Kikusui Funaguchi Ichiban Shibori Honzojo, Niigata Prefecture
Thursday, January 24th, 2008I’ll admit it right off the bat: I’m a serious sake snob. I don’t mean that in the sense that I believe my taste in aake is superior to anyone else′s, only that I’m extremely picky when it comes to sake. In particular, I tend to discriminate on the basis of the class of sake. I tend to prefer ginjo and daiginjo sakes, and most often the junmai versions of these. Ginjo and daiginjo are the two top classes of sake, as measured by the degree to which the rice kernels used to make them have been milled or polished down to a fraction of their former size. Junmai refers to a sake making process that does not involve the addition of alcohol during the fermentation process (which tends to increase the aromatics of the final product, rather than increase its 
alcoholic strength).
My preference for these brews lies in my appreciation and preference for a particular set of qualities possessed by sake: light, ethereal, floral qualities that evoke a flower garden after a rainstorm. My attraction to such flavors, and the types of sake that most often deliver them tends to steer me away from several other types of sake, including the lowest grade of “quality designated” sakes classified under the designation honzojo Honzojo sakes are typically made from rice that has been polished down to at least 70% of its original mass, though technically there is no strict requirement on how much it is milled.
Of course, there’s nothing wrong at all with honzojo sakes (or the ordinary, non-designated sakes which make up more than 75% of the total volume of sake production in Japan), which can have every bit as much personality and appeal as their more “refined” ginjo and daiginjo cousins. Still, it’s rare that I come across an example of a honzojo sake that makes me sit up and take notice, which is why I was quite astonished when, at a recent dinner in Tokyo at a tiny restaurant with some friends, I was told the sake I was enjoying so much was a simple honzojo.
At least, that’s the easiest way to briefly describe this sake from a brewery called Kikusui. The true story of the sake is a bit more complicated. While most certainly a classic honzojo sake, this sake is also a namazake, which means that it is not pasteurized before bottling. Wine lovers can think of namazake like they might wine made from “free run juice,” the wine which pours off of the newly fermented grapes without the aid of a press. Also known as “draft” sake, this type of sake is quite delicate in disposition, and easily affected by age, sunlight, and other environmental factors.
Indeed, the commercial sale of such sake on a broad scale was not possible until Kikusui figured out how to stabilize these sakes enough to get them into a bottle, or as is common these days, a can. At least according to the brewery, Kikusui was the first to commercially package and sell namazake.
The instability and mutability of namazake is part of the appeal for many people. Soon after bottling and release, draft sake has a freshness of acidity and purity of flavor that makes it extra appealing to folks like me that seek more subtlety from our sake. After six months, the flavor begins to incorporate more woody, creamy, and herbal components, and at a year or more, the sake can taste downright mushroomy. Such variation and the affinity for it among sake lovers in Japan has led Kikusui to also release an “aged” version of this sake.
The Kikusui Brewery was established in 1881 after the 16-year-old Setsugoro Takasawa was given a liquor license by his uncle so that he might start his own business. With no knowledge of what was a poorly documented and poorly understood process at the time, it took years for Takasawa to produce a commercially viable product, but in 1896 the brewery was granted the more official designation of an approved sake producer. Three generations later, after relocating to Niigata prefecture, the brewery is still managed by the descendants of its founder.
Tasting Notes:
Colorless in the glass, this sake has a nose that hints at pink bubblegum, rainwater, and pastry cream. In the mouth it is slippery and slightly thick on the tongue, with bright acidity enveloping flavors of rainwater, white flowers, and linalool (think: the smell of fruit loops), with a tiny bit of alcoholic heat on the finish. The overall impression is fresh and bouncy, like an enthusiastic two year old just out of the bath.
Food Pairing:
I had this sake with a chawan mushi — a savory steamed egg custard filled with crab, and it was a delightful pairing — though it also stood up to grilled Kobe beef later in the meal.
Overall Score: 8.5
How Much?: $5 for a can, or about $10 for a 720ml bottle.
This wine is available for purchase on the internet.
Original post by Italian Wine Guy®
There’s definitely something to be said for finding your niche and sticking with it. For nearly 10 years the Bubble Lounge has been serving Champagne and sparkling wine to San Francisco’s jet set and financial district fun seekers. While the dot-com boom days that packed them in are gone, the Bubble Lounge continues to be a popular post-work watering hole, and enough of a weekend seen that it can be a daunting place to drop in on a Friday night with friends without some pre-planning. Perhaps its continued popularity is due to its location at the nexus of Ad Agency Row and the Financial District, which tend to supply a never ending supply of account managers and analysts with a penchant for sparkling beverages.
During the harvest of 2006 when I was in Tuscany, I passed by an estate in Greve. I recognized the place as I passed it going to and coming from an appointment, and didn’t have time to stop. Behind the wall of the estate there is a story that is really out of this world. It is a story about a family with ties to Chianti that go all the way back to Ricasoli, pass through Antinori and head north towards Milan and Trentino, to the hillside vineyards of the Northeast. It is a story about a water parched parcel of earth, a noble family and a mystic farmer who brought water and abundance to the land.
There is no proper well on the property, so it must be abandoned during harsh weather. When a place is empty for periods of time, it is like a person who can read but only stares at a television. Things start to fall apart. Tuscany and all of Italy had the fortune in the past to have people who could read the land. But those people are dying and their craft has not been handed down. The craft of the diviner is one of those.
The mystic farmer fashioned a rod from a branch he found on the property. With it he started walking in search of the water source. At a point he found indications of water, but told the young man he wanted to find the place where the two underground rivers met. There is where the well would be dug and a stronger water force could be found.
When the farmer came around to collect his fee, he was apologetic and didn’t want to accept any money. He felt bad that he had misled the young man and made him drill deeper than he had divined. The young man persuaded the old man to accept his fee, and asked the old man how much it would be. The farmer explained that he had expenses and had to keep his old farm running and had to keep food on the table. This talent that he had was a way for him to subsist. The young man started getting nervous, thinking this was going to cost more than he had imagined or allocated. When the old man asked him for 250 Euros, the wise young man wrote him out a check for 1,000 Euros. Because the old man had miscalculated the depth by four times, the young man also miscalculated by four times when he paid the fee. It seemed a fitting way to repay the man for his “mistake”.
Now the property still carries the Italian name “Re-dried”, but the property has water year round. Swimming pools dot the property and the vines bear luscious fruit which become delicious wines.
