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By W. Blake Gray

“Spring Snow” is a pretty good nickname for a sake because it sounds not just delicate and natural, but outright freaky when you think about it. Snowing in springtime? You don’t see that often.

Same for its sake namesake — although in this case, blame not Mother Nature, but the US government.

Akitabare “Shunsetsu” (”spring snow”) Nama Honjozo is highly unusual because it combines a class of sake we often see in the U.S. — nama — with one that we don’t, honjozo.

Honjozo sakes are basically the same quality as junmai sakes, because at least 30 percent of the outer part of the rice is polished away. They’re very popular in Japan. But because of US tax law on imported sake, they’re uncommon here.

“Junmai” means “pure rice”: nothing but rice, water and koji mold goes into a junmai sake.
For honjozos, brewer’s alcohol may be added during the process. Usually this is done to create a lighter, less intense, more subdued style. Think about the difference between Italian Pinot Grigio and Alsatian Pinot Gris. The honjozo is more like the Pinot Grigio — crisp, light-bodied, meant for food, at the sacrifice of some aromatic and flavor intensity. Yet there are plenty of mild dishes in Japanese cuisine that a richly flavored sake (or a full-bodied, super-aromatic Pinot Gris) would overpower.

Honjozo sakes are big in Japan partly because of their food friendliness, and partly because their easy quaffability makes it easy to drink quickly enough to get shitfaced. Japanese don’t drink halfway.

However, while honjozo sakes are generally the same price or cheaper than junmais in Japan, in the US they are significantly more expensive. The US government taxes them at a higher rate because alcohol is added, so they drop into the same category as fortified wines like Port.

That, and the fact that junmai has the better connotation in the US of being “pure,” has kept honjozo sakes from making any headway in this market.

This honjozo is an oddity because it’s also “nama,” which means unpasteurized. It doesn’t taste like any other sake I’ve had on these shores. More on that in a moment.

The brewery, based in Akita prefecture in chilly northern Honshu on the Japan Sea side, claims to be bound by tradition. The company’s junmai label proclaims “koshiki junzukuri” — the old way. And the brewery claims to have been using some of the same tools for the past century (In case you’re wondering, the US Air Force didn’t bother flying that far north.)
And yet, Akitabare’s sake lineup is pretty innovative. The daiginjo is bottle-aged for two years, which is almost heresy in an industry focused on freshness. And then there’s this sake, which — because it’s nama — is most definitely “drink now.”

Before that spring snow melts.

Tasting Notes:
The aroma is complex, with notes of cream, mustard powder, orange rind, oyster shell, melon and shrimp. But it doesn’t prepare you for what you’re about to taste. Neither does the mouthfeel, which is a big plus: it’s tight and creamy at the same time, with a taut center and a long taut finish.

What I taste from this is melon, and plenty of it — the characteristic of a nama, but definitely not a characteristic of most honjozos. I also taste notes of cream and oyster shell. It’s a little pungent and never fattens up. That’s a good thing — it’s very food-friendly.

Food Pairing:
I had it with Chinese delivery food — sliced fish sauteed with bok choy, spinach with garlic and vegetable chow mein — and it was excellent.

Overall Score: around 9

How Much?: $20

This wine is available for purchase on the Internet.

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We all understand the power of brands. There was likely a time for most Americans alive to day when we used “Reynolds Wrap” when we meant aluminum foil. Some of us still say Kleenex instead of tissue and Xerox instead of photocopy. When one company pioneers a product that becomes so ubiquitous and common, it’s likely that the name will stick, even when we’re no longer using the original product.

There was a time in Japan’s history when sake was more easily referred to as Oyamazake, for exactly the same reasons. In 1882, the Shogun commanded that a sake brewing operation be established to feed the growing thirst for rice wine at the court, and like most of the time when the Shogun asked for something, he got what he wanted.

At it’s height, the brewing operation that sprang in the town of Oyama occupied almost fifty separate breweries arranged side-by-side on the Shonai plain in northwestern Japan. The amount of sake produced at the height of production is unknown, but it must have been truly staggering.

Today, several sake breweries call he town of Oyama home, but only one brewery can trace its history back to that massive brewing operation begun more than a century ago. Named Ohyama, or “big mountain,” this modest brewery continues to carry on the traditions of sake brewing much as they were established before the turn of the century.

Ohyama makes several sakes, but perhaps one of their best is this very special nigori, or “unfiltered,” sake. Unfiltered in the world of sake means much the same as it does in the world of wine. The process of making sake eventually yields a big soup of mushy fermented rice and alcohol in the same way that the end of fermentation for grapes results in a big tank of grape skins, wine, seeds, etc.

In order to get sake out of the mash, the sake must be pressed off of its lees (the solid bits of rice and yeast that are left). This usually involves putting sake into canvas bags and then squeezing those bags in a pneumatic press so that the sake squirts out and the rice and such is left behind. The resulting sake is a milky, cloudy color as it still contains a lot of rice starch and yeast in suspension.

