Women And Sake
"He was her homecoming. Kika sai. The final step in a Shinto funeral where the ashes were placed inside the family shrine."
Dear Drink To That reader,
As a Japanese drinks educator, one of my favourite things to do is signpost people towards products they might have never tried before like sake, shochu and awamori.
With this signposting comes the acknowledgement that there’s a diverse range of folks championing these categories and a lot of them are women.
This edition of the newsletter is focused on championing women in the Japanese drink industry, along with a short story that keeps to this theme.
Women of Japanese drinks
Erika Haigh - founder of Moto, the UK’s first sake bar in London
Junko Kashiwagi - Toji (head brewer) of the Hanaharu brewery
Rie Hoshi - Toji of Kitanohana brewery
Saori Kobari - Toji of Daitengu brewery
Satomi Dosseur - Sake educator and founder of Enshu
Lucy Wilson - Co-founder of UK’s first sake brewery Kanpai
Giulia Maglio - Co-founder of Sake Unplugged podcast and sake educator
Cindy Bissig - Co-founder of Sake Unplugged podcast and sake educator
Kyoko Nagano - Co-Founder of Sake Lovers and sake educator
Miho Fujita - Toji and President of Mioya brewery
Kika Sai
The Kimura Brewery blossomed with the aroma of steamed rice escaping from the fermentation tanks. To Mariko, it was the smell of a new sake season, of memories, of simpler days brought to life. She strolled by the tanks, making conversation with the kurabito, asking how they were and the health of their families.
No member of the team was left out. Mariko stopped by the koji room and had the familiar sensation of stepping into a sacred place. The heat inside the room felt pleasant on her skin, like basking in an onsen bath. The workers bowed politely in greeting and she returned the gesture, indicating that they could continue.
Each man worked in union, walking up and down the line of trays, sprinkling mould onto the rice in perfect synchronicity.
It was like watching a graceful dance unfold, every movement choreographed to the rhythm of music only the men could hear. Her ritual complete, Mariko went to the upper floor of the brewery to her office.
She made herself a green tea, settled down to check over the quarterly figures, studying the data to see where improvements could be made, and how processes could be tweaked to continue to produce batches of sake she could be proud of.
Her gaze flashed to her family’s Kamon on the wall, a crest of the three-legged crow Yatagarasu, and she imagined her ancestors were smiling down on her. The Kimura clan had been producing nihonshu in Yamaguchi Prefecture for over three hundred years and had served the shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu at the height of his power.
Mariko was proud of her samurai heritage, but she’d never set out with a plan to take over the brewery from her father as kuramoto and toji.
When she was younger, being the owner and head brewer was so far outside of her plans that she wouldn’t have been able to picture it. Now, she couldn’t think of doing anything else. Her phone buzzed and she read Akihiro’s text, a reminder that their table was booked for 7:30 PM.
She smiled at her son’s diligence and at the thought of needing to be reminded about her own birthday meal. Mariko was often so busy working that she could forget to check her calendar.
Today she turned 47 years old. The same age as her father when he’d taken over the brewery from his father. There was something auspicious about that. Feeling nostalgic, Mariko wandered to the bottling room to help the staff label the nihonshu.
She picked up a bottle of Kika Sai, the brewery’s junmai daiginjo sake, tracing her fingers over the kanji that adorned the label. When her father had become ill, Mariko and her son had been living in Seattle.
She was working as a graphic designer and hairstylist. She’d returned to Japan to look after him with her mother and, for a time, it looked as if he was going to recover.
But cancer didn’t care for hope or optimism. In the end, all they could do was make him comfortable and give him the send-off that he requested. The funeral had been in the Shinto tradition, twenty steps that purified and honored the deceased.
Through each step, Mariko saw her father through new eyes. His strength. His passion. His desire to keep the tradition alive. He was her homecoming. Kika sai. The final step in a Shinto funeral where the ashes were placed inside the family shrine.
Whenever someone took a sip from the bottle, they were imbibing a part of her father’s story. Mariko moved on to Three Hearts, sake made in the honjozo and yamahai styles.
It was the brewery’s latest offering and, as she studied the playful octopus that curled around the bottle, her inner critic wondered if there was more preparation that needed to be done.
