tokyo through the drinking glass

Sip Sake at the Source

2009-10-24T16:01:00.006+09:00

The other day, while sipping on a glass of etherial Wataribune Daiginjo at Fuchu Homare Shuzo in Ibaraki prefecture, my good friend Rick remarked, "There's something so special about drinking sake at the place it was made."

I couldn't agree more. A visit to a sake brewery is about more than the sake itself, although that's undoubtedly the biggest incentive for going. If you're lucky enough to go during the brewing season, you'll gain valuable insight into how it's made and see firsthand just how much human labor goes into sake production. Beyond that -- and even more importantly -- you'll get to know the people that bring this good stuff into the world.

Here in Japan, we're lucky to be able to travel to sake breweries with relative ease. I've been to probably a dozen, and even worked at one, but there are hundreds I'd love to check out some day. Physically inhabiting the space where a sake you love comes from is a vastly different experience than reading about it. You get an intimate understanding of the geography of the land and the history of the brewery; you become immersed in the sights, smells, and textures of the place.

I've always thought it was rather a shame that there's no sake tourism industry in Japan. Many breweries are themselves handsome buildings, set in bucolic surroundings, and a trip almost certainly involves sampling some local delicacies.

That's why I was so excited to hear about the new Sake Tours being offered by my good friend Etsuko Nakamura and my sake sensei John Gauntner. Earlier this month, John made this announcement in his October newsletter:

Sake Tourism has begun!

Want to visit sake breweries in Japan? Now you can!

I am pleased to announce the starting of the Sake World Sake Brewery
Tours program. Now, anyone can access the inner workings of the sake
world. Visit Japan, start off with a bit of formal sake education by
yours truly, then you are off to see several sake breweries while
under the care of an experienced sake-savvy interpreter. Events
include sake-centered meals and other cultural sight-seeing options -
and even a bit of free time. This brewing season, there are two tours
planned:

Tour I: February 23 to 27 in the Kansai (Osaka/Kyoto/Kobe) area
Tour II: March 15 to 19 in the San-in (Shimane and Tottori) area

For more information, pricing and reservations please go to
www.saketours.com. Participation is extremely limited this season for
the two tours that are scheduled.

This is a terrific chance for anyone who is interested in taking a hands-on approach to sake education, as well as for foodies looking for a taste of real, regional Japan. So start booking that flight...

And look out for my article featuring Fuchu Homare next week in the Japan Times!

Do Right Woman, Do Wrong Woman

2009-10-14T07:44:00.003+09:00

“You fell asleep chewing,” JP said. The reproach in his voice was evident.

“Arrrrrgghhhhhh!” I screamed into my pillow and kicked my feet. “Ta-monster!”

“You kept asking,” he giggled, “how I was going to develop my menu.”

I curled up like a slug that had been sprinkled with salt and retreated further into my covers.

I’d had, to put it politely, one too many. As the realization dawned on me, I prayed that this wouldn’t turn into one of the seven deadly hangovers.

The problem, as I saw it, was my friends. Tamami (the scorpion), Sugita and Vivi were notorious for their super-human drinking powers. To make matters worse, we were going to Gilio, and Chef-san is no teetotaler. I’d met the crew for lunch at 12:30. Six bottles of wine and a few glasses of grappa later, I somehow managed to stumble home.

“Oh, god,” I slurred, reaching for my water, “I have to pick up trash tomorrow.”

Just my luck to wind up in such a state the day before the Fujisawa Beach Cleanup.

My friend Alana had told me about the event earlier this summer, and it was all for a very good cause. She and her husband Michel are the founders of Soleil Provence, a French language and cultural center on the beach in Kugenuma. Working with the Japan Environmental Action Network, they had decided to host an event inspired by International Coast Day that would raise awareness about marine debris. The volunteers would comb the beach for garbage, which would then be sorted and counted. The purpose of the project is to collect data that will go toward an assessment of coastal debris across the globe. Their first fundraiser in July was a big success, and they plan to do it again every year, twice a year.

I wanted to do good, I really did. But part of me was hoping for a typhoon.

On Sunday morning, the sun was shining, and the skies were blue. Mercifully, I awoke hangover-free and made my way down to Shonan, where I caught up with my environmentally conscious friend the Shroz. The turnout was great -- over 100 people -- and we took to the beach with gloves and plastic bags.

At first glance, the shore seemed relatively clean. There were few salient items, but a closer look revealed tiny bits of plastic, broken glass and hundreds of cigarette butts. JEAN estimates that 25 percent of the coastal debris in Japan is comprised of cigarette filters. One of the main things they’re trying to monitor for, however, is the presence of industrial plastic. These minuscule particles are virtually indistinguishable from grains of sand, but they're highly toxic.

Although we were only out there for 30 minutes, we collected enough trash to cover a small blue tarp. According to JEAN’s calculations, that amounts to roughly 42 kg of trash.

They say that a good deed is its own reward, but Soleil Provence went a step further and set out a fantastic spread of goodies for all of the volunteers -- goats cheese-stuffed pastries, sweet onion tartlets, olives and croissants. To sweeten the deal even more, Vranken Japan generously brought bottles of bubbly, along with some very drinkable Pink Flamingo rose and red.

There’s no better way to spend a sunny afternoon than nibbling away at meat pies filled with lomo and sipping a cool glass of Heidseick-Monopole Rose Champagne. This rose is always delicious -- a playful berry-laden number with citrusy crispness -- and it tasted even better after a morning of civic duty. I'd been bad, it's true, but in the end I did pretty good.

Three Cheers for Sake Day

2009-10-02T10:08:00.007+09:00

I giggled, I snickered and even cringed just a little at first, but yesterday's Sake Walk was a big success and a lot of fun. I'd been running late and, when I arrived at Mizutanibashi Park, I was surprised to find a band of people, right fists raised, carrying bright yellow and red banners emblazoned with the words, "October 1st is Nihonshu no Hi." Everyone wore matching yellow singlets bearing the same phrase. I was confused. The scene was reminiscent of a political -- namely, communist -- demonstration, and I was still not sure if I'd come to the right place when the police escorts started to move the parade along.

"Everyone, form four lines!"

We were officially on our way. A few moments later, someone ran up to me and handed me a bib, which I accidentally put on backwards.

"Your sign is inside-out," the man beside me pointed out.

"Ah, yes," I stammered, "it is. Thank you."

And then the chanting began.

"Jyugatsu tsuitachi ha, nihonshu no hi desu!"

October 1st is Sake Day!

"Nihonshu de, kampai shimashou!"

Let's celebrate with sake!

"Ruuru wo mamotte, nihonshu wo tanoshimimashou!"

Only the Japanese could come up with a slogan as stirring as this: Let's enjoy sake by drinking responsibly and observing the rules! That is so classic.

But seriously, there was a very good turnout and a lot of enthusiasm. The after party and tasting organized by Wajowaraku Sake Academy at the Shinmaru Building was terrific. After greetings from legendary sake book author Jiro Shinoda, all the participants toasted with brews from Kamoshibito Kuheiji, Hitakami, and Nambu Bijin. The tasting was small and featured top producers like Jyuyondai, Gorin and Denshu. There were also snacks of horse sashimi and namerou (a spicy dish of horse meat minced with miso and herbs), addictively delicious cucumber pickles and other fresh veggies. All for free.

From now until October 12th, the restaurants on the seventh floor of the Shinmaru Building will doing a special sake "happy hour" promotion in the evenings from 6:00. It's a terrific deal - a flight of three sakes for Y500.

If you want to get more serious about tasting, this is the month to do it. There are events going on nearly every day. Here are a couple to whet your palate.

Pop into the National Azabu Supermarket this weekend for a little free tasting at the Nara and Jizake Fair.

For only Y500, you can taste a ton of sake at the Saitama Sake Tasting on the 6th. Just watch out for the drunken older men.

One of my favorites every year is the Shimane Sake Tasting on the 12th.

On the 13th, there's a small fall tasting from 12:00-4:00 at the KKR Hotel in Takebashi (11F). Not really sure what it's about, but at Y500, I can risk checking it out.

There are many, many more. Head on over to Tokyofoodcast for listings and don't forget - ruuru wo mamotte, nihonshu wo tanoshimimashou!

Two Rooms Keeps It Stylishly Simple

2009-09-27T12:04:00.008+09:00

“If you had a restaurant, what would you name it?” JP asked, giving his wine a swift, professional-looking swirl.

“That’s a tough question.” I shook the clams in my pan and sprinkled them with salt before turning around to face him.

“Not for any particular reason, but I think Olga and Peter is a pretty good name.”

“You’d name your high-end restaurant after your parents?”

“Lots of high-end places are people’s names.” He clutched his glass defensively and curled his torso in on itself like a rolly polly.

