It was well into the evening when the phone rang, but my caller i.d. told me the call was from a brewer in Akita Prefecture. Since he fits into both the friend and business associate categories, I picked it up.

“Du-hu-hu-hu-de. I’m pretty ha-a-a-a-mmered.” Not your typical call from the owner of a prestigious sake brewery, to say the least.

And to what do I owe this honor? Surely there must be a reason you have called at this hour and in this, er, state?

Indeed, indeed. Today was ‘kaizo.’ It’s over. We are done for the season.

That’s it. Kaput! All we have to do is clean up and we are outta here until the fall.” He seemed to momentarily forget he lived in the old house attached to the kura. “And, thanks to your support,” he continued with typical Japanese uber-humility, “we managed to finish the brewing season this year without any major difficulties.” I was fairly sure I myself had nothing to do with that, and of course politely deferred.

“Wow,” I responded. “That’s great. Congratulations. Another season down! I am sure you are relieved, and I am just as sure your sake will be kick-ass again this year.”

The true reason behind their call, driven though it was by the unbridled exuberance of the “kaizou” party, was to thank me for a positive assessment of a new sake they came out with that I was fortunate enough to have been able to taste several days earlier. I had recently ran into the two of them by coincidence, armed with a bottle, at a sake pub the night before a big Tokyo tasting. Regardless, it was great fun to hear from them, and congratulate them on completing the season.

“Hold on. There is someone here that wants to talk to you.” The cell phone got dropped at least twice and bashed into something made of glass on its way to whomever it was destined. Things like that happen in a room full of happy, buzzed sake brewers. Actually, I knew who it was going to be before I even heard the familiar voice.

“Du-hu-hu-hu-de. I’m pretty hammered too-hu-hu-hu.” It was the relatively young toji (master brewer) at that kura. “We made it through yet another season. And thanks to your support, we finished without a hitch…”

It was fun to hear from them, late though it might have been, and they certainly deserved to celebrate.

As many readers certainly recall, sake brewing runs roughly from the fall until the spring. Just when a kura begins to brew sake and when they finish for the year depends on a number of factors, including of course how much they brew. On top of this, dynamics including the number of brewers, number of tanks, size of the batches, how old or new their equipment is, and how often they fire up a new batch will all combine to determine just when they start and end. But typically it runs from mid-October to mid-April.

As the season draws to a close, there are two significant days that the people in the brewery owners and brewers together will celebrate. One is called “koshiki-taoshi,” the other is “kaizou.”

“Koshiki-taoshi” means “overturning the rice steaming vat.” A koshiki is the large vat in which rice is steamed every morning or so. In days of olde, the koshiki was made of wood (sugi, i.e. cryptomeria) and sat on top of a large iron cauldron of water (called a wagama) that tapers at the top.

Today only a handful of kura use wooden koshiki anymore. The craftsmen to make them are also all but gone. Most are steel these days, and in fact, many are fully automatic. Long ago, when the last vat of rice had been steamed, the koshiki would be turned over onto its side, cleaned thoroughly, and left to dry and be put into storage until next season. This is the term to which koshiki-taoshi refers.

When the last batch of rice has been steamed for the year, the brewers can see the light at the end of the brewing-season’s tunnel, hence the celebratory nature of the day.

Of course, that last day’s vat of rice will then be added to the last tank still fermenting, and after that there is still three weeks or more of waiting for those last few batches to finish fermenting, and then be pressed and sent to mature for a while. So their work is far from done. Koshiki-taoshi means only that there is no more rice to be steamed. Within two days, there will be no more koji to be made, and soon after that it is simply a matter of waiting. They know they are getting close to the end of six months or more of long, hard days.

Often in these modern times, automated koshiki are equipped in such a way that they can be turned sideways to make it easier to scoop out the rice. Kinda makes knocking them over a bit anticlimactic. Also, large brewers have continuous rice steamers, large contraptions that steam rice as it moves along on a mesh conveyor belt over steam, and constantly crank it out. So at such places there is no koshiki to knock over. But nonetheless, a ceremony and small party are held to acknowledge the significance of the last steaming of the season.

The next milestone is “kaizo.” “Kaizo” is written with characters that mean “all (has been) made,” and naturally enough indicates the day on which the last tank has been pressed, and therefore all the sake for the year has been brewed. All there is left to do is to sweep up, tidy up, and pack up.

After one or the other – or perhaps even both – of these significant days, the brewers and other employees of a sake brewery will often have a little bash in the kura. The kuramoto (brewery owner) will prepare a nice dinner, there will be warm toasts to each other, and there will be plenty of sake consumed. Also, newly made sake is offered to the gods in thanks for the blessings of the brewing season.

While, from what I have heard, it is more common to have this little party after koshiki-taoshi, obviously the folks at some places (like my friend in the intro) wait until kaizo, when presumably they can sleep late the next day.

