just hear about them less often.

Actually, these too are naturally occurring. About one in every several hundred million yeast cells of a given type are foamless, but obviously, if just one in several hundred million is non-foaming, no one will notice. It just takes patience to isolate some and cultivate a pure culture of them.

Also, they have been around a long time, it seems, but proper records go back until only about 1916, when several breweries reported experiences with them. Apparently, until then, the brewers that encountered these thought, “ Whoa. This can’t be right. Let’s just quietly throw this mutant away before anyone finds out about it. It could be bad for our rep and all.”

But then in 1931, the Sake Research Center in Niigata successfully brewed a proper batch with foamless yeast. In 1963, based on some foamless yeast isolated at a brewery in Shimane making a sake called Hikami Masamune, researchers began to study it properly, and with the help of a local-to-Shimane famous sake professor named Yuichi Akiyama (that was until recently still active and famous), in 1971 the foamless version of Number 7 became available to brewers around the country.

However, the first commercial use of a foamless yeast was actually in Hawaii, believe it or not. That was in 1960 or 1961, a full ten years before it was used on anything remotely resembling a large scale in Japan, by Mr. Takao Nihei of the Honolulu Sake Brewery. Dispatched by the brewing research organization within the government of Japan, he was the first to take what information there was on these yeasts (and a sample, of course) and run with it. His focus was saving labor and producing great sake with great efficiency, and this he did with great success.

Are these foamless yeasts really the same as their bubbling counterparts, except for the foam? I mean, c’mon; really? I always take the opportunity to ask that question whenever I visit a brewery using foamless yeast, being sure to pretend it is the first time I have ever done so. Most of the time they would answer, “Yes, the results are essentially same, and the practical advantages make it a clear choice for us.” However, there are a still a few hardcore brewers who insist that the foamless manifestations are not quite as good as the foaming yeasts. Naturally, the ability to gather information from the appearance of the foam is eliminated. Still, most brewers feel that with foamless yeasts they get the same quality of sake, with less mess.

A final technical note for those that are interested: foamless yeasts, at least those distributed by the Brewing Society of Japan, are designated by a -01 after the normal nomenclature. So a foamless Number 7 is known as 701, foamless Number 9 as 901, and so on. Those you are likely to come across are 601, 701, 901, 10-01, 1601 and 1801 (for which there is no regular #18).

Take the time to look for the yeast used in your sake. Sure, it’s a bit maniacal, but fun as well. And if you see one of the numbers ending in -01 above, you know just what it is.

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Of course they do…

I do not get to Ishikawa Prefecture often enough. It sits nestled basking in its historical glory, on the Japan Sea side of the country, its rich history former reputation for wealth and opulence in stark contrast to mellowness and sleepiness that pervades much of the prefecture today.

During my most recent excursion there, I was able to visit a brewer called Kuze Shuzo, whose main brands of sake are called Choseimai (“The dance of long life”) and Notoji (“The road to Noto”). As is the case with a lot of Ishikawa food and drink, it’s enjoyable but hard to find near me, enough to cause one to think, “Why haven’t I heard of these guys more often, and why can’t I find this near me?”

They are unique and extremely interesting in many ways, one being that they grow their own rice that is also called Choseimai, although written deliberately with different characters. And one of the most interesting aspects of their brewing practice is the fact that they use two sources of water, one hard, and one soft.

Readers will likely recall a number of things about water used in sake brewing in Japan, including that since in the end sake is about eighty percent water, it exerts massive leverage on the nature of the final sake. And while iron and manganese need to be at very low levels to even begin to think about using a water source for making sake, beyond that brewers discuss the hardness or softness of water. This is measured by the amount of magnesium and calcium or calcium carbonate.

While one is not unequivocally better than the other, hard water encourages a fast fermentation that often leads to full sake with a quick finish, and soft water allows a slower, more lackadaisical fermentation that, when combined with lower temperatures, is conducive to ginjo production and more readily results in sake that is softer, rounder, and more absorbing.

Overall, Japan tends to have slightly soft water compared to the rest of the world. So even what is called hard water here in Japan is actually kind of soft when compared to the water in other countries.

Back to Kuze. They have a well inside the kura as do many producers, and like most places this is of course the main source of water that they use for making their sake. But just outside the brewery is another source of water, a spring that is sourced from a completely different origin, and has a significantly different mineral profile. It is, in fact, fairly hard water.

And so just for the fun of it, or perhaps just be-Kuze they can, they use that hard water for some of their sake. Interestingly, some of their products use both sources of water, i.e. both hard water and soft water in the same tanks of sake.

This of course complicates things hugely, and is in essence a nod to the history and culture of their immediate environs. And good marketing of course, if you can get people to listen to the story.

As they explained their brewing philosophy and methods to us, they eventually came to the sake that is brewed with both sources of water. And it came to light that they limit the hard water to being used in the moto, i.e. the yeast starter, and the soft water to use in the moromi, i.e. the subsequent fermenting mash.

Bear in mind that when making sake, the first milestone is the moto – the yeast starter – which takes two to four weeks to prepare, and the goal of the moto is to have a mini-batch with an extremely high populations of healthy, strong yeast. After that, more ingredients are added in three stages, roughly doubling the size of the batch with each addition, and then fermented for an additional three to five weeks, with the goal this time being more alcohol, and enjoyable flavors and aromas of course. This longer fermentation is often carried out at lower temperatures, and much more slowly, as such conditions encourage cleaner and more aromatic sake.