“Yes, but usually just one name, like only Olga or only Peter. Anyway, there’s already a Peter,” I turned back to my clams.

“Okay, what’s your idea, then?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I kind of like Koi,” I replied, chewing thoughtfully on a strand of linguine. “It sounds crisp.”

“Hmm, people might expect Japanese food.”

“True. But it also sounds vaguely African, no?”

“I think simple is best. Salt. Beige. Two Rooms.” He stood up to pour another glass of wine, signaling an end to our conversation with dad-like decisiveness.

When I first heard of Two Rooms, I was skeptical. The name sounded uninspired, even a bit silly. It indicated the layout but little else, and I feared that the restaurant would be blandly trendy.

The designers certainly deserve props. The space is fabulously open, with wrap-around views of the city. The smart interior, done in black, white and dark wood, gives off the kind of contemporary, cosmopolitan vibe you might expect at one of Tokyo’s many design-conscious hotels. That’s not surprising, considering that the management team comes from the New York Grill and the Oak Door.

Adjacent to the main dining area is the bar, which houses an impressive 1800-bottle wine collection. But the ornament on the hood of this architectural Cadillac is the cocktail terrace, a wooden deck that extends artfully over a mirror-flat pond of water. It’s stylishly outfitted with boxy, boat-sized rattan sofas and matching tables - patio luxe for the 21st century jet set. If ever there was a proper context for passion fruit mojitos, this is it.

The food’s not shabby, either. The chef makes clever use of fresh domestic meat, fish and produce. The market lunch sets are a good value, and JP and I were both torn between the fish and the pork. Being married becomes a great advantage when confronted with two delicious-sounding options. Naturally, we went with one of each -- plus a couple of oysters on the half-shell.

JP’s appetizer of poached Sanriku scallops, topped with a salsa of Hokkaido corn and shallots over hummus was eye-openingly tasty. I would never have thought of putting those things together, but the smokiness of the hummus highlighted the natural sweetness of the corn and scallops nicely.

Although I’d been looking forward to the soft-boiled Datte eggs with truffle salt and Inca potatoes, the dish lacked overall impact. The potatoes, also boiled, provided the composition with little textural variation. Everything had a similar mushy consistency. I would like to have seen the potatoes made into crunchy latkes for some contrast.

My main dish of suzuki sea bass, served with creamy Meridith goat cheese, tomato puree, thinly shaved strips of fennel and black olive pesto; was artfully presented. The inventive combination of goat cheese, tomato and fennel harmonized well with the delicate fish. The olive pesto, however, was entirely unnecessary. It dominated the flavors, casting an aggressive piquancy over the entire dish. It also obliterated our wine, a steely and poised Tenuta Mount Nelson Marlborough ’07 Sauvignon Blanc.

JP had no complaints about his char-grilled Yamayuri pork with yuzu-kosho sour cream, which came with a juicy sliced zucchini and generous slabs of bacon. Generally speaking, I’m kind of opposed to the idea of bacon and pork on the same plate (unless we’re talking sausage), but this worked. The dish was simultaneously decadent and simple. I enjoyed it enough to steal the idea for our aborted dinner party.

The service was competent and professional, if a tad slow. Although the dining room was only half full, we waited for several minutes before receiving our menus, and my wine glass stood empty a few times (a big no-no). Our oyster starters took their time leaving the kitchen, but the pace picked up mid-meal.

Did I like it? Yes. Did I love it? No. Would I come back? You bet. The terrace beckons, and, while I’ve never been much of a raspberry martini girl, I’d be willing to give it a try.

Sake Walk with Me

2009-09-21T10:32:00.004+09:00

If you're old enough to catch that reference to Twin Peaks, you're definitely old enough to drink, and that makes you eligible to sign up for the upcoming Sake Walk in Ginza! October 1st is Nihonshu no Hi, and, to celebrate, sake fans in Tokyo will be taking to the streets. Etsuko of Tokyofoodcast is organizing a sake meetup around the event.

Now, I've walked 10k to raise money for AIDS research, 12k to support breast cancer awareness, and for sake, I'm willing to go the distance: a whopping 2 kilometers! Come on, you have to love this. Hardly a walk-a-thon but that's just how we sake fans roll - or more precisely - stumble. Even if you don't feel like doing the walk, you can still come out for the free (yes, free!) sake tasting at the Marunouchi House afterward. See details below and contact Etsuko to join the party.

Announcing a new Meetup for The Tokyo Sake Meetup Group!

Sake-no-hi or October 1 is just around the corner. It's the day to appreciate nihonshu. So, hope everyone have a glass or two.

There's a organized walk through the heart of Ginza to raise the awareness and promote the special day. If you can spear a few hours in the afternoon, please join the group for the walk.

I will be at the walk on that day and plan to stop by at Marunouchi for another event. If you can join the walk, please contact me by 9/24. The organizer has get a permit for the event from police.

Event: Nihonshu-no-hi Walk in Ginza
Date: October 1, 2009 Thursday
Time: 1:30 pm registration
2:00 pm -3:00 pm event starts in Ginza
Route: The group will walk about 2 km from Ginza to Hibiya Park
Organized by: Wajowaraku, association of sake brewers and shops, with sake enthusiasts in Tokyo
RSVP by: 9/24 to Et-chan

If you are in the Marunouchi/Ginza area on sake-no-hi, please stop by at the sake promotional event at Marunouchi House on the 7th floor of Shinmarunouchi Bldg.
Event: Sake Park
Time: 4 pm - 10 pm
Location: Marunouchi House (www.marunouchi-house.com) at Shinmarunouchi Bldg.
What: Enjoy sake by participating in the tasting quiz, trying different temperature and paring with food.
Fee: Free

Guess Who's Not Coming to Dinner

2009-09-13T11:53:00.003+09:00

I can say with some confidence that I’m a good hostess. 12-person dinners were a common occurrence at every place I lived in San Francisco, and it still surprises me that so many people came to the sushi parties I threw in that dump on Divisadero. The bathroom alone should have been enough to scare them off, and even I wouldn’t have trusted myself to prepare raw fish in that kitchen. Luckily, no stomachs were harmed.

Once, when I’d announced that I’d be making a vat of red beans and rice, 20 people showed up. Being Chinese-American, I’m usually hyper-cautious when it comes to making sure that people have enough to eat, but this had caught me unawares. Even after scraping the bottom of the pot, I didn’t have enough for the last guest. I had no choice but to offer him my half-eaten plate of beans, which, unbelievably, he accepted. That was the first and only time a person has literally taken the food from my mouth, but I took it in stride and did what any self-respecting hostess would do: I just poured myself another glass of wine, raided the fridge and started making smoked salmon and cheese crostini.

Hosting dinner parties has always come naturally for me, but it’s not easy for everyone. I have attended parties where I’ve been asked, upon arrival, to prepare whole dishes. I have watched a male host offer my husband a beer but leave my glass empty. I have waited three hours for food, without being given a single thing to nibble on or a drink to nurse. I have strained to make conversation in a cold and silent room. I have been poisoned.

To throw a successful party, you don’t have to be a great cook or have fancy digs. What you do need, however, is preparation.

We’d planned to have dinner with Oskari and Saya on Saturday, and because coordinating the schedules of four busy people in Tokyo can be a trick, we’d set this date back in August. I was smack in the middle of two hectic weeks so wanted to do as much ahead of time as possible. By Friday night, we’d bought all the food, made the soupe au pistou, blitzed the anchovy dressing, and had pork shoulder marinating in brine. Saturday morning was spent giving our apartment a much-needed cleaning, before I ran out to pick up a bottle of Les Hauts de Poupille Rose. Beers were chilling in the fridge, vegetables were on the grill, and I was whipping together a dip of avocado, blue cheese and fromage frais, when JP called out from the other room.

“I think you’re getting a text,” he said.

I glanced at my cell phone. “It’s the Finn,” I chuckled. “No!”

“What?”

“Oskari’s got the flu and can’t make it!”

“You’re kidding me. It’s like 3:00.” We stared at each other in disbelief. I looked at all the food on the table and shook my head.

“Well,” I shrugged, “I know him and he’s not a flake. He was probably just being optimistic this morning.”

“True, it’s better for him to stay home, especially if he has swine flu,” JP nodded.

“Nobody said anything about swine flu. Why would you curse him like that?”

“Well, we made all this food…” JP started. “But you’re right, we’d be furious if he made us sick.”

“Plus, we really needed to clean the house.”

“Now we can have a quiet dinner alone. And be lazy. Wanna beer?”

“Why not?” I smiled. This was not such a bad thing after all.