Back in the 1960s when several of the larger kura rode continued growth to mammoth-hood, they began to brew all year round, in what is called “shiki-jozo,” or “four-season brewing.” However, as sake consumption has dropped off, especially that of cheap sake, the need for year-round brewing has dropped off, and none of the big brewers are doing this any longer.

But interestingly, there are a handful of smaller brewers that brew basically all year, freezing the rice for use in the summer, and brewing at a more manageable, mellow pace. This pace might be starting a batch once or twice a week rather than everey day. Just when these places celebrate koshiki-taoshi is not clear. But I am sure they work it in somewhere!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Be sure to look for my new book, Sake Confidential, due out in June. You can reserve your copy now at Amazon!

In over two-dozen short essays presented in a very informal and conversational tone, “the truth about sake” is revealed. The truth about junmai types versus non-junmai types, the truth about the impossibly detailed craft of sake brewing, the truth about temperature, premium types, aging, purity, pasteurization and regionality are all touched upon.

How the industry works, its challenges and strengths, what really creates sake flavors and aromas, specs you can safely ignore, and what hype you can safely avoid are all fair game. You’ll learn what goes into sake pricing, and how brewers get their rice. How to choose sake, and how to improve your tasting ability are also part of the fun. Suffice it to say that nowhere else is so much detailed information about the realities of the sake world assembled together into one place.

– See more at: http://sake-world.com/#sthash.5LOAMrBD.dpuf

Sake Confidential: A Beyond-the-Basics Guide to Understanding, Tasting, Selection, and Enjoyment

by John Gauntner, published by Stone Bridge Press, Berkeley CA

Today’s sake drinkers are increasingly informed and educated. Most people that enjoy sake know the basics of what sake is, how it is made, and what the grades are. So now is the time for a more in-depth look at the various aspects of sake and the sake world that make it the most interesting beverage on the planet.

In over two-dozen short essays presented in a very informal and conversational tone, “the truth about sake” is revealed. The truth about junmai types versus non-junmai types, the truth about the impossibly detailed craft of sake brewing, the truth about temperature, premium types, aging, purity, pasteurization and regionality are all touched upon.

How the industry works, its challenges and strengths, what really creates sake flavors and aromas, specs you can safely ignore, and what hype you can safely avoid are all fair game. You’ll learn what goes into sake pricing, and how brewers get their rice. How to choose sake, and how to improve your tasting ability are also part of the fun. Suffice it to say that nowhere else is so much detailed information about the realities of the sake world assembled together into one place.

The book is laid out in such a way that readers can jump around to topics that hold appeal, or read it from beginning to end. The very first chapter is a minimalist version of all things sake, after which each topic is covered in scrutinizing detail.

Sake Confidential will be available in bookstores in June; you can pre-order your copy at Amazon here:  http://www.amazon.com/Sake-Confidential-Beyond-Basics-Understanding/dp/1611720141

The concept of “filtering” in sake can be a slightly confusing one. One reason is that, at least in English, sake is filtered a couple of times.

For example, as most readers surely recall, sake is made by a process in which rice dissolves and its starch gets converted into sugar, and at the same time in the same tank a separate process is also taking place – that of yeast converting that sugar to alcohol. So starch-to-sugar and sugar-to-alcohol happen in parallel. What this also means is that when fermentation is complete, we still have a bunch of rice solids in the tank, components of the rice that could not be converted into sugar-then-alcohol.

So, that has to be filtered out. The mash is passed through a mesh of some sort – there are various methods – to hold back the solids and let the sake go through. So, it’s filtered. However, in the sake-brewing industry, a different word is used; this name for this process is translated as “squeezing” or “pressing.” And, in fact, many sake texts and articles in English also use the word pressing to talk about that first filtration of rice solids.

But there is a second filtration. After the sake has been pressed, and at some time during its maturation period, often it is mixed with a fine charcoal powder and/or diatomaceous earth, and after those particles settle out, it is passed through a series of paper filters to filter out the stuff they just put in.

The good news – and the reason they do this in the first place – is that these porous active charcoal particles absorb several things. These include elements that give a goldenrod color to sake, things that can contribute roughness to the flavor, and even some bacteria that would be detrimental to the stability of the sake.

Sometime about 40 to 50 years ago, some brewers began using this active charcoal, and the resulting clean and clear sake became popular. And as a result, most of the sake adopted the practice too. And it is a good one – it serves a purpose that leads to great sake. Of course, it can be overdone, and it can be done poorly. But when done right and in the proper measure, it is a good thing.

This step, by the way, is also a filtration, and this one is actually called as such by the brewing industry. Roka means filtration, and its opposite, muroka, means unfiltered in the sense that no powdered active charcoal was used.

However, not all sake goes through this process. Not all sake needs to! It depends on the brewer, the method, the style of sake and even the water used. Some brew in a way that the sake comes out clear and clean, and simply do not need to do this step. Others prefer the goldenrod color deliberately avoid the charcoal. And others aim for a big, rougher, almost mineral-laced flavor and therefore omit this process.

