Manotsuru Hizo Koshu Daiginjo, 10 Years Old

Frankly, most sakes don’t age all that well, and the vast majority of sake is intended to be drunk within a year or so of release. There is a small category of sake, however, called koshu, that is truly ageworthy.

Sado Island boasts one of the most famous gold mines in the world (it ceased operation a couple of decades ago), and in a stroke of inspiration, a group of sake producers has appropriated one of its cool, underground tunnels for use as a cellar. It’s normally off-limits to visitors, but Mrs. Rumiko Obata took us down there for a little peek and generously treated us to a sip of her rare Manotsuru Hizo Koshu Daiginjo.

Aged for ten years, this shows unbelievably elegant aromas of white truffle, fresh porcini and bone marrow, with a graceful, subtly layered fragrance. On the palate it’s like a hit of pure umami, demonstrating a burnished, biscuity character that my friend Akiko compared to aged champagne, yet it doesn’t taste “old” at all, as the overall feel is one of vigor and vitality. Even at ten years of age this exhibits a classic Niigata character—clean, dry and light on its feet—and finishes with long, taut and complex flavor. I’ve tasted some excellent koshu before, but never anything quite like this.

Later that day, we tasted a younger version of this sake, brewed last year and tucked away in the cellar (it will also be released at ten years of age). Sake and wine often behave very differently, but in this aspect, this koshu showed exactly the same character that you might expect a young, ageworthy wine to possess, emphasizing structure over aroma and feeling closed, restrained and slightly constricted. It’s the first time I’ve ever had an opportunity to do a comparative tasting of koshu sake like that, and it’s an experience I won’t easily forget.

Onsen: Hot Springs, Fine Gastronomy and Massive Quantities of Sake

For lodging in Japan, you can’t beat staying at a traditional onsen, or hot springs resort. On the island of Sado I stayed at Hotel Azuma, an onsen with a spectacular location on the west coast overlooking the Sea of Japan. Life at Azuma is comfortable and serene, and the outstanding service and beautiful surroundings make you wish you never had to leave. I loved the impeccably appointed Japanese-style rooms, with their quiet, elegant simplicity.

The waters of Niigata are soft and invigorating, and there’s nothing like being able to take a dip in one of Azuma’s outdoor or indoor baths before sitting down to a dinner prepared by the hotel’s renowned chef. Our array of dishes was nothing short of magnificent, from a delicate yet decadent amuse-bouche of monkfish liver to a lively tempura of fukinoto, a deliciously bitter local mountain vegetable, to a miso soup prepared at the table with a cake of flying fish. I particularly enjoyed the fresh and vibrant sashimi here, presented in a dome of ice along with a gavel to crack into it with. We dined with Mrs. Rumiko Obata of the nearby Obata brewery, and her Manotsuru sakes provided the perfect foil to the sophisticated and elegant cuisine.

Today I’m at Izumiya, a resort up in the mountains of central Niigata. The change in climate is surprising: back on the beach it was sunny and mild, if not exactly warm; here the surrounding hillsides are covered in half a meter of snow. Izumiya exudes a feeling of hospitality, and even approaching it from the road at night, the warm glow of its lights appears soothing and inviting in the winter landscape. The service is impeccably first-rate and the atmosphere luxurious: if you want to pamper yourself, a weekend at Izumiya would be just the ticket.

The waters here are renowned for having a particular quality known as tsuru-tsuru, feeling slippery, almost soapy against your skin. This is actually a recent development—while Izumiya has long been famous for its hot springs and its hospitality, its waters are said to have improved even further in the aftermath of the large Niigata earthquake four years ago. Like Azuma, Izumiya is also highly regarded for its gastronomy, and dinner here was an absolute feast for the senses. Sashimi and ice made another appearance together, here an assortment including some of the best fish I have ever eaten in my life, housed dramatically in a bowl made of ice. The array of sakes presented to accompany the meal was a veritable who’s who of Niigata, including Kubota, Koshi no Kanbai, Shimeharitsuru, Kikusui and Yoshi no Gawa. I particularly liked the ultra-rare Manju Junmai Daiginjo by Kubota, with its finely silky texture and elegant notes of white pepper and spiced pear.


As I sat in the hot outdoor bath in the crisp, early morning air, enjoying the restorative waters amidst snow-covered landscapes, I felt a slight twinge of pain in the realization that no matter where I go tomorrow or what I do, my life will definitely be the poorer for not being here at Izumiya.

Niigata Prefecture

I spent a large portion of yesterday afternoon at the 2008 Sake No Jin, Niigata's annual sake festival. Niigata is the most famous sake-producing region in Japan, and hosts the largest festival: out of the prefecture's 97 kura, or breweries, 92 were in attendance this year, attracting upwards of 60,000 visitors to the two-day event.

The people of Niigata are also justifiably proud of their cuisine, and local delicacies include koshihikari table rice (considered the finest in Japan), a sweet winter strawberry called echigohime, wild salmon and nanban ebi, or northern red shrimp. Nanban means red chili pepper, and these shrimp derive their name from their bright red shells; their meat is sweet and succulent, with a silky texture. While I was plied with a vast array of incredibly delicious food today, nanban ebi certainly figured prominently. This photo is of a tremendously fragrant soup of miso and nanban ebi heads served during lunch at the renowned Sushi Marui restaurant; behind it, nanban ebi is included in an assortment of sashimi.


At a large dinner in the evening, more nanban ebi sashimi was upstaged by an even fresher option: live nanban ebi. I couldn't get a straight answer as to why the three shrimp in my bowl were only very gently twitching rather than jumping all over the place (general anesthesia? too much sake, like me?), but they made my task easier. The procedure for eating a live nanban ebi begins by twisting off the head: after that it's no more intimidating than peeling a shrimp normally. My first two passed complacently, but a third, a female full of salty-sweet roe, twitched a little as I decapitated her with my fingers. Caught up in the wanton slaughter of my food, I didn't remember to take a photo until this point, so this one is largely post-carnage.

Today it's off to Sado, a nearby island that is the home to several sake breweries, some hot springs, Charles Jenkins (an American soldier who defected to North Korea during the Korean War) and lots and lots of nanban ebi.