We spent the rest of the afternoon drinking and watching episodes of Hell’s Kitchen (my secret vice) in our pajamas. Dinner was laughably large. After a bowl of vegetable soup with home made pesto, we moved on to a salad of grilled mushrooms, peppers, eggplant and zucchini tossed with a bright anchovy-lemon dressing and feta. Both of these dishes fared very well with the Rose; it was forthrightly cheerful with fresh strawberry and raspberry flavors, pomegranate acidity and a touch of sweetness.

We were both nearing fullness, but we couldn’t neglect our roast pork with spicy yuzu-kosho sour cream (an idea I’d filched from Two Rooms) and green beans with crispy pancetta. Again, the wine was a star, and the sweetness offset the bite of the yuzu-kosho nicely.

JP raised his glass, “To Oskari’s health.”

“May he recover soon,” I added.

“And to a tasty dinner at home alone.”

Sorry, no pix this time - guess you'll all just have to come over for dinner sometime.

Off to See a Guy about Some Sake

2009-09-08T21:43:00.005+09:00

Robert-Gilles will probably kill me, but I missed the big Shizuoka sake tasting on Sunday. Very bummed about that but I was otherwise engaged (and sadly a bit hungover but that is another story).

But for anyone who can make it, the Yamada Nishiki Summit (yes, that's right) is going down tomorrow.

Lots of stuff is coming up in October, including (forgive my laziness) the Kanto Jizake Tasting:

第十回関東地区龍力を楽しむ会

日時　　１０月７日(水)　１７時～
会場　　グランドアーク半蔵門　　
会費　　１２０００円
問　合　　㈱本田商店内　龍力を楽しむ会
担当　久原・岡本
079-273-0151

A big SSI event on 10/8 at the Hotel Metropolitan Edmont for Y5500 per person.

And one of my favorite tastings of the year, the fall ginjoshu event.

If you can't make it to any of these, don't fret none. There are plenty of places to get the goods. And at some of them you can even sip before you buy.

This, incidentally, is a special shout-out to the sake friends in town this month who have asked me for shop info. Enjoy and have a great trip!

Where's that chokko?

Hasegawa Sakaten

This stylish sake enclave in Omotesando Hills features a small standing bar where patrons can taste brews on the weekly changing menu starting at Y300 per 50ml glass. Their friendly and knowledgeable staff will help you pick the perfect bottle, and some staff members can assist you in English. The newest location, in the basement of Tokyo Station’s Gransta shopping area, is a great place to wait for that next shinkansen bullet train – they even have bar stools.

Jingumae 4-12-14, Omotesando Hills 3F
5785-0833

Fukumitsuya

The interior of Fukumitsuya more closely resembles a gallery than a sake store, but the shop represents a brewery in Kanazawa that dates back to 1625. Everything, from the sake bottles to the delicate glassware, is attractively displayed and tastefully backlit. A bar runs along the left side of the shop, where you can order sizable pours from Y600 off the English menu.

Ginza 5-5-8
3569-2291

Meishu Center

At the other end of chic in Hamamatsucho, the tasting bar here provides a terrific chance for sake buffs to nerd out. What the Meishi Center lacks in style, it more than makes up for in the quality and breadth of sake available. They will even set up a blind tasting for you. No English spoken.

Hamamatsucho 2-3
5405-4441

Suzuki Mikawa Sake

This little shop in Akasaka features a nice selection of sake from several producers representing the new generation of young brewers. Most of the bottles are available for informal tasting – the staff will give you a small plastic cup and leave you to it. English service is limited.

Shinkawaya

A hidden gem in Gaienmae, this place has everything you would want in a local shop – great sake, good prices, and helpful, laid-back service. They hold tasting events every season, so check with the staff for details.

Jingumae 2-4-1
3401-4462

Cool Neighborhood Joints

Sakaya Kurihara

Feast your eyes on the excellent selection at this small shop in Hiroo. You’ll even be able to read the shelf-talkers – most include brief explanations in English.

Moto-Azabu 3-6-7
3408-5378

Mitsuya

The folks at Mitsuya have crammed their tiny shop full of great sake from all over the country. Once a month, you can join their benkyoukai tasting events, which feature a different brewery each time (in Japanese only). Ask the staff for more information.

Nishi-Ogikubo Minami 2-28-15
3334-7447

Aji no Machidaya

This cool and quirky shop boasts and impressive collection of one-cup sakes, in addition to the amazing variety available in 720ml and 1.8L bottles.

Kamitakada 1-49-12
3389-4551

Iseyuu

An incongruously hip shop in down-to-earth Saginomiya, Iseyuu features a small but well-chosen selection with some interesting and hard-to-find brews.

Saginomiya 3-35-3
3330-0434

August Means One Thing

2009-08-27T14:26:00.005+09:00

Praise the lord, Tokyoites have had a reprieve. The last few days have been nothing short of miraculous, and we’ve been relishing the warm afternoons and deliciously cool nights. Before this, the weather had been typical of August in Japan: utterly miserable. In the face of merciless sun and cruel, cruel humidity, I want nothing more than to wilt under our inefficient air conditioner, but the Japanese have a different slant on what I think of as the meanest month of the year. Just as the temperatures climb to 40 and the humidity reaches 90%, the J’s take to the outdoors with their charcoal grills.

Don’t get me wrong. I love a good barbeque, I really do. And Japanese barbeques are a lot of fun, once you get over the feeling that you might faint. First, you start with a sinful amount of meat – beef, pork, sausages, and possibly some innards. Then, you throw in a little something from the sea, commonly squid plus some shellfish. By this point, you’ve stuffed yourself silly and are approaching remorse, but the barbeque isn’t over until you’ve had yakisoba. All Japanese barbeques, without exception, end this way. Naturally, you compare your party’s yakisoba to that of those around you. Some people go to great lengths to turn out fancy versions with homemade sauce and an array of colorful ingredients, while others are just amateurs working from frozen packages.

However, the single defining characteristic of a Japanese barbeque is the unbearable heat. On an appropriately hot day a couple of weeks ago, we joined our friends Eguchi-san and Ai-Young for a day trip to Akigawa and Hossawa Falls, about and hour and a half outside of central Tokyo. We took our place among the revelers crowded along the rocky riverbed and fired up the grill. Eguchi-san had brought the salt and pepper, and with these simple seasonings, we cooked up some surprisingly tasty treats – pork liver, chicken kidneys, slices of beef, pork belly and squid – and finished on a high note.

“Our yakisoba looks way better than theirs.” JP pointed to a group of young, red-faced guys beside us.

“They have no idea what they’re doing.” I shook my head. “Ours is awesome.”

Eguchi watched as the boys dumped a pile of limp noodles over humorously large chunks of meat. “Sad,” he said, turning back to the griddle.

We’d brought wine, but our grilled goodies would have been better with some sake, in particular solidly flavored brews like Wakatake Onikoroshi Junmai Ginjo and Sawanoi Kioke. The folks as Sake Social had sent me these to sample, but alas I drank them before the barbeque. The Onikoroshi has wonderful depth and umami richness coupled with acidity that gives it impressive flexibility. It can dance with what Beau Timkin calls the United Nations of flavors and feelings that accompanies outdoor summer dining. This Junmai Ginjo has an incredible balance that can stand up to the entire flavor spectrum that comes out of the picnic basket. The Sawanoi Kioke is a smoky taruzake with serious complexity that pairs well with deep, rich flavors but also drinks great on its own. This is what I’ll reach for the next time I have yakisoba.

After our riverside feast, we were sunburned and sticky with sweat, but the walk up to Hossawa Falls revived us. The path was lush with greenery, the air on the mountain soft and cool. It was just what we needed…a spot of respite before the next barbeque.

When Dealing with a Whole Watermelon

2009-08-19T10:46:00.003+09:00

I’d never thought of a watermelon as a formidable foe before but, as they say, there’s a first time for everything. The truth is that I’d never had to cut one up myself. Even though I grew up eating watermelon in Louisiana, the dirty work had always been done by someone else: namely my mother. Later that job fell to an anonymous entity at my local supermarket, while I spent the summers munching merrily on fat, pink slices that came wrapped in cling film. It’s funny how, once you become an adult, you realize all the simple things you never learned to do, like deboning a chicken or hemming pants.

After a lovely barbeque at the Oinumas’ peaceful countryside home in Kanagawa, they sent us home with a bushel of eggplants, a bag of tomatoes, handfuls of okra, and a surprisingly heavy watermelon – all grown on the fields surrounding their handsome Showa-era estate. Back at my apartment in Tokyo, I contemplated the fruit’s smooth, striped surface as it sat on the kitchen counter. The melon was perfectly round, with a stem curling out of the top like a wayward tuft of hair, and bore a striking resemblance to Oinuma-sensei himself. It looked so vulnerable, and the weight of the cleaver disconcerted me slightly.

