Greetings

Seasonal Sake: Natsu Ginjo

Kuramoto and Kurabito

Sake Basics

Did You Know?

Events

Sake Education Central

Greetings to all readers in the sweltering summer, 

'Nuff said about that. Except to add that the standard opening greeting in formal written Japanese for this season is "Shochu no mimai moshiagemasu,"  which actually means to express concern over someone, due to the heat. "Are you surviving this?" Like I said: 'nuff said.


Late summer in Japan means fireworks, festivals and quiet in the sake world. It brings cacaphonies of bug noises that people (including me) actually love to hear, punishing humidity that people (including me) somehow tolerate, and outdoor chores that few (including me) seem to get done. Ah, well.

While little takes place in the sake-brewing world, it is a perfect season to enjoy gently chilled, mildly fragrant sake. Don't listen to the beer people - they know not of what they speak. Read more about summer season sake below. 

Note, too, that the Sake Professional Course in Chicago took place with a disconcerting level of smoothness, thanks to massive support from all around. And the next Sake Professional Course is scheduled for October 24 to 26 in San Francisco. Read more about that below as well.

Enjoy the dwinding summer, and the newsletter as well,
John

PS: Don't forget that Sake's Hidden Stories and The Sake Notebook are both available for Kindle, Nook and the iPad! See details below.

Kuramoto and Kurabito
Owners and Brewers

At the risk of throwing around too many buzzwords…

The word “kuramoto” is a slightly vague term referring to the owner of a

sake brewery. It can also refer to the family that owns it; in other words, it does not necessarily refer to the president of the company per se, although it most often implies that. With very, very few exceptions, sake breweries are family run operations spanning several-to-many generations.

“Kurabito,” on the other hand, are the folks that do the actual brewing; in other words, the brewing staff. Their leader, the master brewer, is called the toji. So each kura (brewery) is owned by a kuramoto, and staffed by kurabito that is led by one toji.

Interestingly, the owners of the company are not the folks that actually make the sake; they just sell it. And just as interestingly, they do not really possess the skill or technology to make the sake themselves. That is left up to their skilled craftsmen employees. In truth, this whole system is changing fast, but it does remain more or less intact.

So while we might think the kuramoto has it easy, since all he has to do is schmooze and sell the good stuff, perish the thought. It is the kuramoto’s job to create an environment in which the kurabito can brew, and then stand out of their way, just as it is in turn the kurabito’s job to create an environment in which the sake can brew itself, and then stand out of its way.

At a meeting in “downtown” Tokyo that saw the representatives of each of the prefectures’ local sake-brewing cooperatives in attendance, I glided into a conversation with the president of the company making Hanagaki in Fukui Prefecture, Mr. Takayasu Nanbu. After accepting a small pour of his daiginjo, the harmless chat began with me asking him what was new at his kura, if anything.

“Oh, tons of little stuff. Not much of which has anything directly to do with sake, though. Not directly, that is. Just the typical hassle stuff that we kuramoto have to deal with. You know - safety, liability, peace within the kura walls - stuff like that.”


“Oh?” I inquired, cutting my response short, enticing him to elaborate. As I sipped the soft, round Hanagaki daiginjo, Nanbu-san continued.

“The sake itself, that’s out of my hands. I get them the best Fukui-grown Gohyakumangoku rice, and Hioki-san (the toji) takes it from there. What I have to do is stuff like making sure the kura is as safe to work in as possible, so that no one gets hurt. That, and just generally make sure bad luck has as little a chance to butt in as possible!

What does that entail?

“Aw, you know. Ladders, platforms, stairs, and stuff like that; all of it is

crucial for peering into fermenting tanks. But they need to be solid and safe, and that means maintenance and replacement. Like, all the time.

“Then, they want their toys. New equipment, new tools, new contraptions that I don't even understand. And some of it is expensive enough to extend my return on investment another millennium or so,” he jokingly lamented.

“And there’s more,” he continued. “I gotta keep the peace!” Sake brewing, especially at small and traditional kura like that making Hanagaki, is intense. You have the entire brewing staff working shoulder to shoulder 12 hours a day for six months. And while some go home at night, commonly the brewing staff live in the kura during that time as well.
 
“F’rinstance, from this coming season, I have given all the brewing personnel their own tiny room. It ain’t much, just enough room to sleep and rest, but it at least gives them a place of their own, and some semblance of privacy.”

Actually, very few of the 1300 remaining breweries these days has all the brewers living in the kura during the season. Usually one or two might, while the others commute from local homes, perhaps taking turns staying over. Modern gadgets let them set up systems that sends them a text message to their cell phone alerting them when a temperature gets out of range, for example. So today, they can often afford a more reasonable lifestyle. But at Hanagaki, they are still old school, and all of the five-strong brewing staff are kura-bound.


So maintaining the harmony is very important. Sake is alive, and is affected by bad vibes, or so say and feel those that make it. So a little step like giving the kurabito their own space can make the sake taste better.

I have heard more than one story of either the kuramoto or the toji needing to intervene to keep peace. Incessant snoring, a non-stop string of bad puns, and overall cluelessness are all examples of things toji or kuramoto have told me called for intervention to keep the harmony and save the sake.

So in the end, while the toji and kurabito often get the credit, the kuramoto too plays an important role in making great sake, albeit often in the background.

It is also important to emphasize how much the structure of the sake-brewing personnel world is changing. Back in “the day,” the kuramoto rarely set foot into the brewery itself. That was the domain of the toji and his merry men, who lived and brewed there four to six months of each year. But now, perhaps one-fourth of all the kura in the country no longer use toji from the traditional guilds, but rather brew themselves. “Owner-toji,” they are called, and while a rarity just a scant 25 years ago, they are increasingly common, if not necessary, in today’s environment.

And regardless of which social structure exists inside the kura, each and every person, from kuramoto to toji to kurabito, plays an irreplaceable role in creating great sake.

Sake Basics: What's This "Koji" Stuff? 
Psst! It's more than just "moldy rice"

If you spend much time around sake, or even just reading this

newsletter, you will soon come across the term koji. In fact, at times it seems like sake is all koji-this and koji-that. Which, in fact, is not too far from the truth.

Koji is steamed rice that has had a special mold (koji-kin, or Aspergillus Oryzae) propagated upon it. That mold gives off enzymes that convert starch in the rice into sugars that can be fermented by the yeast. Without koji there can be no sake. And while every single step of the brewing process is of paramount importance, koji making (i.e. just how the mold  is allowed to propagate onto the rice) may be the one step that holds the most sway over the nature of the final sake. 

But koji is not used by sake brewers alone. Koji is used in making many things, including shoyu (soy sauce), shochu (Japan's distilled beverage), and of course miso. Note too that koji for sake is always made from rice, whereas koji for shoyu, shochu and especially miso can be made from barley.