So when they told us that they use the hard water for the yeast starter stage, and the soft water for the subsequent longer fermentation, I immediately thought, “ of course they do.”

Indeed, of course they do it that way. While it does in fact make total sense, it is quite instructive to note why.

Remember that at the moto stage their goal is creating a strong yeast starter, and that means they want the moto to ferment strongly, so as to have the yeast reproduce quickly and healthily. And hard water will support that. Conversely, they want the subsequent moromi stage to take place more slowly, to some degree inhibiting fermentation speed, to bring out more appealing aspects of flavor and aroma in the final sake. And softer water will encourage that.

So, yeah; of course they use the hard water for the moto and the soft water for the moromi.

With about 1200 sake breweries out there today, and almost all of them making decent stuff, it is hard to do something truly unique yet still somewhat orthodox – and still be tasty enough to sell well. While it is not a choice that is open to many breweries, Kuze Shuzo has found one way to do just that. And when you hear of just how they do it, there is naught to say but “ of course they do!”

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Announcing the launch of a new sake publication, Sake Industry News, a twice-monthly newsletter covering news from within the sake industry in Japan.  Learn more and read a few sample issues here.

The answer: Yes.

The sake world is rife with paradox. There are so many aspects of sake that are this way, you are told, but a day later another authority says, no, it is not that way. And while you are still scratching your head to figure it all out, you discover things to support both sides of the story. And then, yet a completely different side appears too. Sure, there are principles and rules, but sometimes the exceptions to them outnumber the conforming instances.

One major enigmatic part of the sake world is rice, or more specifically, the importance of using proper, high quality sake rice rather than just regular sake rice – or even table rice – in making good sake. According to some folks, the choice of rice strain determines everything about a sake. Some brewers insist on using only one variety, or just a few.

Then there are those that say technique and brewing methods are more important than the choice of rice in determining the nature of the completed sake. This concept is backed up by the fact that a dozen brewers can take the same rice, even milled to the same degree, and make a dozen completely different sake. How then could the rice really play that much of a leading role?

Rather than the folly of attempting to answer that – an exercise in futility of there ever was one – let me instead be part of the problem and actually support the paradox by showing an extreme example of each of these facets of the jewel that sake is. While this approach may not be so helpful in ultimately understanding sake, it may help encourage us to stop even trying, and just enjoy it.

So let us first look at this idea: to make the best sake, one needs to start with the best rice available. This would be easier to state if there was such a thing as “the” unequivocally best sake. But there ain’t. So let us lower our expectations just out of the gate and say that to make really good sake you have to start with really good sake rice.

Often but not always this means Yamada Nishiki. It has all the necessary qualifications in that it is easy to work with and easy for brewers to bend to their will. It behaves. Of course, it is not the only game in town, and there are brewers that do not use it at all. But a ridiculously high percentage of breweries use at least some Yamada Nishiki.

So Yamada is good. But there is good Yamada Nishiki, and there is great Yamada Nishiki. There is a ranking system, used predominantly in Hyogo Prefecture where the best Yamada grows. And there are microclimates and even particular rice fields in which the best Yamada Nishiki is harvested, measured by objective and measurable standards.

And make no mistake: when top-grade rice like that is in the hands of a good toji and crew, the resulting sake is something special, something beyond the norm. It is not really a matter of being sweeter, or dryer, or more balanced or more expressive or fuller. It’s much harder to nail down concretely, but the difference seems to be a matter of reverberation or resonance in the overall flavor profile. But it is immediately recognizable as something that is clearly a but above. One great example of this is Isojiman Junmai Daiginjo made with Yamada Nishiki from Tojo in Hyogo, but there are others. And this makes it clear that the best rice can lead to subtle qualities that appeal to almost everyone.

But then there’s the rest of the story…

There are also breweries that can make extremely enjoyable sake using less than stellar rice. Traditional techniques combined with modern measurement and technology help brewers tweak things to the point where they can maximize some things during production and minimize undesirables at the same time.

There is a brewery of which I am fond that is located in western Japan. It is quite popular and well distributed these days, and while the company is growing steadily, they are far from huge. I’ll hold back on naming it as the below might not be public information. The toji there is very regimented, and is not emotionally attached to traditional techniques, or at least not just because “that’s the way it’s always been done.” He uses plenty of machines, and eschews some steps that other toji consider indispensable.

After a recent visit to the kura, I was tasting through the lineup with the toji (master brewer) and the kuramoto (the owner of the company), and we were discussing their labeling as we did so. They do not hide the grade of each of their products, but do not put it on the front label either, relegating it to small characters on the back label. But each product has a unique name, like a sub-brand, that lets consumers associate an impression with it. So selecting and remembering their products are quite easy.

“Too much information, like grades and seimai-buai and all that, is distracting in our opinion. Sake should be judged on how it tastes and smells, and not much else. So we do not hide this information, but we deliberately downplay it,” they explained.

This attitude is slowly taking root, with more and more brewers releasing products with that kind of minimalist labeling. While there are admittedly few such product on the market right now, I expect it to grow to trend-like proportions over the next few years.