Wincing, I plunged the knife into the center, and the melon split open. It happened suddenly, and I hadn’t anticipated the force with which the two halves would break apart. One side rolled off of the counter and landed on the floor with a juicy splat. I shrieked and Misha looked at me accusingly.

“Murderer,” he whispered.

“Misha, please,” I retorted. “It wasn’t my fault.”

He continued following me with his eyes.

I salvaged what I could and scooped the shattered melon flesh into the trash. My attention then turned to the next challenge: the seeds. When celebrity chefs use watermelon in recipes, they always seem to have immaculate, seedless varieties on hand. In nature, however, these don’t really exist. After what seemed like an extraordinarily long time, I managed to remove most of the hard bits, but I began to suspect that organic watermelons actually contained a higher ratio of seed to flesh.

By the time JP returned, I was still picking away at the little black flecks.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“I had an accident.”

“What happened?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I dropped half of the watermelon,” I confessed.

“My clean floor!” he wailed, cupping his face with both hands like the boy from Home Alone.

I sighed and continued picking.

Half an hour later, the salad was ready. The combination of sweet watermelon, salty feta cheese, piquant red onion, and lime juice felt supremely refreshing at the end of another miserably hot day. The arugula added a kick of zesty bitterness. This simple salad is a fine match for a light sake like Yuki no Bosha Junmai Ginjo, an easy-drinking brew that offers generous fruit and bright flavors overlaying a structure of firm acidity. Sake Social was kind enough to send me a bottle, along with pairing suggestions by sake samurai Beau Timkin. Beau recommends the Yuki no Bosha with fresh fruit, salads, cheeses and gentle cold pastas. I’ve always found his advice to be spot-on, and this was no exception.

In theory, this meal requires about ten minutes of preparation time. I reckon it took me over an hour, given that I had to clean the mess off the floor. Still, it was well worth the effort and I’ve learned a thing or two – when dealing with a whole watermelon, act swiftly and give it a wide berth.

The Organic Sake Challenge

2009-08-06T16:33:00.004+09:00

Well, my friends, it’s been a while but I’m back. Although I’ve taken a little break from blogging, I’ve been managing to keep myself busy by commenting obsessively on my friend Karin’s awesome site Smythologies. I’ve always said that Karin was my smartest friend, and if you check out her blog, you’ll understand why.

A recent piece I wrote for the Japan Times about sake made with organic rice has engendered a fair amount of discussion. Several people have sent emails asking about the flavor of these kinder, gentler, more environmentally friendly brews and whether or not you can taste the difference. On this point, the experts are divided. My sake sensei, John Gauntner, says no, and some producers of organic sake, such as Takasawa-san of Kikusui, concur. Aoshima-san at Kikuyoi and Niida-san at Kinpou, however, both insist that organic rice yields sake that is more complex, with greater depth and strength of character. While I’m reluctant to generalize, I have to say that – in the case of sake made by these two producers, at least – I have to agree.

As part of my research, I traveled down to Shizuoka to interview Aoshima-san and was treated to a horizontal tasting. I sampled this year’s organic Kikuyoi Matsushita-mai Junmai Ginjo and Junmai Daigingo alongside their non-organic counterparts. It’s significant to note that these sakes were the same in every respect – the same Yamada Nishiki rice strain, milled to the same percentage – apart from the fact that the Matushita line was organic. It was truly surprising. In all honesty, I hadn’t expected to notice a difference, but there it was – a subtly modulated grace coupled with attractive sturdiness. Take a look at my notes:

Matsushita-mai Junmai Daiginjo – Heady tropical fruits on the nose, touch of pineapple, echoed on the palate. Very dry throughout with a clean finish. Exhibits a kind of determination.

Kikuyoi Junmai Daiginjo – Quieter nose, sharper focus. Sophisticated but stronger sense of alcohol.

Matsushita-mai Ginjo – Very fruity, almost candy-like nose, green flavors on the palate, followed by bitter notes. Full body, with tight acidity running through the center. Dry finish.

Kikuyoi Junmai Ginjo – Light and fruity, sweet-ish impact but dry overall, with a soft, mild bitterness at the finish. Quite smooth.

Aoshima-san compares the difference between organic and non-organic sake to that of a kid raised in the country versus a child from the city. The country boy grows up to be strong and healthy, if lacking at times in manners; on the other hand, the city-slicker, though sophisticated and refined, ends up being a little weak. Though the organic sakes take a bit of extra time to settle down, they tend to keep better and last longer.

I have to emphasize that this is the only time I’ve done a side-by-side comparison, so I can’t say that the same holds true for all sake. I’m not sure if there is a non-organic version of the Tamagawa Kouno Tori Kimoto, but the organic one is pretty provocative stuff. It’s full on and hits - as opposed to falls on, or flows over - your tongue with bone-dry, masculine force. All of the Odayaka, Shizenshu, and Tamura sake I’ve tried from Kinpou has been organic, so I have no way of knowing if they’re better or worse than their non-organic stuff. What I do know is that their Odayaka Tokubetsu Junmai-shu is one of my all-time favorites. Super-mellow and finely textured, with a gentle sweetness coloring a dry, ricey background, it’s a brew you can find me drinking all year round (as long as I can find it – my local often sells out). In fact, both JP and I like Odayaka so much that we went to Fukushima a couple of years ago to make sake at Kinpou with Etsuko and Ted.

While I doubt that I’ll necessarily go out of my way to buy organic, munouyaku, or shizen sake, I suspect that I won’t really have to: more of these products seems to be popping up every year. Funnily enough, I’m also discovering that some of the sakes I like already fit the bill. Who knew that Hououbiden Wakamizu Junmai Ginjo Muroka Nama was organic? Life’s just full of little surprises.

Love's Labors Found

2009-07-14T16:59:00.005+09:00

When I was a child, I delighted in writing poetry. As a matter of fact, I was fairly prolific between the ages of 12 and 17. My poems were short, unrhymed, and – as is generally the case with adolescent poetry – sometimes embarrassingly emotive. I took my cues from Cummings, Pound and Williams, with a bit of Morrisey thrown in for maudlin measure. They were my first lessons in complex language, a way to get my teeth around words and explore their evocative contours. Poetry is a form of inner dialogue made public that allows you to compress time and inhabit wicked thoughts.

I shared these little compositions with everyone – friends, teachers, pen pals; I entered competitions and published in school journals. I was careful, however, to keep them from my parents, who labored to unearth autobiographical subtext in each line.

“What does this mean?” they'd ask, clearly worried.

“Nothing, it’s just an image.”

“Why were you standing so close to a fire? I don't want you going to any parties where there are fires.”

“I’m not standing by any fire. The character is standing by the fire.”

“Where was this party? Was Devi there, too? Does Mrs. Dutta know about this?”

Silent consternation.

I was too young to understand postmodernist theory so couldn’t counter with the death of the author and “I” as a construct. Even if I had, it probably wouldn’t have stopped them from saying things like, “Why can’t you write something happy?” to which I would respond with my usual roll of the eyes.

When you are 15, there are many, many things you do not wish to discuss with your parents. Your personal writing is definitely in the top 5.

My fledgling career as a poet ended long ago, some time between college and adulthood, but a story about modern love poems on NPR inspired me to give it another go.

A Sensible Conclusion

I’m just pragmatic about these things
And I am
But I’d be lying if I said
I didn’t miss you
Sometimes
These things don’t work out
You know
It’s not you
Really, it’s me
This is stupid
Let’s be friends again and laugh
Just like old times
For old times’ sake
Let’s raise our glasses
I’m so glad for you
I’m so glad for me
But I’d be lying if I said
It was easy
Being with you
Was cautious madness
Heady confusion
Like loss
Or maybe something like love
I’ll have another Jameson on the rocks
Make that a double
But still
We must be pragmatic about these things
And we are.

I was pleased with the result, although it did confirm that penning cheerful verses is not one of my great talents. Love is a fickle, messy topic, and that’s probably why I write about wine and sake instead. They fill your glass with goodness and don’t leave you feeling sad when they’re gone. The relationships are far less equivocal.

This thought occurred to me as I sipped on one of my new favorite summer whites, Sattlerhof Steirische Klassik ’07 Sauvignon Blanc from Austria.

While I hesitate to use the word “love,” I have discovered a fondness for Austrian wines recently. Sorry, Claire. These light and easy-drinking gems are helping me survive this painfully hot summer. The Sattlerhof was pert and refreshing, brimming with aromas of grapefruit, passion fruit, and verbena. Striking a fine balance between the (at times) aggressively fruity pep of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and the austerity of white Bordeaux, it had bracing acidity that softened toward the finish and a lovely resonance.

