WINE
The hottest saké
By Mark Criden
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Illustration by JP Thimot.
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Unlike the mass-produced firewater we’ve all downed in sushi joints, artisanal saké can be a revelation, though not an easy one. Appreciating saké is an exercise in prizing subtlety and nuance. Unlike wine, for instance, which can linger on your palate for many seconds, giving time to appreciate its kaleidoscope of complexities, the best sakés literally vaporize on the tongue and vanish, without a trace, like melting snow.
Here, in simple Q and A format, is Spree’s saké primer:
What is saké?
Despite being brewed, it’s not beer. Despite similar flavors and textures, it’s not wine. And despite being clear, it’s not distilled, so it’s nothing like vodka or gin. Saké is an alcoholic beverage made from four basic ingredients: rice, water, koji, and yeast.
That’s it?
These ingredients can be combined in an almost infinite number of ways. But the quality of each, and the skill with which they’re handled, determine whether you have a high quality drink or nail polish remover. Let’s start with rice.
Rice is rice, right?
Wrong. The most important determinant in quality saké is the excellence of the rice, and the degree to which it’s polished or milled.
Most saké in sushi palaces is made from industrially produced, cheap table rice, but there are dozens of great, special rices that can be used. Equally as important as the variety is the degree to which the rice has been polished or milled. The outer core of the rice grain contains all sorts of junk that can introduce off aromas and tastes, while it’s the starch in the center of the grain that coverts to sugar and alcohol during fermentation. So the more the outside is milled away, the more refined the saké will be.
And the deal with the water?
Because saké is essentially spiked rice water, its quality is greatly affected by the purity of the H2O. The best saké typically comes from small brewers who use pure water from nearby mountain streams or deep wells.
What about yeast?
Like other alcoholic beverages, yeast converts sugar in the rice to alcohol. Up to fifteen different kinds of yeast—each with its own special qualities—can be used in the brewing process and each significantly affects the flavor and fragrance of the saké. Most yeast is mass-produced, but many small companies develop their own.
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That’s where koji comes in. Before fermentation, the rice is sprinkled with a special mold called koji that breaks down its starch into sugar. The best producers make their koji by hand.
Mold? Oh, gag me.
Get over it. You eat Roquefort, don’t you? You use penicillin. Get a grip.
Anyhow, the whole process takes about a month, after which the fermented rice is pressed and the clear liquid—the saké—runs off. It’s usually charcoal filtered and pasteurized, then left to age about six months, rounding out the flavor.Before shipping, it’s mixed with water to bringthe twenty percent alcohol down to fifteen-to-seventeen percent.
Who makes this stuff?
There are about 1,800 saké breweries (kura) in Japan. (In the U.S., there are seven breweries.) Each Kura has a head brewer called a toji, who in turn, claims allegiance to one ryuha, or schoolof brewing, each claiming its own style and aligned with a specific region of Japan.
How do I buy the stuff? Do I need to know what’s a good year?
Think of saké as beer. There is no such thing as vintage saké, and it’s not meant to be aged. If kept cold and dark, it will last six months or so, but won’t improve as many wines will.
I don’t serve it hot?
Only cheap saké is served hot. The good stuff should be enjoyed slightly chilled, like white wine, but not too cold. When saké is over-chilled you won’t taste or smell anything.
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Sako-philes do not use typical wine language to describe saké, nor do they look for the same characteristics wine lovers do. Sure, subtlety, cleanliness, and balance of aromas and flavors are prized. But aficionados are more likely to prize roundness, texture, and overall harmony than any comparison to the barnyard or orchard products that dominate wine discussions.
How can I tell good from bad?
If you don’t have a chance to taste first, buy something labeled Junmai, Junmai ginjo, or Daiginjo. Junmai saké represents considerably less than ten percent of total saké production and has had a minimum of thirty percent of each rice grain milled away. Junmai ginjo goes a step further: at least forty percent of the rice grain is polished away. Daiginjo (super premium saké) has at least fifty percent or more milled away.
These sakés are produced using cooler and slower fermentations, and are pressed more gently, resulting in a more complex, fragrant, refined product. If you remember one piece of information from Spree this month, it should be to stick to Junmai, Junmai ginjo, or Daiginjo when purchasing sakés; if these terms are not used, ask for one of them anyhow.
Can you recommend some sakés?
Sure can. The following sakés are available in bottles ranging from 300ml (smaller than a half-bottle of wine) to 720ml (just smaller than a full bottle of wine). They range in price from about $11 to about $30. My saké list:
• Dewazakura Yamagata “Cherry Bouquet” (Junmai ginjo)
• Fukunishiki Hyogo-Ken (Junmai)
• Kamoizumi KoméKomé “Happy Bride” (Junmai ginjo)
• Kasumi Tsuru Hyogo-Ken Shiboritate Namazake (Junmai)
• Kasumi Tsuru Hyogo Yamahai (Junmai ginjo)
• Masumi Nagano (Junmai ginjo)
• Miyasaka “Masumi” Nagano “Okuden Kantsukuri” (Junmai)
• Otokoyama Hokkaido Tokubetsu (Junmai)
• Shichi Hon Yari Kyoto (Junmai ginjo)
• Wakatake Shizuoka Onikoroshi (Daiginjo)
• Watari Bune Ibaraki Taiheikai Tokubetsu
• Yonetsuru Yamagata (Daiginjo)
• Yuki No Bosha Akita Limited Release (Junmai ginjo)
Mark Criden (mcriden@yahoo.com) is a nonprofit executive and the former chair of the Buffalo branch of the International Wine & Food Society.
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