“Also, you’ll notice we do not put the name of the rice on the bottle either,” continued the kuramoto. “And that is deliberate too.”

“We brew almost all year-round here. And this product,” he said, hoisting a 1.8 liter bottle of their best-selling junmai ginjo, “is made from Yamada Nishiki. Basically. The thing is, we can’t always procure it for a full 12 months; there are years where there is not enough to go around. So once in a while, we have to use a different rice in a couple of batches.”

“So the truth is, I don’t know what rice is in there. There is an extremely high probability that it is Yamada, but I just don’t know for sure!” He exuded complete confidence in their way of doing things.

While the reasons and reality of that approach could go on forever, one things struck as quite significant. Their products are extremely enjoyable, and also extremely consistent. The toji has it dialed in: he knows just what to do with whatever rice he can get to make the final product taste just like that made with Yamada Nishiki. I am willing to bet he struggles more with the non-Yamada to get it to “behave” than he would like. But at the end of the day, he maintains great quality and stability while using “mostly Yamada, but not always.”

So yeah, great rice is important. Unless it isn’t.

In truth, this conversation could go on forever. It could easily wax philosophical. Some would argue that you need that top-grade rice to make top-grade sake, and even for exorbitant prices there is a market for it. And such sake is outstanding. But is it certainly is not the most fitting tipple for all occasions; no way. Glitter. Glam. Bling. And we all like glitter, glam and bling once in a while, this guy included.

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Announcing the launch of a new sake publication, Sake Industry News, a twice-monthly newsletter covering news from within the sake industry in Japan. Free until December 1! Subscribe before then and enjoy an 20% discount for ever. Learn more here.

Warmer temperatures and strong storms are not to be trivialized!

The weather has been warmer the past few decades, and the environment has been much less stable overall. Japan is experiencing this as much as anywhere else, and while its effect on the sake world is not yet huge, everyone is aware of the changes and how they could impact things in the future. Sake production itself and, of course, rice growing are the two main things to consider.

Let’s look at production first. Of course, temperature is hugely important during sake production, as a difference of just a couple degrees during fermentation would lead to a completely different sake, in terms of both flavor and aroma. Basically, ginjo and daiginjo call for lower temperatures so as to stress out the yeast and extract all those fruity essences. Not that this kind of sake is the only game in town. But you know; I’m just sayin’.

But note, the industry pretty much has that covered. In the old days, sake brewing was much more at the mercy of nature. Kura (breweries) are built to be cold in the winter, and cooler than the outside in the summer. Thick earthen walls help that cause to some degree of course.

But today, temperature control is much easier than in the past. Tanks can be concentrated into smaller space than in the past, and those rooms within the kura can be further insulated and cooled with modern climate control equipment, no problem. Individual tanks themselves can be chilled too, with all kind of tools now available such as jackets through which coolant can be run. Jury-rigged versions like garden hoses running chilled water can also be used for more budget-conscious breweries.

So proper, well thought-out industrial design can solve a lot of these problems. On top of that, there are also those breweries (like Taketsuru in Hiroshima) that take the philosophy that it is better to just let nature have her way, and let that be expressed in the year’s sake.

In truth, it’s not really this simple, since temperature control calls for more resources and energy. As time passes, we all need to be increasingly aware of that too as it can be part of the problem. The sake industry is not a large industry, and is just a drop in the bucket of energy consumption. But we still need to be conscious of such things.

Rice growing is another issue altogether. While changes are indeed apparent, thus far they are manageable rather than massive. But even bigger changes are afoot for sure.

For example, even though the climate has changed, the best Yamada Nishiki still comes from the same microclimates – such as Tojo and Yokawa – in Hyogo Prefecture, and the amount of top-quality rice that is harvested each year has not declined.

Surely modern technology in all areas helps this. For example, weather radar lenabled everyone to see the massive typhoon Hagibis that engulfed Japan in early October. This allowed the farmers growing Yamada Nishiki to quickly harvest the rice – albeit a bit earlier than they would normally have done it. An early harvest is much better than a ruined one. More significantly, though, climate change affects things in ways beyond higher temperatures.

There are other adaptations to the changing climate that are happening as well. For example, most good sake rice strains do not like colder temperatures, and so not much good sake rice has been grown in the northern parts of Japan. But as things warm up, the northernmost limit is getting nudged even further north.

Hokkaido, the northernmost of Japan’s four main islands, was long known for having not-so-good rice, to put it mildly. One brewer from there told me he found a company advertisement from the 80s that bragged – not stated but bragged – that all of their sake was made with rice grown on the main island of Japan, and not in Hokkaido!

But over the past decade or so, things have changed. There are several very good strains of sake rice being grown in Hokkaido, and the rice-growing industry there is actively marketing it to the rest of the country, and successfully so.

As an interesting anecdote related to this, Saga Prefecture is part of Japan’s southernmost of the four major islands, Kyushu. Plenty of good sake rice is grown there, including the aforementioned and sometimes overly adulated Yamada Nishiki. But one brewer I spoke to from Saga is going out of his way to buy and brew with rice from Hokkaido. Why would he bother with this when there is so much good rice locally available?