We drank this with a dish of tender squid, green beans, and broccoli sautéed with garlic, parsley, and a splash of white wine. As I’d expected, the pairing was fantastic, harmonious and uncomplicated, the way that love should be but usually isn’t.

Uncovering Sake's Hidden Stories

2009-07-07T17:56:00.004+09:00

I like secrets as much as, if not slightly more than, the next guy, so it didn’t take much convincing to get me to read John Gauntner’s new e-book, Sake’s Hidden Stories. Although it wasn’t the juicy, tell-all memoir I hope he’ll pen one day, this collection of essays offers a glimpse of a world that is closed to most of us, particularly non-speakers of Japanese. It tells stories of strong wills, iconoclasts, and errant sons who return home to carry on the work of generations. In our fast-paced modern society, where individualism reigns supreme, the words honor, duty, and tradition seem like anachronistic concepts; yet, these are the very forces that have kept the sake industry alive.

Part of what attracted me, and my fellow nihon-shu bloggers Tim, Etsuko, and Robert-Gilles; to sake was the spirit and enthusiasm of the folks who make it. However, much of the sake literature out there – at least in English – focuses mainly on the products themselves. It’s refreshing to finally find a book that introduces the people behind the brand. A sake insider for more than a decade, Mr. Gauntner is the perfect man for the job. He takes us with him up the gravelly roads and through the cool, dark rooms of centuries-old buildings. Some of the anecdotes describe his first meetings with the brewery owners and staff, and readers feel his surprise and, in many cases, awe.

After meeting the former president of Tairin Brewery in Gifu, Gauntner asks how he was able to control the milling of the rice, which was done at that time on a primitive machine.

The older gentleman answered very simply and humbly, "Well, I listen to it." You listen to it? Huh?

He walked over to one end of the small machine and lifted up – of all things – a stethoscope that hung neatly over a pipe. "Well, Yeah. I use this, and I listen to it. I have been doing this in this way for so many years that I can easily tell by the sound of the rice spinning inside how much has been milled away."

Amazing. Most modern seimaiki are automated so the operator has to do nothing, just put in the rice, set the controls, and wait. But for decades this gentleman has been listening to the sound of the rice as it rolled around inside the cylindrical drum, and by using only his senses, polished with years of experience, he can be so accurate that they could make the fine sake Tairin is known for. By using a stethoscope. Simply wild.

The book contains a fair amount of technical information, and, although the first section is devoted to sake basics, true novices may find it difficult to take everything in. The author was a former engineer and his fascination with machinery is evident. For those with a firm foundation of sake knowledge, however, the book is a terrific resource providing in-depth details of production.

Still, everyone can relate to he characters themselves (and, in the sake world, there are plenty of them). When he meets the purple-track-suit-wearing Nakao-san, president and toji of Tsuyu Masamune in Osaka, Gauntner wonders how he learned to make sake.

"Ah, but that's another long story," he begins, raising his teacup as if toasting the idea for emphasis. He sets it down on the low table between us before continuing. "You see, I never wanted to be in this business. Originally I was not going to take over the brewery here. I wanted to be a phys ed instructor."

That’s not the only surprise the kuramoto has in store for him.

In another departure from precedent, Nakao-san has begun to hold the occasional rap concert inside his brewery for the local community rap fans. "It's kind of tight, but we have barely enough space. The band is down there, people dance up there, on that platform, just in front of the tanks. It's kinda cool, actually.

These kinds of delightful details make Sake’s Hidden Stories a lot of fun to read, and you’ll definitely feel like an insider by the end of the book. In fact, you may end up itching to take to the sake road yourself. I certainly did!

Back on that Horse

2009-07-05T07:59:00.005+09:00

Well, friends, I gave it a shot but didn't manage to land the Murphy Goode dream job. Drat. Can't win 'em all. But thanks thanks thanks to everyone out there who showed their support! My video got hundreds of votes, and I really felt the love.

Sorry I've been so quiet recently. Between the mad scramble to get my application in to Murphy Goode and some new projects at work, I just haven't been able to keep up. I even forgot to celebrate my blog's 3rd birthday. Can you believe it? How times flies. We made a belated toast with a glass of Ducastaing Armagnac given to us by our favorite Italian chef for JP's birthday. Please note the diverting bottle.

I should mention that, once you get over the hilarity of pouring a drink from a condom-shaped baby bottle (talk about Freudian overtones), the Armagnac is quite good. Very grapey and rich.

Ain't none of us gettin' any younger, but at least we can make an ironic return to childhood.

Cheers and check back soon for more adventures in sake and wine!

Wish Me Goode Luck

2009-06-20T22:52:00.003+09:00

Hello.

This is not an impersonal, shameless plea for attention or anything like that. Certainly, you know that I would never stoop to abject begging. But if you happen to have 60 spare seconds and an ounce of love in your heart, you'll watch my video application for A Really Goode Job and vote for me! Please!

Thanks so much to all the folks who've sent well wishes and good vibes via email. Your support is much appreciated!

For Murphy Goode-ness Sake

2009-06-18T12:08:00.005+09:00

I’ve been harboring a secret ambition. Crazy as it seems, I’ve decided to apply for the Murphy-Goode dream job. Yes, there are thousands of applicants. No, I do not possess magical brainwashing powers. Be that as it may, I feel particularly qualified for this position, and I’m just going to go for it.

It all started a few weeks ago when my good friend Devi sent me an email about the campaign. I didn’t take it seriously, but she urged me to apply. The more I talked to people about it, the more it seemed like a possibility. The only catch was the one-minute video prerequisite. I had no ideas, and standing in front of the camera listing my job experience seemed irrepressibly dull. What could I do to demonstrate my credentials and allow my personality to come through at the same time?

“I think you should show yourself making sake. That would make you stand out.”

“Um, how about images surrounding sake? Sakadama, o-choko, stuff like that. I mean, everyone will be drinking wine in theirs.”

“You could interview yourself, ask yourself the questions you think they’d want to know. You could even dress us in different outfits!”

------------------------
“They told you to do what?” JP asked.

“Oh, you know, it’d be like Formidable Opponent, and one of me would be wearing glasses or something like that.” I grimaced. That approach might work for Stephen Colbert, but it’s not my style.

JP made two circles with his fingers and placed them over his eyes, like a child pretending to be Batman. He turned toward me and did his best impersonation of Tim Russert. “So, Melinda, tell me why we should give you this job.”

I did the same thing with my hands and answered in a high, warbly voice, “I…like…wine. Now give me the money.”

“Only one of us is supposed to wear the glasses!” JP said, hands still covering his eyes.

“Oh right,” I giggled. It was too funny.
------------------------

At that point, I was close to giving up. Then, I got another email from Devi with an idea, the crux of which hinged on me drinking wine in a public restroom.

“It’s okay because it’s wine! Not hooch or Mad Dog!” she enthused.

The idea was hilarious, although a tad unseemly for this situation. There had to be another way to be another way of conveying my sense of humor that didn’t involve a toilet.

That afternoon, I had a flash of inspiration, but I still needed help. So I did what I do best: I harnessed the creative powers of my friends and convinced them to work all day for free. The whole thing came together in a few days, and we were ready to roll.

Conditions were against us. We had little time and space to work, and God himself seemed to disapprove. The afternoon sun was obliterated by a fierce thunderstorm that robbed us of natural light. Still, we pushed through and got it done - with the help of 3 bottles of wine and some sake. My “cast” and “crew” were amazing.

Now, there’s no turning back. I’ve just submitted my application, and I need your support. Please vote for me and, if you like the video, spread the word!

A million thanks to Adam Bishop, Hanae Tanaka, Tamami Sasaki, Minako Okamoto, JP and Misha!

New Zealand Wines Take Tokyo by Storm

2009-06-09T11:37:00.009+09:00

Here in Japan, New Zealand wine has become synonymous with vivacious, fruit-driven Sauvignon Blanc. As such, I’d expected to see armies of these wines at last week’s New Zealand wine fair. They were there, all right, standing at full, crisp attention, but I was pleasantly surprised to find, scattered among the troops, a large number of wines made from Pinot Gris and other varieties. After talking to winery representatives, I learned that more and more producers are expanding their portfolios beyond the ubiquitous Sauvignon Blanc grape.

Around the world, Pinot Gris still enjoys less popularity than Pinot Grigio, its lighter, more acidic Italian incarnation. We don’t come across it that often in Tokyo, although I suspect it would be received quite favorably here. The dominant style in New Zealand is smooth-textured and off-dry, with a neat thread of acidity running throughout. I have to confess that, after sampling around 20 very pungent Sauvignon
Blancs from Marlborough – all with intense, vibrant grapefruit on the nose and passion fruit on the palate laced with searing acidity – I was grateful to encounter some of that soothing Pinot Gris.