There are also other ways to filter: ceramic filtration system and other solid-state mechanical filtration systems can be used. So charcoal is not the only way to go, but it does seem to be the most powerful way to remove color and roughness.

So, muroka refers to sake that does not go through charcoal filtration. Note, though, that this is not a legally-defined term, so that there can be and is some variance on the usage of the term. And we just have to deal with that. But I digress.

Bear in mind, though, this important point: Muroka is not unequivocally better than its charcoal filtered counterpart. It might seem that way to some, right? Natural. Unfiltered. Unsullied. And it is surely marketed that way by some. But it is not true. Sure, there is plenty of great muroka out there. If part of the deliberate design of the product, it often contributes to character and enjoyableness. But the charcoal-filtration process is a very precise, delicate and craftsmanship-laden one that contributes to better sake. So both are great for what they are.

This is one of those things that concerns me in the sense that a misunderstanding could hinder the growth of popularity of sake. It is like the thinking that says nama is better than pasteurized sake, or that aged is more special than young sake, or that junmai is better than non-junmai types (for any one of a myriad of silly reasons). Nama-sake (unpasteurized sake) is great! Aged sake can be fascinating and wonderful! And junmai-shu is without a doubt outstanding sake and an outstanding brewing philosophy! But these types are not at all unequivocally better than their (pasteurized, youthful, or added-alcohol) counterparts. Not at all.

And muroka sake is another one of these. Just because it says muroka on the label does not mean it is going to be … anything. It will not be better simply by virtue of that. It may not even be bigger or rougher. It might be – but nothing is guaranteed simply by virtue of the word muroka being present.

The best principle is of course to gather your own experience – try both and note your observations. You may end up preferring sake made using one method over sake made using the other. But chances are you will find that it depends much more on a dozen other things going on with the sake, and with your own preferences.

Sake Today – the world’s first sake-only magazine! Get yours today www.sake-today.com .

The acidity – or rather, the acid content, of a sake is from commonly listed on sake labels in Japan. While this is less common overseas, and that might not change (no great loss, really), it is still worth knowing just what it is and what it reflects. But it is not exactly an intuitive indicator.

The numbers that express the san-do (acidity) are generally between about 1.0 and 2.0 or so. That is not a wide range, and most often the number seems to be about 1.1 or 1.2. The question is, 1.1 or 1.2 what?

Years ago, I began a quest to understand this. In turned out to be a monumental effort. I searched high and low, and asked almost everyone I could (outside of sake brewers themselves). Responses to this question placed to those that “should” know gave rise to whole plethora of silly answers. “Well, ..er, they’re units! Yeah, units.” Percent, tenths of a percent, and parts per million were some other replies, all expressed with sincerity and confidence.

It was truly hard to find anyone that knew in the world outside of sake breweries. Not that it is going to make that much of a difference in the enjoyment of sake, but you think people would be curious. Finally, I went straight to the source, and found out from a brewer.

Momentarily digressing beyond the normal scope of this newsletter and delving into a mercifully short chemistry lesson, here’s the explanation.

The number expressing the san-do of a nihonshu is the number of milliliters of liquid sodium hydroxide needed to neutralize ten milliliters of sake. It is, in other words, measured by titration, just as it is in wine.

So, what does all that mean to the average taster? Basically the acidity (and to a degree, the amino acid content) can give you at least a vague idea of what a sake might taste like just from looking at the label.

In particular, the acidity and the nihonshu-do are very often used together to give a pre-purchase indication of what the flavor profile might be like. A good high acidity may increase the sense of dryness of a sake by lightening and spreading out the flavor. A low acid content, on the other hand, can help a sake to feel fuller and heavier, and increase a sense of sweetness.

There are so many things that affect the fragrance and taste of a sake that to allow the description to depend on two parameters is limiting at best. But you have to try.

Modern Methods of Measurement

To a slight degree, the various grades of sake can be vaguely generalized by typical acid content. For example, ginjo-shu often has slightly lower acidity, being light and fruitier. Junmaishu usually has acidity levels slightly higher on the scale. Sake made with the kimoto or yamahai method of preparing the moto will have even higher amounts of acid present, and can be quite puckering. But as in all things sake, there is great overlap here.

But all this techno-babble is really only moderately useful, and only before you’ve tasted a sake. Once you’ve tasted it, you know all you need to know about acidity, sweet and dry, fullness of body and anything else.

Also, the method of measuring acid in sake is very similar to the methods for measuring acidity in wine: titration. And if one wanted to, one can express the total (almost) acidity of sake in terms of, for example, tartaric acid by multiplying the acidity number by 0.075. For comparison, sake has the equivalent of about 0.1 to 0.2 gms/100ml, comparted to an average of 0.5 to 0.9 gms/100ml in white wine.

The level of acidity will not always match presence of acidic flavor (known as the san-mi) in

Rare shot of rice when flowering (Psst! It’s Yamada Nishiki!)

the sake, due to alcohol, water quality, type of rice and other factors. Some sake will taste sharp and cutting, when in fact the acidity is not that high chemically. The opposite can also be true.