Because he has his eye on the future. He feels that in time, good sake rice production may move further north. So he wants to get experience with the rice from that region and learn to make increasingly better sake with it. And, furthermore, he wants to open the channel of distribution and establish a relationship with the rice-producing industry up there, so that when Hokkaido rice gets more attention, he will enjoy the benefits of having developed a long-term, mutually beneficial relationship that will afford him preferential status.

Hopefully, we will all act in concert to slow down climate change and take better care of the planet. But the sake brewing industry is already pondering a handful of Plan B options. Let us see how it unfolds over time.

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Announcing the launch of a new sake publication, Sake Industry News, a twice-monthly newsletter covering news from within the sake industry in Japan. Free until December 1! Subscribe before then and enjoy an 20% discount for ever. Learn more here.

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Know more. Appreciate more.
Announcing the launch of a new sake publication, Sake Industry News, a twice-monthly newsletter covering news from within the sake industry in Japan. Free until December 1! Subscibe before then and enjoy an 80% discount for ever. Learn more here.

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The brewing season – the first one of the new Reiwa era in Japan – has just begun. Most places have a tank or two, maybe more, already fermenting away. The fall is also the season for lots of tasting events of all kinds of groups and of various scales.

Indeed, the fall is the traditional season for announcing to the world how well the sake of the previous brewing period has turned out. But there is another tasting season, in April or so, where breweries will show their just-brewed sake, called “shinshu,” with all involved knowing it is a bit too young to completely enjoy. Worded more diplomatically, it is understood that most sake will get even better with a few months’ maturation. Such shinshu is brimming with potential, and can tell us a lot about how things went over the past winter.

Most of these are large tastings comprised of many brewers and a lineup of sake from each. But one in particular that I look forward to and value highly each year is put on by just one small brewer, for a couple of hours, in the dim, less-than-extravagant office of his main Tokyo distributor. The fact that I am extremely fond of this kura’s sake is surely a big part of my excitement.

The sake is called Hitakami, from Miyagi, and in short, what Hirai-san the owner does is to line up 30 or so sake, mostly pasteurized but some nama (unpasteurized), all genshu (undiluted, so perhaps a couple of percent higher in alcohol), and all very young. But what is unique here is the chance for those of us in the industry to taste each tank brewed with all its sparkling individuality. No homogenizing blending, not at that stage anyway. No chance for the sake to mellow out. And nothing to equal the playing field amongst them.

Bottles are lined up on a long, narrow table approachable on both sides, and flanked with spittoons strategically placed every meter or so. Each sake is labeled with the batch number of from whence it came. The handout received upon entering gives us the necessary information: “Batch #37, Junmai-shu, Hitomebore rice at 60%, Miyagi Yeast, Nama Genshu, Nihonshudo 5, Acidity, 1.5.” And so on down the line. Furthermore, we were given the date on which the sake was pressed, i.e. the day fermentation ended.

So each bottle at that tasting comes from a separate tank; none were blended. And this makes it extremely educational and interesting, as we can see how different tanks of sake brewed with the exact same ingredients and methods can be very, very different. And a tasting like this is the only time we can experience that. Why?

Because almost without exception, within a given brewery, each season all the sake of a particular grade that is destined to be sold as the same product will be blended together to ensure consistency. But they do not, for example, blend tank #33 and tank #54 since that combo would lead to something great, as they might do with some other alcoholic beverages. The intention is different.

Are there exceptions to this? Of course there are. There are exceptions to everything in the sake world. For example, there are some brewers that deliberately do not blend their products so as to let the uniqueness of each tank do the talking – the sake called Mana 1751 is one such example. And one large and historically very significant company, Kenbishi, does in fact identify three or more tanks in each year’s batch that will morph into something very special when blended. But most of the time, for almost all brewers, blending is done to promote uniformity across all the tanks destined to be sold as one particular product.

Consistency is an important expression of quality in the sake industry, both from bottle to bottle and from year to year. Ensuring that to the degree that it is possible is the objective of blending in the sake world.

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Announcing the launch of a new sake publication, Sake Industry News, a twice-monthly newsletter covering news from within the sake industry in Japan. Free until December 1! Subscibe before then and enjoy an 80% discount for ever. Learn more here.

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An important period in the history of sake

When looking at the history of sake, both culturally and from the point of technical developments, there is a period in the “dark ages” during which sake brewing was done mainly in shrines and temples in Japan. Interestingly, this was a period of huge strides in brewing methods and technology. But unfortunately, this period of sake history tends to get conveyed in a very abbreviated and minimalist form. It usually takes a back seat to issues such as knowing the grades and types, or how sake is brewed.

While admittedly conversations about how to know just what it is you are drinking, or how to discover your preferences, are more relevant today than the stories of the days of olde, sake’s foray into and back out of the religious ranks is an interesting one.

To follow and understand it all, however, one first needs a perfunctory knowledge of Japan’s history. Until the 8th Century or so Japan was ruled fairly well by an extended imperial court, replete with the emperor and other royals. During this time, most sake was brewed by this court (they had their own brewery on the premises of the palace in Nara) for their own consumption, although much of this was also made for festivals and ceremonies rather than frivolity.

But slowly, aristocratic warrior classes took over the de-facto ruling of the country, although the imperial court continued to rule in name only. Seeing the inherent opportunity, the military government allowed production to extend into the private sector, with sake taxes first being applied in A.D. 878. They continue today.

