Aramasa
Aramasa Shuzo, Akita
Within a single dish there are ingredients, dashi, salt, aroma, temperature, the way heat has been applied, and the finish that remains after eating.
Nor is drink chosen by label or reputation. I consider how the character of the ingredient appears when the two are tasted together.
If the drink comes too far forward, the food becomes hard to see. If it bends too far toward the food, it loses what it holds.
Rather than erasing either, I look for the place where the outlines of food and drink meet naturally.
Sake, too, is not chosen through words like sweet or dry.
Rice, water, koji, brewing, maturation, temperature — each difference changes aroma, umami, texture, and finish.
How does it receive the lingering finish of dashi? How does it hold up the aroma of a fish or a vegetable? I look at how that one cup works when it meets the food.
Sometimes chilled is right. Sometimes room temperature or warming deepens the connection to the dish. Rather than forcing a fixed form, I look at the condition of the food and the sake that day and bring them into line.
I do not want to leave behind the impression of the sake alone. I want to leave behind the time in which food and sake were tasted together. That is the cup I look for.
Seasonal releases from the breweries below. This is part of the current selection.
Aramasa Shuzo, Akita
Isojiman Shuzo, Shizuoka
Takagi Shuzo, Yamagata
Nishida Shuzoten, Aomori
Sanyohai Shuzo, Hyogo
Aoi Shuzo, Niigata
Even from the same grape, a wine's expression changes with the land, the maker, the year it was harvested, the time it has spent maturing.
Acidity, fruit, aroma, temperature, and layered time. Looking at each of these, I choose the bottle that suits the dashi, the fish, the vegetables, the scent of charcoal, and the shape of that day's meal.
Not chosen because the name is known, but because there is a reason to drink it with that day's food.
Rather than fitting a wine to the cooking, I look at both and consider the balance the day requires.