In the end it’s just a number, more useful to brewers than to consumers. At the same time, paying attention to acidity, amino acid content and nihonshu-do can be fun. Doing so can give rise to lively discussion, and help us pay more attention to our perceptions

Certainly most readers are aware that rice is not just rice, and that sake rice is better for making sake than regular “table” rice. And surely most readers are also aware that there are various varieties of sake rice, each with its attendant flavors and brewing characteristics. And doubtlessly, most readers know that for lots of reasons, Yamada Nishiki is widely considered the best – even if it is decidedly not the only game in town.

But did you know that not all Yamada Nishiki is created equal, and that there are in fact twenty four different grades of Yamada Nishiki? Well, sort of, anyway…

The “sort of” caveat comes about because not everyone agrees on all aspects of the system that has been set up. On top of that, while there are indeed 24, there is not an absolute hierarchy or order amongst them, as some exist in parallel, and others exist only unofficially.

Let us start with the easy stuff. Rice is usually inspected by the government for quality. The things that are assessed are size, the number of grains with a visible shinpaku (starchy center), the number of cracked grains, the number of undeveloped green grains, and more.

Most rice for eating has three classes, san-to (3rd class), ni-to (2nd class) and itto (1st class). Sake rice has two more on top of that, toku-to (special class) and toku-jo (top special class). Then there is of course the inevitable amount of rice that is not even inspected, for one reason or another. This adds up to a total of six different grades of rice (including not even inspected, that is), and this will apply to any sake rice out there.

Note, if a sake is not made with an inspected rice, the brewer cannot put a special grade name on the label. In other words, if the rice is not at least inspected then it cannot be sold as a ginjo, a junmai or a honjozo. (Let it suffice to say that this point is a rabbit hole to be saved for another newsletter.)

So we have six grades for all sake rice, grown anywhere in Japan.

Next, let us focus on Hyogo, the origin of Yamada Nishiki rice. Hyogo is also where it grows best – but note it can be (and is!) grown in many other prefectures as well. Even within Hyogo, there are a few villages nestled next to the mountains that have perfect climactic conditions for growing Yamada Nishiki, and a couple of villages – even a couple of fields – from which the absolute best stuff comes.

Over time, a system of ranking these regions came into existence. It was naturally enough created and driven by the farmers that produce Yamada Nishiki, through the local agricultural cooperative. It was and is also supported at least a bit by the Hyogo Prefectural Government.

In short, the few fields that consistently produce the absolute best Yamada Nishiki are designated at as “Toku A,” (Special A) fields. Those in the immediate vicinity that are almost as good but not quite there are called “A” fields. Others in Hyogo that are not in the area are called “B” fields. And fields growing Yamada outside of Hyogo are doing it in fields called “C” fields.

Note, though, two things. One, only the top two are commonly used. In fact, I only recently heard of a brewer speak of B and C fields, and know that there are others who do not use that nomenclature at all. It is not law nor obligatory. And two, even the “Special A” and “A” designations are based on agreements amongst the farmers. While they take practical and legal measures to protect and promote this system, it is not the law nor official in any other sense. Also, the fact that the system is recognized at all is proof of the quality of the rice that comes from that region. If the rice were not that good, everyone would just ignore them.

This ranking of rice paddies is another rabbit hole, albeit it a very interesting one. You can read more about that system, called the “muramaiseido,” here if you like:
http://www.sake-world.com/html/sw-2009_3.html

One more thing to note: while the above ranking of fields is an unofficial system, the inspection of rice is a very official and very regulated system. There are concrete, objective points that are observed and recorded, and they are more or less the same for every inspector everywhere.

So we have four grades of fields, and six grades of rice. That gives a total of 24 possible grades of rice. However, most of them we will just never see.

If the ranking of the field is listed on the label, we only really see “Special A” or “A” on a label. No one will write “B” or “C” for all to see. This is for two reasons: one, no one brags about being second or third, and two, the field designation system is only officially recognized inside the “Yamada Nishiki Club,” (my term!) or those that own and till the best fields. No outside of their considers or calls their fields B, and no one outside considers their fields C fields. “That’s a Hyogo thing,” disdained one brewer north of Tokyo in response to my question about his home-grown Yamada.

Also, many that grow their Yamada Nishiki outside of Hyogo are proud of that. And rightfully so! “It’s local, man, and it’s good.” So we often see the region listed on the label, even when it is not Hyogo. My point here is that just because it is not Hyogo-grown does not at all mean it is not great. Hyogo just markets better as a region. But I digress.

Also, there is lots of overlap between these regional rankings and inspected grades. There is not a linear progression across all 24 types. In other words, it is very, very likely that the “special class” rice of a good field outside of Hyogo is better than the “1st class” rice of a Hyogo field, and that the “top special class” of a field in Hyogo but not from one of the “Yamada Nishiki Club” fields is better than lots of the special class from that hallowed region. The permutations of this argument are endless, and I think readers can see the complexities involved.