But sake also – not surprisingly – has religious applications as well, at least in the indigenous religion of Japan, Shinto. (Shinto is characterized by the veneration of spirits in nature and nature’s manifestations, as well as ancestors, and is refreshingly free of anything remotely resembling a formal dogma.) There is a Shinto ceremony called O-miki performed with a Shinto priest in a shrine, and using unique white porcelain flasks (called miki-dokkuri) and cups that can be seen on the altars of shrines everywhere. In this ceremony, a small amount of sake is drunk in a prayerful act of symbolic unification with the gods.

So, even the military ruling elite gave the gods a tax break, and tax-free sake began to proliferate in Shinto shrines, ostensibly for religious purposes only. But Buddhism was also gaining ground in Japan, and as a result of some unique blend of vagueness and tolerance, very often Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples lovingly shared the same grounds. While the two religions have very different tenets, they coexisted very peacefully. “Hey, it’s all good, man” is what the clergy of old likely muttered about. This continued until the Meiji era, when Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples were forcibly separated by decree of the new Meiji government.

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Know more. Appreciate more.
Announcing the launch of a new sake publication, Sake Industry News, a twice-monthly newsletter covering news from within the sake industry in Japan. Free until December 1! Subscibe before then and enjoy an 80% discount for ever. Learn more here.

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And so, while alcohol is not a part of Buddhist worship, since they shared ground, they shared sake, and they shared the brewing workload. And while, officially, no partaking of the libation was permitted outside of the religious ceremonies, no doubt they were nipping at the product here and there. In fact, they even had a nickname for it to obfuscate the truth from outsiders. Sake drunk by the clergy in temples was known as “Hanyatou,” which (very) loosely translates into “the warm water of wisdom and truth.” How true; how true.

So, for a few hundred years – beginning in the 10th or 11th century and continuing to some degree into the 15th – much sake brewing was centered in temples and shrines. During this time, the monks of the temples in Nara would occasionally travel to China for Buddhist instruction, and a lot of the brewing technology of that time originated from what those monks picked up while in China, and later modified to suit local tastes and objectives.

And so it was here that brewing methods were developed that led to much better sake, a definition that includes (as well it should) significantly higher alcohol levels. Most significantly, it was about this time when the rice, koji and water were added to the fermenting mash in two separate doses to help keep the yeast population at levels high enough to defeat bacterial intruders through sheer numbers. (This later evolved into three additions, as it remains today.) A form of yeast starter known as “Bodai-moto” was also developed by these clever clerics, and this is considered to be the roots of the kimoto yeast starter method, widely recognized as the original yeast starter method of modern sake brewing. Other significant technical developments from the Nara Buddhist temples include pasteurization and milling both the koji rice and the regular rice.

But in 1420, the military rulers made it officially illegal for Buddhist monks to drink, or for sake to be brought into Shinto shrines. While it is unclear how this was enforced, sake brewing began to move more actively into the then-equivalent of the private sector.

Still, these medieval entrepreneurs took the clerically developed technical advances and ran with them, slowly but surely improving both quality and economies of scale. Soon enough, places like Itami and then Nada (both in nearby Hyogo prefecture) rose as very prominent regions of sake production. But they had to attribute much of their success to the monks and priests of the temples and shrines.

Today, there are about ten Shinto shrines that still make a form of sake for religious purposes. But it is hardly the kind of sake we consumers normally enjoy. It is more like a wildly fizzy rice-dosed very thick nigori-zake (cloudy sake). Kind of like nigori on steroids.

Although all of this is a far cry from most ohttps://sake-world.com/sin/f the ginjo and other premium sake we all enjoy today, in a sense we owe a debt and at least an acknowledging thought of gratitude to the Buddhist and Shinto priests of old.

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Know more. Appreciate more.
Announcing the launch of a new sake publication, Sake Industry News, a twice-monthly newsletter covering news from within the sake industry in Japan. Free until December 1! Subscibe before then and enjoy an 80% discount for ever. Learn more here.

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Like all worlds, the sake world has its luminaries, its celebrities, and its legendary figures. It would stand to reason that such personages are usually the creators of sake with great reputations; in other words, we would naturally expect that most sake celebrities would be toji, the master brewers behind great brands of sake. However, quite paradoxically, oftentimes the very people that would qualify for such reputations are too humble to claim them. But there have been a few whose presence and reputation loom so large that they end up becoming reluctant legends.

Several years ago in this newsletter, I wrote about one such individual, Mr. Naohiko Noguchi. That article can be found here, but here is a bit more about the man himself, and his most recent endeavor.

Mr. Noguchi is a toji of the Noto guild, centered in Ishikawa Prefecture, as was his father and grandfather before him. He began brewing at age 16, and after short stints at kura in Shizuoka in Mie, in 1961 he was hired as the toji at Kikuhime back in Ishikawa. The brewery Kikuhime was very small back then, and their customer base consisted of mostly lumberjacks. Like, literally; lumberjacks. Not for them the light and delicate style that sake Mr. Noguchi was accustomed to making in Shizuoka and Mie! So he had to change things up a bit, and fast.