How would it be received by the public? Was there time to update the logo? Could the rice be polished more?
Mariko shook her head, the thoughts tumbling out. Of course, everything would be fine. She needed to stop worrying and let herself truly feel the anticipation of launching the product in the coming months.
She continued to work into the afternoon and then left the brewery to get changed for the meal. The train ride into Yamaguchi City went quickly and Mariko walked through the streets on her way to Sakemai, a comfortable restaurant in the center of the city.
She enjoyed the sights of the temples that reflected the local traditions. They were part of the reason this place had come to be known as the ‘Kyoto of the West.’
In her opinion, Yamaguchi was more laid-back than Kyoto. Less hectic. People took their time in Yamaguchi. Enjoyed every small detail. Akihiro was waiting for her when she entered the restaurant. He waved from a booth in the corner and Mariko took a moment to appreciate the handsome young man he’d grown into.
Since he’d started university in Shimonoseki, Mariko didn’t get to spend as much time with him as she used to. It was these small pockets of leisure between work and study that Mariko had come to savor.
“Have you been eating well? It looks like you’ve lost weight. I knew I should have sent you more home-cooked meals. There’s no substitute for that,” Mariko said, half-teasing, half-serious.
“The university provides excellent meals, mother.” Akihiro pushed his glasses up to stop them from falling down his nose. “And so does Sakemai. Happy birthday again.”
‘Thank you, Aki-kun. It’s good that we’re still able to spend time like this.” Mariko smiled, browsing the menu, her eyes scanning the selection of nihonshu, as much out of an intention to drink as to see if she recognized bottles made by friends at other breweries.
She ordered a glass of raifuku chokarakuchi and, while deciding on her food, asked Akihiro about how his course was going. “I feel good about it. Economics is stimulating enough. The final paper is coming up in a few weeks and it’s stressing me out.”
“That’s natural. Remember that no matter how hard the road gets, you’ve always got the family business to come back to.”
“I know. But bitcoin analysis feels like the loudest thing in my life right now. There’s a lot of investment potential in the space and the whole process of fluctuating values fascinates me. Cryptocurrency is the future.”
The future was a vague concept to Mariko, something that would always be redefined by the next generation. She was happy living in the moment with her son.
Although Mariko didn’t know about cryptocurrency she did know that she and Akihiro were cut from the same cloth. They were both curious souls who needed to leave their mark on the world. No matter where Akihiro ended up, she would be proud of him. Mariko asked Akihiro to tell her how bitcoin worked and a light flicked on in his eyes.
He spoke with confidence, his words radiating with passion and boldness. The emotion of how he presented his subject resonated. It reminded Mariko of the excitement and energy she put into her sake tours and tastings. Akihiro had all the makings of a great storyteller, whether he knew it or not.
Despite how busy the restaurant was, their food came in quick succession, a colorful kaiseki banquet: hearty miso soup, glittering sashimi, fluffy mountains of rice, grilled wagyu beef, steamed chawanmushi, all arranged on beautiful plates that matched the artistic feel of the venue.
Mariko mixed and matched with the sake, testing the flavors and analyzing the different sensations that fizzed and popped on her tongue. Akihiro ate clinically, picking one plate off at a time, taking small sips of water to quench his thirst.
“Are you working on any new types of sake?” He asked, dipping a piece of sushi in a bowl of soy sauce.
“You already know about Three Hearts. I’m also experimenting with a sparkling variety for the western market. Haven’t thought of a name for it yet.”
“It’ll come to you, mother. You’re the most creative person I know.” Akihiro browsed the drink menu. “Shall we order a bottle to celebrate your day?”
Mariko raised her eyebrows. Akihiro wasn’t usually the drinking type but perhaps university was changing him. She could see the shine on him. The blossoming of a young man who was finally becoming more comfortable in his skin.
Akihiro ordered a bottle of junmai daiginjo Akashi-Tai, poured it out into two choko cups, and raised his in a toast.
“Kanpai!”
“Kanpai!” Mariko drank deeply, anchoring herself to this moment in time, with the noise of laughter and conversation around her flowing as freely as the drink that had brought her life meaning.
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