Paring it all down to what is really important, if you see “Toku A” field designation for Yamada Nishiki, and / or “Tokujo” grade rice listed on the label, you know you have something great in your hands. And bear in mind that there are, if we count ’em, 24 different possibilities about sources for Yamada Nishiki. But just remember it is a great rice, and if it has been used to make the sake before you, it has a head start on many other sake.

Beyond that, absorb what information has been provided, and enjoy it. That’s enough.

Earlier this fall, I was privileged enough to attend a tasting of all sake made by Honda Shoten, brewers of Tatsuriki sake in Hyogo. For these guys, it is all about the rice, as well it should be. They are right in the backyard of perhaps the best rice fields in Japan, and have access to obscenely good Yamada Nishiki, but also to outstanding Omachi, Shinriki and other rice varieties. Some of their better sake can get a bit pricey but are worth it for those that understand what great rice is all about.

The mid-sized room encompassed long tables paralleling the walls in a concentric rectangle, with sake spaced evenly around all four lengths. The most expensive sake sat closest to the door, and in spite of it being labeled numbers one to five, I resisted the urge to dive in there, feeling it somehow disrespectful to the sake itself, inanimate though it now was. I passed it by, intending to return after warming up my palate, a promise to myself I later kept.

In the back right corner sat a half dozen sake, all of them tokubetsu junmai, all made with a different rice. Yamada Nishiki. Omachi. Shinriki. Yamadaho. Gohyakumangoku. They were lined up next to each other, offering a rare and outstanding comparison of great rice, with more flavor intact than might be with a higher grade than these tokubetsu junmai. The exercise was as educational and gratifying as I had mentally billed it to be, and I moved on. After another half-round of the room, directly opposite the comparative tasting just described, I came to the same sake lined up again – but this time, they were nama. In other words, unpasteurized.

As most readers surely recall, almost all sake has been pasteurized twice – once after pressing on its way to the maturation tank, and once again on the way from that to the bottle. There are a handful of variations to this pattern, and amongst those of course is totally unpasteurized sake, i.e. nama-zake.

Certainly nama-zake has its appeal. But I have long held that most of the time, sake that has been properly (read: gently, just enough to provide stability) pasteurized offers more depth by virtue of eliminating a veil-like set of characteristic aromas and flavors. The key phrase here is “most of the time.” There is plenty of very delicious nama-zake out there, much of it deep and complex. And while nama is not inherently better than its pasteurized counterpart, it is almost always very enjoyable provided it has been cared for properly, i.e. kept cold. Still, most of the time, I prefer sake in which I can perceive depth of flavor and aromas, and that more often than not means pasteurized sake.

And here was an exemplar case of why I feel that way. The nama-zake made from the different rice types had about as much subtlety as a set of cinder blocks. They were very tasty cinder blocks, mind you! All five of them were delicious. But they were big, they were bold, and they were dense. Amidst that stone-like opacity, I could not even begin to see the differences or typical characteristics of the individual rice types, at least not nearly as well as I had just a handful of bottles previous.

All I could say was, “Yup; it’s nama.” Don’t get me wrong; it was good! But all subtleties of rice difference were lost in the nama-ness affront on my palate.

This is not intended as a disparaging rant on nama-zake; not at all! It can be wonderful, indeed. Just remember it is not unequivocally better, and that from time to time, some subtleness and depth might be the price for enjoying its fresh, lissome youth. This is a matter of personal opinion, of course, so by all means taste enough to form your own.

Kanagawa, just below Tokyo, is not exactly a hotbed of hot brewers. Sure, there is good sake from amongst the prefecture’s comparatively scant 16 kura. But it is not a region most sake fans would gravitate toward when it comes to selecting recently hip sake. Then there is Tensei.

Tensei is made by Kumazawa Shuzo, a great example of what fresh, new, youthful thinking that is decidedly out of the box can do in turning around one company – and by extension – the industry.

Their story is a long-ish one, and best saved for its own limelight. But in order to inch our way back to the topic here, one of the ways Tensei got back on track was to start a club, a simple pre-sale of a tank of sake.

Those of us that have over the past 20 years supported Tensei will pay a modest sum for three bottles of sake. But we pay in advance, and give the toji total freedom to pull out all the stops. He will use the best rice, yeast and methods he can. And it usually goes very well. But since we have supported him by paying in advance, if it falls short, we have supported him with a lesson learned.

Most years it is great. But last year, i.e. the three bottles I got in June of 2012, were decidedly thinner, and the aromas were laced with what is called ethyl caproate, giving it a bit of apple but underpinned by a bitter layer. OK, fine, I thought. If he does not push the envelope once in a while, he will not get better.

And I drank ‘em. All three. They were fine, if not the rockin’ and interesting stuff I have come to expect from Tensei. I usually drink their junmai ginjo, and that has remained steady and unchanged, so no real problem.