At that time, the yamahai methods – which lead to richer and more umami-laden sake – had all but disappeared from use, since the new (for that time) methods were faster and more predictable. So Mr. Noguchi found a kura in Kyoto still making the yamahai style that would teach him the ins and outs of actually brewing it.

Which he did, and did well. This had the multi-faceted benefit of making the lumberjacks happy, launching the reputation of his employer Kikuhime as well as that of the yamahai style of sake, and his own prowess as a toji to boot.

He reigned at Kikuhime until the retirement age of 65, garnering countless accolades along the way, and finally stepping down in 1997. The next year – yes – the very next year, he came out of “retirement” to work at nearby Kano Shuzo making the well-known sake Jokigen. This he did for 14 years, until 2012. Do that math: he retired the second time at 79.

Mind you, sake brewing is not exactly a desk job. As much as I love sake, I have known since the beginning that I am far too wimpy and far too easily distracted to even attempt a full season at a kura, much less a lifetime. But Mr. Noguchi did it until he was 79.

And then, he did it some more. There was one more short-lived, ill-fated project with which he was involved the next year, then he took a couple of years off. And in 2017 he came out of retirement one more time.

Why, you might ask? In his own words, “If I am not brewing sake, I get physically ill,” which in fact did happen. So it was back to sake brewing, this time as the toji at a newly constructed brewery, called “Noguchi Naohiko Kenkyu-jo,” a name which refers to the kura as a research center.

This is fitting since he hired seven younger people to work and study along with him as they brewed sake. This was at age 85, and this year they began their second brewing season, with Mr. Noguchi being 86. That’s eighty-six. Eighty. Six.

In January of this year I had the chance to visit the brewery, watch them brew for a while, and then – together with three industry colleagues – enjoy an audience with Mr. Noguchi. It was, undoubtedly, one of the most amazing encounters I have had in this industry. I had in fact met him once before about ten years ago, when I found him focused, strong-willed, yet light-hearted. But this time he seemed so much more immortal.

He has always impressed me as lucid, sharp, and articulate. Ironically, he speaks in a local dialect, Noto-ben, that is quite difficult for me to follow. In spite of that, his eloquence and clarity always show through.

But still, I had been expecting him to just be giving orders, grunting and pointing fingers to direct the brewing staff, and be hunched over charts of data curves. I did not expect him to be out in the mix, actually doing the brewing work.

But there he was: quick, dexterous and strong. Together with the young’uns, he was hauling just-steamed rice bundled in cloth, moving with speed and purpose. Later, he was in the koji-making rooms, which are kept between 35C and 45C (!) and at highly humid conditions, working on breaking up rice clumps and spreading and mixing koji mold. It is hard for a normal human being to just be in such an environment, and much harder to actually move and work in one. But there he was, looking as natural and at-home as he could be, exuding the comfort of one who knows just where he truly wants to be.

The brewery is set up for observation by visitors, with a long hallway with a glass wall facing the brewing area of the kura, raised to the level of the top of the tanks. The other wall is a long, granite tapestry of a gallery that highlights Mr. Noguchi’s life, career, and accomplishments.

By looking at that, one gets a sense of just how dedicated he has been to his craft over the years. On display were brewing texts, dog-eared and faded, filled with notes and highlights. He was said to have studied such texts so thoroughly that he memorized their content.

During our chat with him, as we discussed his career, he nonchalantly touched upon concepts like, “If you’re going to bother do something, you might as well strive to be the best at it,” and “At the end of the day, it’s the size of your dreams that counts.” He has a second career writing motivational books, I thought.

All of the above adulation notwithstanding, it is important to point out that I am just an admiring, doting fan. I never had to work under the gentleman. He was notoriously strict, having earned the nickname “demon.” In fact, his 2003 autobiography was entitled “Demon’s Sake.” So I might not be quite so gushing had I actually had that experience. Still, I am sure the level of respect would be just as high, albeit laced with a few more emotions. But what do I know?

I do have a friend that did in fact work under Mr. Noguchi for a good 20 years or so at Kikuhime. He did not say much about the experience, nor did I ask. But he did say that, even having worked in the same brewery together, he could not even speak directly to him while working for him, and in fact not even until about ten years after both had left the company. I’m just sayin’.

In interviews and press conferences held prior to the opening of this brewery, Mr. Noguchi has said several times, “It is my wish to die brewing sake.” Let us hope his wish does not come true for many years to come.

Mr. Noguchi is not the only great toji out there, nor is he the only famous toji. Far from it! The sake world has its own celebrities, more understated then their western counterparts though they may be. But their presence and aura invigorates the sake world, and makes it all that more interesting for all of us.

You can read a bit more about Mr. Noguchi here in this article that I wrote just as the kura opening was announced.

Also, the company with which he is now working is doing a great job of marketing (surely his presence make that easy!), and there is much about Mr. Noguchi in Japanese media.

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Sake Professional Course in San Francisco, September 2019

Sake rice: note the opaque center where the starch is concentrated.

In mid-September in San Francisco I will hold the next Sake Professional Course, the 49th running of the course. The final details have yet to be set in stone, and as such the course has not been formally announced. Nevertheless, I can take tentative reservations. If interested, please send me an email for more information.

For more information on the course, for now, you can check out the information on the just-finished Chicago course, which is here.

Sake Rice Survived a Couple of Typhoons, But How Did it Fare Otherwise?