Riesling and Gewurztraminer also made strong showings. Many of the Rieslings demonstrated abundant floral aromas and bold white grape (think Welch’s) and Muscat flavors. The Gewurztraminers brimmed with roses and spice, but I was pleased to note that several seemed actually quite drinkable, being neither overly sweet nor flabby.

There were lots of great whites, far too many to list, but here are a few of the ones that grabbed my attention.

Misha’s Vineyard “The Gallery” Gewurztraminer ’08 – delicate floral aromas followed by rose petals and a trace of mineral on the palate, full impact but light texture with good balance and a slightly sweet finish. Gentle.

Anthem Pinot Gris Central Otago ’07 – smooth, with just a touch of honey sweetness. Mannerly, but in a good way.

Waimea Pinot Gris ’08 – hints of pear, nice body, with a rolling sweetness toward the finish.

Peregrine Pinot Gris Central Otago ’08 – striking pear flavors backed by refreshing acidity. Light and lovely.

Tinpot Hut Pinot Gris Marlborough ’08 – subtle, with hints of apple, pear, and baked treats.

Staete Landt Sauvignon Blanc Marlborough ’07 – smoky, Poully-Fume-esque mineral undertones, with nice balance.

Pegasus Bay Sauvignon Blanc/Semillion Waipara ’08 – intriguing, musky and earthy aromas give way to bright fruit and lively acidity. Pleasant weight and mouthfeel.

Of course, it would be unfair not to mention the red wines. Lush Pinot Noir is one of New Zealand’s great gifts to the world, but I also discovered some outstanding Cabernet blends and Syrahs.

Ata Rangi Pinot Noir Marlborough ’06 – sprightly, almost spritzy impact with firm acidity and light body. Noticeable tannins and a touch of leather in the finish. Serious but far from fusty.

Schubert Block B Pinot Noir Wairarapa ’07 – fruity and round, but surprisingly dry with supple structure.

Gladstone Pinot Noir Wairarapa ’06 – Fruit-forward and fleshy with soft tannins and good acidity.

Misha’s Vineyard “The Audition” Pinot Noir ’07 – unfiltered, playful and fruity, with new oak nuance, exotic scents of sandalwood and spice.

Temata Coleraine Cabernet Sauvignon/Merlot Hawke’s Bay ’06 and ’07 – both really delicious, the Cab-based one tastes like Christmas, while the Merlot-based one shows terrific hints of cedar.

Man O’War Syrah Waiheke Island ’08 – one of my favorites all day, the kind of wine you’d kiss on the first date. Solid tannic bones with lots of muscle and smoky depth. A touch of Viognier gives it that extra-special something. It’s mighty-mighty.

The turnout at this event was fantastic. I had a lot of fun, although evidently not as much as the woman beside me at the Jeroboam booth.

“Subarashii!” she squealed, pointing to a bottle of Craggy Range Pinot Noir.

She was flushed and her eyes bounced excitedly behind her glasses.

“Are you with the press?” she asked.

“Um, sort of,” I smiled.

“Which of these do you like?”

“This one’s not bad,” I nodded in the direction of Dog Point.

“Sure, but this one is…is…” she shook her head and waved her hands, “subarashii!”

“Oh, yes,” I smiled, holding out my glass for a taste, “I’ve had that before and it’s very nice.”

The rep eyed me warily and poured a miserly centimeter of wine into my glass.

“But I’m not drunk!” I wanted to protest. “I don’t even know that lady!”

Instead, I moved on. Moments later, at the Clos Henri booth, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Kore mo subarashii!”

That was my cue to leave. But I’ll be looking forward to sampling more great New Zealand wines next year!

I've Eaten Here: Les Creations de Narisawa

2009-06-02T11:45:00.002+09:00

When Gordon Ramsay delivers this line on Kitchen Nightmares, it's invariably shouted - at full, angry volume - in order to excoriate restaurateurs for the sanitary conditions in their kitchens. But I'm appropriating this phrase for the opposite reason, to indicate that I am very happy to have dined at this restaurant.

This is, or so I hope, the first installment of a series of reports on my experiences with haute cuisine in Tokyo. And what better place to start than Les Creations de Narisawa, the only restaurant in Japan to make it onto the San Pellegrino list of top 50 restaurants in the world?

While you're at it, take a sneaky peek at my decadent meal at A Ta Gueule. If you're not drooling by the end of the article, I haven't done my job properly.

If you're in Tokyo and would like to receive a free glass of Hennessy Fine Champagne VSOP Cognac, print out this coupon and take it straight to the Riedel Wine Boutique in Aoyama!

I Surivived the Nagano Sake Messe!

2009-05-26T09:13:00.003+09:00

The Nagano Sake Messe is one of my favorite tasting events every year, although it can also be the most taxing. Between the 600 sake and the seemingly thousands of tasters, it’s a bit of sensory overload. Still, I always have a great time. One of the most striking things is how friendly and approachable the Nagano brewers are.

Entrance to the event costs a mere Y2000, but with the downloadable coupon, you only have to pay Y1500. This year, though, there was another special discount that allowed people dressed in traditional Japanese gear to get in for Y1000. I’d thought it was a novel idea, but I didn’t really expect to see anyone go through with it. However, a surprising number of people - both men and women – turned out in yukata or kimono.

“You should do that next year,” JP suggested.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“It would diminish my credibility.”

Laughter.

“Well,” I crossed my arms tightly across my chest. “It’s difficult to spit in a kimono, at any rate.”

There was a lot of good sake this year. Because I’d managed to stay for roughly hours, I was able to taste a fair amount of it. At this tasting, too, I thought the sake was lighter overall. There were prominent herbaceous notes and noticeable astringency in much of the Miyama Nishiki sake that I tried (last year, I picked up on more bitter notes and the sake had a softer quality). I also saw more sake made with Hitogokochi.

There are really too many good ones to list, but here are just a few of the sakes that I enjoyed.

Sakunohana Junmai Ginjo Nama Natsu-gentei – full, rounded impact, smooth but light texture. Made with yeast #18.

Takashige Karakuchi Nama Genshu Aged Yamahai. - What can I say? This was so up my alley, a real mouthful, with chewy sweetness and an oily texture.

Takashige Miyamanishiki Kimoto – Whoops, didn’t note the grade, but this baby was super-rich, packed with generous butterscotch flavors.

Mizuo Junmai Ginjo – peppery, woodsy, with bitter notes in the finish. Nice and dry.

Kawanakajima Maruboshi Mai Miyama Nishiki Ginjo – This had good range. It was dry overall, but with a bright, acidic attack (and I must use the word attack here) and juicy bubble-fruit (don’t ask) on the palate, with soft bitterness in the finish.

I was also really impressed by several products from Matsuo.

Matsuo White Label Junmai-shu had a quiet nose and billowing umami, with hints of salted banana taffy on the palate. The Shinanodaichi Tokubetsu Junmai-shu was rich and savory, with mellow flavors of bamboo. The Matsubotan Junmai Daiginjo was packed with sweet-edged umami richness that ended in a clean finish. I also tried it slightly warmed, and it was terrific. All of these were made with 100% Miyama Nishiki and aged in the bottle.

You’ll have to excuse me. For some inexplicable reason, I’m in a Pollyanna-Sunshine good mood today. Will be back with more biting sarcasm next week, but til then, happy drinking!

Shinshu on my Mind

2009-05-19T07:24:00.004+09:00

What a week! I've been plodding through a steady stream of deadlines this month, and my brain is constantly churning. I feel like I've hardly had a moment to relax. Such is the plight of modern life, especially if you live in a big city like Tokyo and have an internet connection.

Moreover, I've finally succumbed to Twitter, which has opened up new and exciting avenues for procrastination.

That said, I'd promised to let you know some of my top picks from last week's Shinshu festival, so here goes.

Denshu Kononishi Junmai Daiginjo - a wine-like, fragrant bouquet followed by chewy lactic notes and firm acidity on the palate. I could see this pairing well with a number of dishes.

Nambu Bijin Miyama Nishiki Junmai Ginjo - lively, with flavors of red licorice and a touch of mineral gravitas in the finish.

Kariho Junmai Ginjo - made with yeast #15, really juicy impact and light texture with smoky, ricey flavors.

Eikofuji Junmai Ginjo Shinken - grainy texture, but dry and clean, with some soft bitter noted in the finish.

Kudoki Jozu Junmai Daiginjo Super - made with Kairyo Shinko rice, smooth, rolling, soft and complex, very fruity. True to Kudoki Jozu's style.

Dewazakura Yukimanman Daiginjo Daikoshu - aged five years, this daiginjo was round and deep, with well-integrated bitteress in the background. The closest sake can come to being avuncular.