And then came this year. I had subconsciously lowered my expectations for the club stuff. And when it arrived, I gave it the fair shot, full professional concentration applied. And, boy, did it rock. I mean, outstanding. “Hodo hodo” is the term in Japanese; just enough, but not too much. Just enough umami, maturity, breadth, aroma… I really found it great.
And as such wasted no time in emailing the toji to let him know as much. I simply expressed how balanced it was, compared to last year. He responded almost immediately.

Last year,” he began, “based on our initial findings, we expected the rice to dissolve quickly and thoroughly.” Each year, sake brewers begin the season with lower grades, partly to feel out the year’s rice. How did weather affect things? Will it dissolve quickly, leading to full flavors, or out-of-control rough ones if not reined in? Or will it resist dissolving, be hard, which could lead to not enough flavor and an overall tight profile unless coaxed into dissolving via higher moisture content and other methods.

“And so,” he continued, “we treated it as such, keeping the moisture in check so as to eliminate any overbearing or sloppy flavors in the final product. However, when we got to our top daiginjo, the rice did not cooperate. Hence the narrow flavor profile.” And this is why sake brewing is so challenging and interesting. One can have reams of data, but if the fickle micro-organisms and other elements do not feel like going along with that data, the result may go off on a tangent. Textbooks alone will simply not cut it.

“This year, he added, “it behaved as we expected, and everything worked like a charm. Hence the great balance, ideal level of fullness and umami, and as-predicted maturity.”
“Be sure,” he concluded, “to save one for at least six month. The real umami and richness will become even more apparent!” And so I will.

I think that rice is not considered to change much from year to year, when it fact, it does vary hugely. And these variations do have an effect on the final product from year to year. However, so much manhandling of the raw materials takes place after harvest that good craftsmen can and do smooth out these differences in favor of the year-to-year consistence that is, in fact, their goal.

Interestingly, most brewers cover these year-to-year changes on the fly. The sake in which they are most evident are sake from impossibly tiny brewers (which the brewery that makes Tensei is not) and one-off sake such as this club sake, or contest sake. It is harder to blend differences into oblivion, or tweak them away when working with little else to use in blending, or sake that changes from year to year.

Rice is awfully hard to second guess. Yes, it varies. And yes, good brewers can work with that variation. But no, it cannot be done based on rules or textbooks, at least not as well as it can be done via experience and intuition.

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More about the seminar, its content and day-to-day schedule, can be found here:
http://www.sake-world.com/html/spclv.html

The Sake Professional Course, with Sake Education Council-recognized Certified Sake Professional certification testing, is by far the most intensive, immersing, comprehensive sake educational program in existence. The three-day seminar leaves “no sake stone unturned.”

The tuition for the course is $825. Feel free to contact me directly at sakeguy@gol.com with any questions about the course, or to make a reservation.

What is happening in the brewing world itself…

Changing Sake Flavor Profiles
A survey by the Ministry of Taxation on sake flavor profiles for last year showed a couple of interesting trends.

In short, the trend for junmai-shu to be both drier and richer continued. For better or for worse, more intense junmai has become more popular. Also, in ginjo-shu, the alcohol content and amount of a compound called ethyl caproate (think “apples” in your ginjo) also increased. So brewers are taking the sake of those grades further into their archetypal manifestations. Overall acidity of premium sake stayed pretty much the sake, but the umami-yielding amino acid content dropped a bit. The sweet/dry and richness of non-junmai premium sake (basically ginjo-shu) also stayed the same.

While this may not be so useful in our everyday sake sipping endeavors, it is interesting to hover over and observe the changes and trends.

Special Clause 87 Extended Again
In January, the Ministry of Taxation again extended Special Clause 87 for a couple of years. As you all likely remember, SC87 gives tax breaks to smaller brewers, which means almost everybody, since the industry is so polarized.

How polarized? Out of 1260 breweries, about 15 make about 50% of the sake. About 1000 are very, very small.

Traditional Sakagura (sake brewery)

The original clause gave a 30% break to these smaller brewers, and as it expired, the industry (well, most of it!) sought a permanent extension. The compromise was a 20% break for five more years (actually, it is a bit more complicated than that, but that is the gist). So the can has been kicked down the road a bit, but hopefully, over the next five years, profits will rise, and will not stand to lose the hundreds of brewers we might have lost this time, had it expired.

Yamada Nishiki Shortage
The harvest of Hyogo-Prefecture-grown Yamada Nishiki last year was down for a handful of reasons, and the impact is being felt throughout the industry.

The rice grown is sold to the Brewers Associations of the various prefectures, rather than to individual brewers. And Hyogo Prefecture has told at least a few prefectures that they would only get 88% of what they ordered.

It was indeed a less-than-copious harvest. But there are other reasons and rumors swirling about too. While keeping the homeboys of Hyogo and the most important customers happy before supplying those far away is certainly part of it, there is more. For example, one source told me (on condition of anonymity) that the Tohoku region sold a lot of sake fast after 3/11/11, and needed to outsource some of that from Western Japan, who then needed to replenish their stocks, hence driving demand for Yamada up. Another source said that Hyogo Prefecture tightened their standard for top-inspected-grade “Tokujo” Yamada Nishiki to raise the image of Hyogo-grown Yamada, thus lessening the supply of same. There are other interpretations as well.

