Sake is an industry focused on consistency to a considerable degree. By comparison, craft beer is increasingly characterized by one-offs, iterations, and seasonals. Flagship brands struggle for sustained attention. It’s not that craft beer brewers don’t want consistency; they simply have other prerogatives and variables at play. Part of the intrigue of wine, meanwhile, is the difference from year to year. Value is built around change.
For all our talk of innovation in the sake industry, much of it is in the pursuit of consistency. How–sake producers and researchers ask–might we produce the same product year after year even as rice harvests change? We’ve collected many anecdotes of brewers or brewery owners confronted in town by disgruntled regulars who thought that that year’s flavor differed perceptibly from previous years. Independent retailers can be vocal as well. Even within the brewery, veteran workers are sometimes loath to make changes, as if they feel they are disturbing a legacy. An attitude lingers whereby sake is seen almost like a Noh play, to be performed without variation for all time. There is certainly a deeply ingrained cultural proclivity working here.
We encounter these stories especially when we interview young, multigenerational brewery owners that have taken the reins of the family business. They come in with a different, often more refined, appreciation of taste. They demand change sometimes because they recognize it’s the only thing that will allow the brewery to survive. Tweaks over a few brewing seasons to hone in on a flavor profile more aligned with contemporary tastes and trends becomes a mission. Eventually, most settle on a winning formula and return to consistency, but we get the impression that more brewery owners and toji have become nimble of mind. They are more readily willing to set aside consistency for the idea of changes that might yield positive results. This is reflected in the diversity of offerings presented to consumers, too. Experimentation has opened a cornucopia of sake that would not have been possible with a total obsession over consistency.
If change is good for the sake industry it’s probably good for this magazine, too. A ‘magazine’ is a concept more so than it is a physical artifact. It has a start and an end that’s usually digestible in a single sitting, and also a certain… consistency when it comes to its content presentation, from the design themes to the regular article formats. But the occasional change to our approach and content surely won’t hurt; rather, it will help provide perspective and context to our usual content.
For this issue’s prefectural feature, we look at Okinawa. Instead of sake (which it doesn’t have much of), we explore its culture and history of awamori, the indigenous beverage of that ancient island kingdom. Could there be a renaissance on the horizon as there has been for premium sake?
While we generally prefer our sake ‘as is’, we can’t deny that sake-beer fusions have found favor among an increasing minority of drinkers. The phenomenon has a richer history than you might expect.
For our domestic brewery feature we look at Tanaka Shuzōten in Miyagi prefecture. Like many breweries, they are big on tradition. Or are they? They have embarked on a blending endeavor that is somewhat controversial among sake aficionados, but maybe it’s part of a fledgling trend.
As in recent issues, we profile a non-Japanese individual immersed in the sake industry in Japan. For this feature, we linger in Kyoto. Maybe it’s not too late for you to make a career change!
The rest of our content is more of what you’re probably familiar with in these pages. We have a guide to Kanagawa breweries which are taking steps to enable proper kura tourism. We salute that! We go on a culinary journey with sake as an ingredient, not simply a pairing partner. And our closing essay considers competition. If you’ve read this far, you’re already winning! Keep reading, keep winning…