In late October, the National Research Institute of Brewing in Japan released their annual rice report, loosely translated as the Suitability of This Year’s Rice to Sake Brewing Report. In short, the report analyzes the weather patterns of the previous summer, comparing it to analytical data, and predicts how well (or not well) this year’s rice harvest will dissolve in the fermenting mash.

Basically speaking, the more sunlight and heat the rice plant absorbs as it grows, the harder the grains will be when harvested. The harder the grains are, not surprisingly, the more stubbornly and slowly it will dissolve in the mash. This is pretty much a function of sunlight and average temperatures in primarily August and September.

So colder summers lead to softer rice that dissolves comparatively faster and leads to bigger and bouncier flavors, and hotter summers lead to slowly dissolving rice that leads to cleaner, more narrow flavor profiles. One is not unequivocally better than the other; it is all a matter of what kind of sake a brewer is trying to make, and getting the rice at hand to dovetail with the rest of the processes involved.

Of course, just how fast or slow a rice dissolves depends on a myriad of factors. How much water the rice was allowed to absorb, the amount and type of enzymes created by the koji, and the temperature of the fermenting mash are just a few of those. So in truth the best a report like this can do is to say, “in comparison to an average year, rice can be expected to dissolve in this way…” Brewers can then take into consideration the factors unique to their facility and methods to get an idea of what to expect.

Having information like this is extremely helpful to sake brewers. Why is this? Because the faster the rice dissolves, the fuller and more rambunctious the flavor of the sake will be. If the rice is expected to dissolve more readily than most years, brewers may want to rein that in. Conversely, if the rice is expected to dissolve more slowly, brewers might want to do what they can to hasten that dissolution.

What can they actually do as a countermeasure? Considering that most brewing decisions for a given product will remain the same, the most visible activity is adjusting the moisture content of the rice. That is accomplished by adjusting the amount of time the rice is soaked in water, and the precision with which that step is undertaken. There are of course other steps, but this is their first line of defense.

More often that not, brewers are loathe to let the rice absorb too much water. If anything err on the side of less moisture, and a slower dissolution. It is easier to speed it up later than to slow it down, or at least it is easier to make up for too little flavor than to rid a moromi (fermenting mash) of too much such sloppiness.

Of course, brewers – and toji (brewmasters) in particular – are not oblivious to the weather. Many will follow it closely and are in the rice fields and getting reports regularly throughout the season. So many may not feel the need to read this short four-page report. In truth, I have no idea! However, what is interesting is that this information is also there, and surely it is considered handy by many brewers in the country.

So what did the report say about the rice grown in 2018?

Interestingly, the report assesses the rice based on two things, where in Japan it grows, and when the ears of rice begin to appear on the rice plant. Naturally, these are related to how much heat and sunlight are absorbed. The sooner it is planted, the sooner the ears appear, and the more sunlight and heat it will be exposed to during a given summer. And this, of course, leads to hardness or softness in the rice grains once they are harvested.

And, so, the report reads thusly.

For early-harvest rice such as Gohyakumangoku for which the ears appear in mid-July, the rice is expected to be harder, and will not dissolve as readily as most years. But for rice in which the ears appear in the first ten days of August, typically grown in Northern Japan, the rice is expected to dissolve more readily than a typical year. And for rice that is particularly late harvest, like that grown in Western Japan (as is much of the best sake rice), in which the ears appear in late August – for the most part will be like a normal year, and compared to last year either the same or little bit harder.

These were the generalizations for the major growing regions. After this the report addressed a handful of smaller rice producing regions, and all were expected to dissolve more slowly excepting Hokkaido, the northern most island of Japan’s main four. Normally very cold, global warming is affecting rice growing up there, and Hokkaido rice is expected to dissolve comparatively readily.

The main point here is not to have people look out for Yamada Nishiki’s dissolution rate to be normal in next year’s sake while to be prepared to notice that Gohyakmangoku’s will be slower – all while enjoying sake and sushi with friends. Nah. Forget that; leave that to the brewers. Rather, it is interesting to see the connection between sake quality and climate. With sake, sometimes that can get overlooked.

For those that are interested the report can be read and downloaded here, although it is only in Japanese.

Sake Professional Course 

The next Sake Professional Course will be held in Chicago, April 23rd to 25th. It will be the 48th running of the course, and will be held on the second floor of the wonderful restaurant Sunda. While details are not yet complete, the generalities are set to the degree that I can respond to inquiries and accept reservations. To learn more about the Sake Professional Course, go here. To inquire about the Chicago course, go here and also please send me an email at sakeguy@gol.com . 

The sake of the Tohoku region in Japan has been showered with much-deserved attention over the past five to ten years. Certainly, it is worth it to learn a bit more about the area, and why their sake is so highly regarded.

Regionality in the sake world is fascinating to study, but it may be a bit further than most people want to go. Honjozo, junmai daiginjo, and “the glass in front in front of me now” may be plenty of sake study for most folks. And that’s fine; it is all about enjoyment after all. But like most things sake, a little study goes a long, long way. And it might not be so interesting to start by learning 47 new prefecture place names. But just one or two big-ass regions? Sure, we can do that.