In any event, this and the fact that there have been overall price increases on most rice this year means we may see an increase in sake prices come next fall.

A Snapshot of the Sake Industry
As it is today: Statistics and Politics
In a change of pace from the technical – cultural – historical topics most commonly covered here, let us look a snapshot of the sake-brewing industry in Japan, the stats that surround it, and the politics that suffuse it.

In short, the sake industry in Japan is not exactly thriving. Yet things of recent are at least a smidgeon better than they were. Unless they’re not.

Statistics. We all know the clichés surrounding statistics. They can indeed be confusing.

For example, if I look at the statistics for the sake brewing community published in industry rags, there are just tons of ‘em. We have stats for calendar years (January to December), fiscal years (April to March) and “Brewing Years”, a period unique to the sake world that runs from July 1 to June 30 of the following year. Then there are monthly statistics as compared to the same period last year, and year-to-date stats as well. Some go up, some go down, they often contradict each other, and lead to radically different interpretations.

And all of these exist for each prefecture, and each major region in Japan as well. Furthermore, they are broken down for cheap sake and premium sake too. While each statistic is in and of itself significant to somebody somewhere, taken together they are just overwhelming. What’s a budding analyst to do?

Cutting to the chase, the sake industry overall was in decline for 16 straight years before rising a whopping one percent last year. But the upward trend has seemingly continued into this year, although not every prefecture was up every month. I then read that demand was mysteriously lower this fall, the period when sake usually sells the most. Yet, year to date numbers are still up for 2012 as a whole.

Next, the big talk is how the larger brewers are not raising prices due to price wars on their cheapest sake, sold in 2-liter boxes to the supermarkets. As such, revenues are way, way down. If volume is up but revenues are down, things cannot be said to be improving.

And, since 75% of the market is inexpensive sake, these things cannot be ignored. But the numbers for premium sake (junmai-shu, and the four classes of ginjo-shu, but NOT including honjozo-shu) are up an average of 5% almost without exception. Which is good news… right?

In the end, all we can do is take a bird’s eye view and assess things in the broadest terms, using statistics over the longest term. And things do, from that vantage point, seem to be subtly improving.

Next, a few months ago, the then-State Minister for National Policy, Mr. Motohisa Furukawa, designated sake as Japan’s “National Alcoholic Beverage” and began the “Enjoy Japanese Kokushu (national alcoholic beverage)” initiative.

However, a few weeks ago, Mr. Furukawa was replaced in a cabinet reshuffle. Will his replacement, Mr. Seiji Maehara, pursue the sake-aid initiative with the same requisite alacrity? Hard to say. But also, even if he does not, it seems like at least some momentum for the program has been created. Let us hope that that has some positive effects.

Then there is “Special Clause 87.” This is a clause in the alcohol tax laws that gives a significant tax break (it began as 30 percent but was gradually decreased) to smaller brewers in the industry (read: 90 percent of the brewers!). It was meant to be temporary, to help smaller brewers modernize their equipment and infrastructure. And it has been repeatedly extended but is due to expire at the end of this year.

Now, the Japan Sake and Shochu Makers’ Association is appealing to the government to make that permanent, and to return it to its erstwhile 30 percent. If it is not extended again, some say a third or more of the industry could disappear overnight. While it means about five billion yen (about $62.5M US) less revenue for the government, it also helps local economies to come closer to thriving. It is expected to be at least extended, but one never knows until all is said and done. Let us cross our collective fingers!

As an aside, there are currently just under 1300 sake breweries in Japan. However, less than half are reasonably profitable!

On the somewhat brighter side, exports are doing very well, up 14 percent on the year. However (and there is always a “however”) this accounts for only about two percent of all sake produced. Compare this with about 30% of the wine of France and Italy being exported. If the industry is to return from the brink of continued contraction, then domestic consumption has to improve too!

And so, at the end of the day, what does this snapshot of the industry reveal? In an nutshell, it seems that the winds have indeed begun to shift in a more positive direction for sake. But until those winds blow strongly enough to clear out the fog, it may be a bit too early to break out the sparkling sake.

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Announcing the 10th
Sake Professional Course
to be held in Tokyo Japan, January 21 – 25, 2012 

From Monday, January 21, until Friday January 25, 2013, I will hold the 10th Japan-based Sake  Professional Course in Tokyo, with a side trip to the Kyoto-Osaka-Kobe region. This is it: the most important thing I do all year, and beyond any doubt the best opportunity on the planet to learn about sake.e” No Sake Stone Remains Left Unturned” is the motto, and “exceed expectations in that” is my goal.  If you want to learn all you need to know about sake to function consummately as a sake professional at work, or if you are simply a sake lover with an insatiable appetite for sake-related knowledge, then this is the course for you.  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. Go here for more information. To reserve a spot, send an email to sakeguy@gol.com .