Suehiro Gensai Daiginjo - Solid impact, richly layered midpalate and a surprisingly sweet finish.

Suehiro Mai Daiginjo - made with kyonohana rice, good depth, mellow with a touch of honey. I heard this sake is a perennial favorite among the ladies, and I can see why. Actually, I really liked the entire Suehiro line-up this year. The president told me that their Ken Daiginjo was served at a Grammy afterparty.

Azuma Rikishi also caught my attention, and I quite liked their Jumai Daiginjo Nakadori Muroka Nama Genshu. Made with gohyakumangoku rice, it had a generous midpalate with hints of marshmallow surrounding a fruity center, but it still managed to be dry overall. Their aged Uroko was also great, very broad and complex.

Yukidoke Junmai Ginjo aged Genshu was juicy juicy and very likable.

Homare Kirin Junmai Daiginjo Choutanrei - as expected, dry as a bone, but with a toasted rice flavors imparting richness.

Taiyozakuri Daiginjo - really surprising, a complex mix of tropical fruits on the nose; peppermint, fruit, and ricey notes on the palate; and light, dry texture followed by a soft finish.

Fukucho Junmai Daiginjo Nakagumi Yamada Nishiki - an opening salvo of fruity exuberance. Melon, Japanese pear, and hints of stone fruits laced with smoky nuance and a mild sweetness.

Tenzan Hotarugawa Daiginjo - elegant and complex, with a smooth, light texture and nice depth.

If I'd had the chance to get through all of the sake that day, I'm sure this list would be longer. Now that that's out of the way, though, I can turn my attention to the Nagano sake messe today - with 600 sakes to sample, I'll need every ounce of concentration I can muster.

On another note, my new sake friend Greg took leave of us to make his life as a kurabito up in Nagano. It's such a bold move. Then again, I suppose it won't be a huge leap from microbiology. Best of luck, Greg!

Sake, Por Favor

2009-05-13T12:51:00.003+09:00

Sake education is on the rise, with fans talking nihonshu from Boston to Beijing. Now, there's a new voice to add to the discussion, and it has a Castilian accent. Our Spanish-speaking friends can read all about sake basics, history, production, and tasting techniques in a recently published book called Sake by Antonio Campins Chaler. Muy bueno!

In the Thick of It: Spring Sake Tastings

2009-05-12T16:32:00.005+09:00

You really start to wonder what the day has in store for you when the only seat left on the train is between two people sniffling and wearing white masks. On the one hand, you’re happy to have a place to sit, on the other, you’d rather not catch swine flu. But if you’re feeling unwell yourself and have a long ride ahead, you just have to go for it and pray that they have allergies.

I always feel stupid waking up with a hangover, but yesterday I cursed myself with particular ferocity. I’d had the Shinshu Festival marked on my calendar for at least a month and had been looking forward to sampling the spring releases from the 60-odd breweries in the Ginjo Kyoukai, including a number of contest gold-medalists. It’s one of the busiest tastings of the year, and, to get through it, you must be prepared mentally as well as physically.

I was not in good shape. You would think I'd have learned my lesson after attending 2 distributor tastings on an empty stomach last month - no fun. That time, I’d gone with John Gauntner and basically ended up eating his dust for four hours. The man's hard enough to keep up with when you're in tip-top tasting condition.

As I contemplated the task before me, a dull ache settled in my temples. I am, however, a professional – at least that’s what I keep telling myself – and eventually mustered up the courage to face the hundreds of sakes I knew would be waiting for me. Realizing that there was no way I’d be able to get though it all, I quickly assessed the room and made note of the most crowded booths:

Denshu (so popular that they ran out of their tobin within the first 45 minutes! I didn’t even get to try it.)
Mansaku no Hana
Tenju (wildly popular among the, erm, senior contingent at the event)
Kudoki Jozu
Suehiro
Azuma Rikushi
Yukidoke (at the other extreme, popular with the younger people at the tasting)
Kirin
Chiyomusubi
Fukucho

I split my attention between breweries I was already fairly familiar with and breweries I didn’t know well, but decided to hold off on the sake from producers I’d sampled recently.

As expected, I only managed to cover a little more than half of the booths in the allotted two hours, but the sake was good. Overall, I noticed a great deal of emphasis on rice varieties and their unique characteristics. Many strains were local, highly area-specific, and the brewers were taking the time to point that fact out. The weight and texture of most of the sake was lighter and more subtle than a couple of years ago, and I encountered fewer full-on fruit bombs.

One happy surprise was that there seemed to be more young people at the tasting. Another surprise was that someone actually stopped me to ask which sakes I’d liked best – and took notes. I was genuinely taken aback. Never mind that I'd spent most of the time wandering the tasting floor like a wraith, muttering, “Keep it together, keep it together” like an angry mantra; somehow, I fooled one person.

Check back soon to see my top picks! For those of you who don't already know, the huge Nagano Sake Messe is happening on May 19th. Download the coupon o their website for a Y500 discount, and get there as early as humanly possible.

Green Thumbs Up

2009-05-06T08:06:00.002+09:00

It’s Golden Week in Japan, and I’ve been tending my garden. When I say “garden,” I really mean “window box and four pots on the balcony,” and by “tending,” I mean “watering.” Even so, my little plant fam is thriving, save one sad cilantro experiment. Blessed with the gene that enables me to appreciate the idiosyncratic aroma of fresh coriander, I am a huge fan. A couple of months ago, JP and I decided to try growing our own, and the results amazed us. Within a few weeks, our cilantro was robust and flourishing, with sturdy purple stalks and an abundance of lush green leaves that we harvested a couple of times. Last week, however, our bushy plant began withering away. The leaves had turned yellow and a spidery, translucent film covered the soil. Because I know next to nothing about plants and am too lazy to search on the internet, I emailed my friend Mark, who sent me this terrific advice. I swear the man should have his own column – Dear Abby for gardening tyros.

Hi Melinda,

Glad to be of horticultural assistance. The translucent film sounds
like slug or snail trails. The first thing is to look underneath the
pot for the buggers. Another possibility is over-watering. If the soil
is always very damp, the plant will go yellow and the roots will rot.
How much sun does it get? It is good to get the soil warm and dry for
one day - but not too dry or it will just die! Actually, cilantro is
very hard to grow, and only lasts a month or two as a mature plant.
Has it seeded yet? After it seeds, it will die.

So now you start to see the real wonder of the food on our plate. 7
billion people all being kept alive by the most delicate of ecological
interactions. And what do they say? The world has two weeks of food in
reserve?

Anyway, at this time of the year, coriander grows very fast, so I'd
just start again!

Who knew? I’d always thought of cilantro as a hardy weed - a survivor - and I’d taken the flowers as a sign of health. At any rate, I’m keen to begin afresh and am preparing the soil for a second planting. In the meantime, my arugula is coming along rather nicely. Soon, some of its succulent leaves will find their way into a salad bowl.

Naturally, when I look at my herb garden, my mind runs through possible pairing options. Both cilantro and arugula can be tricky, but there are at least a few good matches out there.

My first recommendation is Montes Cherub Rose of Syrah. This medium-bodied, deep ruby rose has plenty of personality to stand up to strong flavors. The wine has great balance, just the right amount of acidity, sweetness, and charm to make it versatile. We loved it the other night with salmon stir-fried with yellow peppers, black mushrooms, and handfuls of fresh coriander. I could also imagine it pairing with the white asparagus topped with grilled haloumi and arugula salad that we had at Cujorl a couple of months ago.

As the weather warms up, I find myself cruising the white wine aisles more often and more seriously. Come August, there won’t be a bottle of red in the house, but I’ll probably stock up on Gatao Vinho Verde. With its low alcohol content, razor-sharp acidity, and gentle effervescence, it really helps cool you off. Cevice loaded with cilantro is a natural companion. This food-friendly wine gives you lots of leeway, though - shrimp salad and arugula canapés; soba noodles tossed with fresh herbs and a soy-sesame oil dressing; tuna salad with apples, olives, and herbs; salt-cod fritters on a bed of arugula.

On a side note, I’m starting to think that any Portuguese wine can work with cilantro, particularly when combined with orange (and meat). Last week, we had pork and bean stew, infused with orange and covered with cilantro, and it was magic with reds from both Alentejo and Dao. One I remember is the Esporao Alentejo Reserva 2005. This wine is full-bodied and smooth, with generous dark berry fruit at the fore and unique flavors of smoky wood, sandalwood, and – although this sounds unflattering – sawdust coming through on the palate.