At this point the sake is usually cold filtered through charcoal or other mediums to clarify the sake, but occasionally, brewers will simply stop here, and this cloudy, sediment filled sake is known as nigori. The rice starch gives the sake a milkier, slightly sweeter flavor which makes nigori a nice aperitif, as well as a good match for stronger flavored foods.

Interestingly, if you were to travel back in time, say, to 1882, when Ohyama was busy making sake for the Shogun, all the sake would have been unfiltered because they hadn’t invented the filters yet. Clear sake is quite a modern phenomenon.

Unfortunately while nigori sake is also an increasingly popular phenomenon, much of it is extremely low in quality. In some sake drinking circles, nigori sake is the equivalent of white zinfandel, an entry level brew that is easy to drink and doesn’t take much to appreciate. As a result most nigori sakes are made from relatively low quality rice, are often fortified with alcohol, and in some cases, are just downright nasty tasting.

Increasingly however, there are some breweries that are making extremely high quality nigori sake, and Ohyama happens to be one of them. This sake is a “tokubetsu” junmai nigori, which means “very special” junmai nigori. The Haenuki rice has been milled to less than 60% of its former mass (enough to qualify for ginjo status), and no additional alcohol has been added in the brewing process. These two facts, coupled with the extra care taken in its production have made for one of the finest, most delicate nigori sakes available on the market today.

Tasting Notes:
This sake looks like watery, fat free milk in the glass, and it smells very pretty, with aromas of rainwater, flowers, and faint hints of bubble gum. In the mouth it is smooth and creamy, with flavors of…well…cream, wet cedar wood, apple, floral notes, and a beautiful stony quality that lasts through a surprisingly long finish. This is one of the most refined, elegant nigori sakes I have ever had.

Food Pairing:
Even though it is refined in quality, this sake has the robustness of the nigori style, which means it is not so easily overwhelmed by stronger flavors (like many delicate sakes are). I’d happily serve this sake with any non-spicy south or east Asian food. It would go beautifully with a mild Vietnamese curry, for instance.

Overall Score: 9/9.5

How Much?: $15

This sake is available for purchase on the Internet.

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One of the fascinating and attractive things about sake breweries are their (usually) much longer and storied histories than the wineries of the western world. While there are a few wineries that have been in existence for a few hundred years, there are many more sake breweries that have been doing their thing for many hundreds, some continuously operated by a single family.

Kamotsuru Shuzo may not be one of the oldest breweries in Japan, as it can only trace its history back to 1623, and really only began production under the Kamotsuru name in 1873, but it is one of the most respected. Kamotsuru Shuzo is responsible for pioneering a wide range of firsts in the sake industry, including being the first brewery to export its sake to the US (in 1896, no less); the co-inventor of the modern rice polishing machine in 1898; and the first to produce a daiginjo sake in Japan, among other things.

The company’s name, like so many in Japanese, benefits from a clever double meaning. Kamo is both a reference to a chain of mountains from which the brewery gets its water, and Kamo(su) is also the verb to make sake. The second half of the company’s name, Tsuru, means “crane,” a noble and very auspicious bird for the Japanese culture.

When it comes to kamosu, Kamotsuru represents an odd dichotomy between technological innovation and strict tradition. In many ways Kamotsuru can be considered one of the most pioneering sake breweries in Japan. They claim many firsts in the world of sake including being one of the first Japanese breweries to export sake to the United States in the year 1896. Don’t ask me who might have been drinking sake in the U.S. at that time. Perhaps more notably, Kamotsuru brewery can claim to be the co-inventor of the modern rice polishing mill in 1898, along with another company. In 1905 were among the first breweries in Japan to produce ginjo class sakes, whose rice had been polished to at least 60% of its former mass, and in 1958 they claim to be the first brewery to produce a daiginjo class sake (made from rice polished to less than 50% of its former mass).

Today, despite such a history of innovation, a visitor to Kamotsuru might be struck by the seemingly traditional approach taken towards sake brewing. Kamotsuru still makes use of wood where many have switched to stainless steel, and continues many of the labor intensive manual processes of sake making that have been automated by other breweries. And, of course, the brewery insists on producing incredibly high quality sake, of which this sake, named “Sokaku” is their second most premium product, and the highest quality sake that they export to the United States.

Sokaku is a junmai daiginjo sake. This means that no additional alcohol is added during the brewing process and that the rice has been polished past the 50% point. As a mark of its premium quality, the rice used to make Sokaku has been polished to 38% of its former mass, a delicate and expensive feat, and one that the brewery feels makes for a more refined and delicate brew. It is made in the dead of winter in Hiroshima prefecture as the snow blows in cold from the sea of Japan.

While it’s easy to buy sake by the label (many of them are quite attractive, and when you don’t have any idea what they’re saying — I don’t — it can be an interesting aesthetic gamble) it’s generally best to know what you’re getting yourself into. However, it is worth noting that this sake rates pretty high up on the aesthetic scale. Anyone who could receive this individually gold boxed, hand tied, handmade-paper-labeled bottle and not be impressed probably isn’t worth having as a friend anyway.