Next year will mark the 60th anniversary of the discovery of perhaps the most important sake-brewing yeast strain of all, the Kumamoto yeast, also known as Yeast Number Nine.

While the yeast itself, its qualities, and its various aliases are worth knowing about, the history and culture surrounding all this is interesting as well. It all took place down south in Kumamoto Prefecture, thanks to the efforts of a man named Professor Kin’ichi Nojiro.

Back in the Edo period, when samurai clans still ruled the various provinces, before the Meiji Restoration in 1868 when power was returned to the Emperor and modern government was installed, there was no sake as we know it in Kumamoto. Instead, the ruling clan had dictated that a red type of sake, known as “akazake,” was the only type of sake to be brewed. It was likely an economical decision, an effort to make Kumamoto the capital of this curious brew. (The color comes from an ash put in the sake to preserve it. It is still available today; it all comes from Kumamoto and is used only in cooking.)

While that worked for a while, it put Kumamoto a bit behind the rest of the country in real sake brewing technology. In order to address this, Kumamoto Prefecture put a lot of research effort into brewing good sake, forming a company that functioned as a brewery and research center. It is still around today, and the wonderful sake brewed there is called Koro. One of the main forces in the research center devoted to that effort was Professor Nojiro.

Among other advances in brewing techniques, he discovered a yeast strain in 1953 that soon propelled Kumamoto sake to the top of the sake-brewing world. Initially, it was known as the Kumamoto Kobo (yeast). Soon, a very similar yeast was isolated, and thereafter the two came to be known as KA-1 and KA-4.

Eventually, an organization called the Nihon Jozo Kyoukai, or Brewing Society of Japan, began to propagate and sell this yeast to brewers around the country. Henceforth, when supplied by this organization, it came to be known as Association Yeast Number Nine.

So, to clarify, for those that are interested, if the label says Yeast #9, it came from The Brewing Society of Japan, who got it a few months before that from the company that makes Koro in Kumamoto. If it says KA-1 or KA-4, you know that brewer has a connection and was able to snag some directly from Koro, without going through any other organization.

It is very difficult to keep yeast strains like this pure over the generations and generations of reproduction required to use them in large quantities year after year. Those doing that work must test carefully to be sure that the qualities of the yeast do not change. The folks at the Kumamoto research center work hard to create consistent KA-1 and KA-4 each year, and the Japan Brewers’ Association gets fresh stuff from Kumamoto each year, ensuring their strains are pure as well.

This family of yeast is very suited to making aromatic yet clean ginjo-shu. And today, more of that kind of fine sake is being produced then ever before. This leads to great demand for the #9 strains. So what some prefectures do (most notably Yamagata, but other places as well) to make it more accessible is to buy some Kumamoto Kobo from the source, then propagate it at home, and distribute it amongst those that want it in that prefecture. This is significant only because amongst Yamagata sake, one can find a yeast called Yamagata KA, which is Yamagata home-grown Kumamoto Kobo.

So at the end of the day, KA-1 and KA-4, Kumamoto Kobo, #9, and Yamagata KA are more or less the same yeast. Consider it “family number nine” or maybe “Kumamoto lineage.” Naturally, there are those who insist the original pure strains from Kumamoto are better. But what is important to remember is that this line of yeasts is the most widely used yeast in ginjo sake brewing, and has stood the test of 50 years’ time without being dethroned, and without significantly mutating. 

So what is so special about it? In brewing, it ferments thoroughly and slowly at low temperatures, allowing brewers to control the fermentation closely. This all leads to wonderfully smooth and fine-grained flavors, good aromatic acid content, and lovely fruity aromas reminiscent of delicious apples and perhaps melon. Clean and bright sake with wonderful balance is the trademark of this line of yeasts. Indeed, there is nothing quite like classic #9 flavors and aromas in a sake.

Indeed, these days especially, there are many other great yeasts. Whether or not they will still be great in 50 years is yet to be seen. And it is certainly possible to enjoy your sake without giving a hoot about the yeast used. But often, the more one tastes, the more one wants to know why certain sake have the aromas and flavors they do, to know what makes a sake the way it is. Should your interest get to that level, remember ole’ Number Nine.

The company that makes Koro is still alive and well, and ownership of it is shared amongst all the other brewers in Kumamoto. The president-ship rotates amongst the presidents of the other Kumamoto brewery owners.

Koro is truly a lovely sake in all of its manifestations. Then name itself means “fragrant

Koro Junmai Ginjo

dew.”  I like to refer to it as the Pilsener Urquell of sake. It really is the quintessential manifestation of ole Number Nine. Melon, a light spritzy acidity, and incredible balance from beginning to end. Just ever so slightly restrained and understated, it is a tad different from the aromas of much modern ginjo sake. It is very limited in its availability in the US. And that is just the junmai ginjo. They make a daiginjo as well that is hard to get anywhere.