If you’re pairing with light dishes in particular, you can’t go wrong with sake. Masumi’s Junmai Ginjo Arabashiri is lovely this year, full of character. The somewhat quiet nose is followed by a sweet impact wrapped in acidity – it reminded me a little of Smarties – and a soft, slightly bitter finish. It has light body and a touch of that fresh, arabashiri zing. One thing that makes this sake interesting is the wave-like, reaching quality it has on the midpalate; it’s a feeling of incipience, like the flavors are just emerging and waiting for you to seek them out. I can think of lots of things to go with this - Vietnamese rice paper rolls, cold somen noodles with cucumbers and fresh herbs, prosciutto and arugula salad dressed with lemon, to name of few.

Good luck to any other budding gardeners out there. If you start thinking of alcohol the next time you water your plants, I will feel certain that I’ve done my job.

Going to Meet the Michelin Man

2009-04-27T13:54:00.003+09:00

Coolly charming and impeccably styled, Jean-Luc Naret cut a dashing figure in his crisp, black suit and white shirt. He looked, as my friend Yuchin would say, expensive, but sartorial perfection is probably mandatory for the director of the Michelin guides. I, on the other hand, looked like a slob. Sneaker-shod, bearing a disconcerting resemblance to Whoopi Goldberg in a loose knit dress and leggings, I began to worry that the days spent working at home in my pajamas had warped my sense of style.

I’d been asked to interview him about the upcoming Kyoto/Osaka guide for the Japan Times. Mr. Naret has the habit of smiling at the end of his sentences, though this did little to put me at ease. Throughout our 30-minute chat, I remained nervous, much more concerned about my sweaty hands (a cruel scourge that has plagued me since childhood – I still wince at the memory of piano recitals) than the assignment I’d been given. Even so, that didn’t stop me from shamelessly angling for a job.

“How…” I began, questioning the appropriateness of the words to follow, “does one go about becoming a Michelin inspector?”

The director raised one eyebrow imperceptibly. “Well, obviously, we don’t advertise,” he said. “We’re looking for people who are passionate about food with an eye for detail. We get a lot of writers.”

“I’m a writer!” I stopped myself from saying.

“We never take people who have been working as food critics or chefs,” he continued.

“I’m not a food critic, I just write about bars!” I muffled the interjection.

Mr. Naret, who had been sitting perfectly still for 20 minutes, shifted slightly in his seat, as though afflicted by mild gastric discomfort.

“A new way of getting the right people is usually to get people as sommeliers, who’ve already been trained in other countries, who’ve already got the palate and can identify the different textures and flavors.”

I nodded, far too enthusiastically. Mr. Naret shifted again.

“What we do is take them to lunch, and at the end of the lunch, we ask them to tell us their experience in two pages,” he said.

“I could do that!” I shouted with my eyes, leaning forward in my seat like the annoying kid who knows all the answers in class.

Mr. Naret was gracious not to acknowledge my hidden agenda by laughing in my face. It was, to be fair, frankly ridiculous. But for a moment, I wondered if it might not be too late for me to change professions. We all need dreams, don’t we?

What's in a Stereotype?

2009-04-22T10:45:00.002+09:00

Say what you will about Nobuyuki Matsuhisa. Lauded by fans as the man who brought Japanese cuisine to the rest of the world and reviled by detractors as a sell-out, he's a divisive figure among foodies. But he must be doing something right - his fusion-fueled empire now spans 11 countries. Ironically, the one place where Nobu isn’t so hot is his native Japan. I thought of this as I watched him give his presentation during the Tokyo Taste food summit.

Clearly nervous and sweating profusely, Nobu demonstrated some of his signature dishes : “new style” sashimi, fish in wasabi-butter sauce, sashimi salad. Like fellow expatriate Tetsuya Wakuda, he mumbled something about being more used to giving these kinds of presentations in English. I felt for him, even more so when the woman who’d volunteered to sample his food started picking at it.

“What do you think of the new style sashimi?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s very delicious,” she tried hard to sound enthusiastic, “but…cilantro….is…difficult for me.”

I wanted to throw her off the stage.

Later, though, I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of annoyance when Nobu explained that he uses a lot of soy sauce, wasabi, and garlic because foreign people really like those strong flavors.

“Now you’re painting with a broad brush,” I huffed to myself. “As though foreign palates are so dull they can only discern aggressive flavors, like we’re all Australian Shiraz and chili, all the time.” I crossed and uncrossed my legs irritably.

Still, as he swirled a knob of butter and garlic in his pan with a mixture of wasabi, soy sauce, and dashi, I couldn’t resist the aroma. It was narcotic, and it made me hate the lady on the stage even more.

The memory of this experience inspired me to recreate the sauce at home the other night. I used it with salmon, and the result was delicious. JP and I enjoyed this little experiment with a bottle of Taninoi Yuki no Tage namazake that my adorable friend Rachel smuggled out of Niigata.

Taninoi is a tiny brewery, and the conservative kuramoto refuses to export his sake – even outside of the prefecture! His logic is that other people won’t fully appreciate it, so it’s not worth the cost and bother of advertising and shipping. I should also note here that the president also doesn’t allow women in the brewery. Even in the famously old-fashioned sake world, this is pretty rare.

Although I can’t say that I agree with the kuramoto’s views, I can tell you that the sake is lovely. Bursting with fresh aromas of anise and fruit that hint at sweetness, the sake is really clean and finishes without a trace of stickiness. It’s a high-alcohol number, so we each added an ice cube to our cups, which made it much lighter and milder on impact. After a few days, though, it mellowed out beautifully and became smooth and supple, a terrific match for the fennel and crispy proscuitto salad we had last night.

I hope that Taninoi’s president changes his mind and starts spreading some of his sake around. Mine is one unsophisticated foreign palate that likes it very much.

Cause Celebre

2009-04-10T10:08:00.003+09:00

I would never describe myself as the star-struck type. Celebrities fail to arouse in me the pulse-quickening excitement and stupefying awe that they do in other people. Only once in my life have I ever requested an autograph, from Alan Ginsberg shortly before his death, and I don’t even have it anymore: when I asked him to sign something for me, he asked if he could sign my stomach. The ink has since faded.

Having said that, though, I have to confess that I nearly choked upon hearing that David Sedaris had spent three months in Japan while working on his book, When You Are Engulfed in Flames.

“Why didn’t he call me?” I wondered. Lost for a moment in delusion, I was genuinely puzzled.

Of course, I have no reason to assume that David Sedaris would know who the hell I am, much less get in touch with me, but I couldn’t help feeling hurt. For some inexplicable reason, I have a strong attachment to this particular author. After all, haven’t people been comparing my writing style to his for years? So what if those people were just my friends from Berkeley. When I learned that someone had been calling himself the David Sedaris of wine writing, I was livid; that was a role I’d tacitly claimed as my own long ago.

I’d probably been sulking over the Sedaris snub for days by the time I caught up with my friend Sophie for a drink at Kuri. When we met in front of the Sony Plaza, she turned to me and said, “Did you know that David Sedaris was here working on his book?”

“Yeah, I’d heard that,” I answered, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Don’t tell anyone, but when I found out, I thought, ‘Oh, what a shame, we could have gone for a drink!’” Her eyes grew wide, and she made an exaggerated gesture, like someone taking a stab at a trivia question. “Can you believe it? I actually thought that!”

“Oh girl, I thought the same thing,” I said, putting my hand on her arm. I was relieved. Not only had we both been affected by the Sedaris fantasy, Sophie had gone one step further and imagined him calling her for a drink. This opened up new possibilities to obsess over. On our way to the bar, all I could think of was where to take him.

“Well, surely, he’d like to try sake,” I thought, “So I could bring him here, too, and set up a tasting for him.”

As soon as the thought occurred to me, a shadow of doubt crossed my mind. If we were at a sake bar, I’d probably geek out and bore him stiff. No, no, better to stick with wine.

“Okay, New York Bar might be good,” I deliberated, considering the Lost in Translation reference. Would he find that clichéd? “If he’s a real connoisseur, perhaps I should take him to Elevage.”

But Elevage is so quiet, and I wasn’t even sure if he drank wine. I knew he liked champagne, but…

“Ah! He likes Scotch!” I remembered. “We can go to Helmsdale!”

Not entirely satisfied with my new choice, I decided that someplace kitschy might appeal to his quirky sense of aesthetics.

“Piano Bar in Nonbei Yokocho? How about Tomorrow in Golden Gai?”

Once we sat down, though, I came back to reality. Sophie and I immediately ordered two tasting flights and launched into a juicy gossip session. By the time we’d clinked glasses for the sixth time, I’d come to terms with the fact that I’d probably never sit in this bar with David Sedaris, and that was fine. It would likely end up being an hour of painful small talk, or turn into an interview about his career.

“Who needs David Sedaris,” I slurred.

“What?” Sophie giggled.

“Oh, nothing,” I mumbled, “Cheers, honey.”