Tasting Notes:
Colorless in the glass, this sake has a nose of white flowers, dried orange rind, tropical fruits, and wet stones. In the mouth it is ever-so-smooth, with clear stony, rainwater and floral qualities wrapped in a slightly creamy, melted vanilla ice cream jacket with hints of wet cedar on the finish. The sake conveys a purity that marks the best daiginjo sakes along with a silky weight on the tongue that entices sipping again and again. World class.

Food Pairing:
This sake seems like it would do beautifully with butter poached fish of any kind, but especially…butter fish! A nice filet, a splash of lemon and a glass of Sokaku could make any evening spectacular.

Overall Score: around 9.5

How Much?: $80

This sake is available for purchase on the Internet.

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In the world of sake, perhaps even more so than the world of wine, just when you think you’ve figured out that things work a certain way, you stumble across an exception that completely destroys whatever sense of predictability you might have been cultivating.

It’s fairly safe to say that most fine sakes should be served chilled, to preserve and highlight their subtleties and delicate qualities. However, there are a specific class of higher end sakes that not only can be served at room temperature, but actually benefit from a little warmth.

These sakes bear no resemblance in style (or price for that matter) to the hot sakes served in most American sushi restaurants. Instead, such sakes represent a relatively unknown segment of the fine sake world known as yamahai sake. Sake continues to gain in popularity every year in America, but the range and variety of sake poured in restaurants and purchased by consumers continues to be somewhat narrowly focused, and most definitely does not tend to include Yamahai sakes like this one, which represent less than 1% of the sakes brewed in the world.

The easiest way to explain yamahai sakes to wine lovers would be to suggest that yamahai sakes are the equivalent of wines fermented with native yeasts. But this analogy doesn’t quite illustrate the full extent to which yamahai sakes differ from more conventionally brewed sakes.

Like in traditional winemaking, sanitary conditions are paramount to the production of high quality sake, but in sake brewing, this is taken to a much greater extreme. Any contamination by outside agents of any kind, be they yeasts, other bacteria, or any other biological elements, can result in a sake that tastes like a burning heap of trash, if you get my meaning. This is the primary reason that sake is traditionally brewed in the dead of winter, when the air and the spring water used for brewing are the most free from living contaminants.

Sake is made from two “fermentations.” The first is the koji mold, which attacks and begins to break down the starches in a small batch of rice kernels mixed with spring water. This small batch of rice, known as the “starter” is later added to a big batch of rice to make the sake. After the koji has had a chance to get started, one of several commercial sake brewing yeasts (sake never really undergoes a full natural yeast fermentation) is added to the starter mash and allowed to grow until this starter is highly concentrated with yeast cells. This is the second fermentation.

So why is Yamahai sake the equivalent of a natural yeast fermentation? Well, for the 99% of the world’s sake that is not yamahai, in between the koji inoculation and the yeast fermentation, the rice mash is treated with a bit of lactic acid to make extra sure that any stray yeasts or other organisms that might be present in the rice are dead. When the commercial yeast is added in traditional sake brewing it is added to a biologically sterile rice mash. Yamahai sake is simply sake that is missing this basic sterilization process. The rice is allowed to ferment with the combination of brewers yeast and whatever natural yeasts and enzymes might be present.

Brewing sake in this fashion is a bit like walking a tightrope without a safety net, or playing Russian roulette. Take your pick of metaphors. There’s a fine line between a sake with character and that burning pile of trash I referenced earlier. The wild yeasts that can and do infect the koji and yeast mixture for the sake starter can add a wide range of flavors and aromas to the final sake. They can also ruin it. For this reason, the brewing of yamahai sake is either a total crapshoot, or a delicate art, depending on your point of view.

Kamoizumi Shuzo, was founded in 1912 in Hiroshima prefecture in Western Japan by Hazime Hitoshi, the first son of a famous rice merchant. For three generations, the family run brewery has been working to perfect its brewing process, including their careful brewing of what is one of the best best yamahai sakes in the world under the name Shusen or “three dots.” It is a testament to the skill of their master brewer Yukio Masuda that they are able to turn out this sake year after year with a consistent flavor profile and personality.

Personality is the reason to drink yamahai sakes like this one, and their particular character traits are no more expressive than when they are served warm. Yamahai sakes tend to be fuller bodied, pungently earthy, and just slightly sweet in character. While not for everyone, especially those who don’t like the smell of mushrooms, these sakes can be fantastic accompaniments to richer foods that would overpower their more floral daiginjo cousins.

Tasting Notes:
Pale blonde in color, this sake smells of shitake mushrooms and wet leaves baking in the sun. In the mouth the sake is smooth and velvety on the tongue with pungent flavors of cooked mushrooms, wet earth, Chinese medicines, and hint of sweet tropical fruit on the finish. This is perhaps a sake for the more adventurous, but those willing to stray from the mainstream may find it richly rewarding. Serve warmed, but not hot, or at room temperature.

Food Pairing:
This sake goes particularly well with meat dishes in my opinion, especially those that have a light sweetness to them, as well as anything that has an earthy element such as potatoes and squash.

Overall Score: between 9 and 9.5

How Much?: $27

This sake is available for purchase on the Internet.

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