If we are going to talk region, by all rights we should start with the Kansai region, wherein sits Hyogo (and therein Nada), Kyoto (and within it Fushimi), and Osaka. The first two (Nada and Fushimi) are the largest producing regions of sake in the country, and historically the most significant. But since Tohoku is “big in Japan” right about now, let us start there.

Where is the Tohoku region? It’s easy to remember: it is the top third of the main island of Japan. It consists of six of Japan’s 47 prefectures, all larger than average. (The cheap-looking photo was taken in the office of the Tohoku region Tax Office in the city of Sendai, Miyagi Prefecture, when I was up there as a judge last week.) Those are Aomori, Akita, Iwate, Yamagata, Miyagi and Fukushima.

Let us look at why the sake of Tohoku – as a region overall – is so popular, and also at what the main identifying characteristics of the various prefectures are.

Perhaps one of the biggest reasons the sake of Tohoku is so well known is the region’s success in the Zenkoku Shinshu Kampyoukai, or “National New Sake Tasting Competion,” held each May in Japan. (The official English translation is the Japan Sake Awards, but I like my unofficial but more direct translation better.)

Sake brewed just for this contest (i.e. not normal sake you can buy at the store) is submitted and blindly tasted and judged. While many consumers do not even know this contest exists, it is a very prestigious event in the sake world. And over the past ten or fifteen years, Tohoku sake has done very, very well.

In particular, Fukushima Prefecture has won more gold medals than any other prefecture for the last four years in a row, and in seven out of the last ten years. Only vaunted Niigata and Tohoku neighbor Yamagata are close to that performance. This contest demonstrates brewers’ command of the highest levels of brewing skill, and as the results might suggest, currently this brings lots of attention to the sake of Tohoku.

The Japan national competition is one big one, but there are a handful of other competitions both in and outside of Japan to which many people pay attention. If you look at the results of these blind tasting competitions, there are a handful of brands that very often rise to the top. Quite often, these are of a light, fine-grained, bright and aromatic style. And this style is precisely what Tohoku does well.

While the style of sake that often does well in such contests is far, oh-so-very-far, from the be-all end-all of what makes a good sake, or what everyone likes, the results do indicate what is consistently popular based on one figure of merit.

But the point is that the style of sake made by many of the brewers in the Tohoku region is that kind of fine-grained, light and clean style; it is a style that is approachable and likeable. And this is yet another explanation of why the region is popular and worthy of attention: it makes the kind of sake that people these days like.

It is extremely important to emphasize that this is only one style. Many sake fans from the western half of Japan would find Tohoku sake too light, with no body, umami, or earthiness, and perhaps find it challenging to pair with food – especially in comparison to the rich, broad, umami-laden sake of their own region. We are only looking at one snapshot of all the great sake that is out there.

What makes the sake of the region taste this way? Many things, of course. One is climate. It’s colder up there, and when you brew and subsequently mature at colder temperatures, you end up with lighter, cleaner sake. Higher temperatures give fuller bodies. Think lagers and ales.

Next would be the support of the prefectural governments. While all regions in Japan have this to some degree, Fukushima, Yamagata, and Akita in particular have very active sake research organizations. These are run by the local governmental industrial research center or tax administration, and crank out sake-brewing technology, new rice strains and new yeast strains that constantly and consistently raise the Tohoku bar.

Then there is rice itself, of course. Most of the Tohoku prefectures are large rice-producing prefectures as well. While most of this is for eating, they all produce plenty of one variety or another of sake rice. The aforementioned colder climate means the indigenous strains of rice are generally smaller than their western-Japan counterparts, leading to the more narrow flavor profiles of the area.

Each of the six prefectures of the Tohoku region has plenty that could be said bout them. A “sake readers digest” version might look something like the below.

Fukushima has about 70 active breweries, ensuring a wide range of styles, and three distinct geographies: an oceanside, planes and mountains, with most breweries in the prefecture located in the last of these. Miyagi has about 40 breweries, and an inordinately large amount of what they make is junmai. Yamagata right next door makes just as inordinately large amount of ginjo compared to other types, and has lots of fragrant, light sake coming from the 40 or so kura there. Iwate is the home of the most prominent and accomplished guild of toji (master brewers), the Nanbu guild, but only 25 active kura. Much of their sake is light, but a few rich, reverberating deep sake are made there too.Akita sake, made by the 50-odd active breweries there, is often rich but seems quite fine-grained to me, with of course the requisite exceptions. And at the very top of the region is Aomori, with 20 breweries making a richer, sweeter style than the rest of the region.

While the above-described styles are of course vague, with exceptions and variation across each prefecture, the region in general does confirm to the light, crisp, aromatic style that is quite popular today. And while each prefecture is much deserving of detailed study, knowing a bit about the region goes along way too. It is, after all, Tohoku time.

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Sake Professional Course

The next Sake Professional Course will be held in Las Vegas, Nevada on November 27 to 29.  As of today, only three (3) seats remain open.

The content of this intensive sake course will be identical to that of the Sake Professional Course held each January in Japan. The course is recognized by the Sake Education Council, and those that complete it will be qualified to take the exam for Certified Sake Specialist, which will be offered on the evening of the last day of the course.

Learn more about the course here. You can read Testimonials from past participants here.

If you would like to make a reservation or to be placed on the notification list, please send an email to that purport to sakeguy@gol.com.