Category: International

By: Tod Stewart

The warm afternoon sun is making late-September feel like mid-August. I’m here at Dillon’s Distillery with one of its pre-bottled Manhattans in hand. Sure, the busy Queen Elizabeth Way highway – a stone’s throw away – is adding some traffic noise to the serenity of the whole experience, but I can live with it. I mean, I’d rather be near the highway with a drink than on it, given how traffic can turn this whole stretch of the Toronto-Niagara pipeline into vehicular sludge.

  Located in Beamsville, Ontario, about a half hour’s drive (depending on the aforementioned road conditions) from Niagara Falls, Pure Spirits Distilling Corporation – aka Dillon’s Distillery (established in 2012) – is one of Canada’s pioneering small batch distilleries. Founded by Geoff Dillon and his father, Peter (both of whom hold degrees in biochemistry), the distillery appears to follow a philosophy that is both focused and fun…and guided by a real passion for distilling.

  “I grew up with a father who was passionate about single malt scotch whiskies,” confesses Geoff Dillon. “When it was time for me to go to university, I decided to follow in his footsteps by studying biochemistry. During my studies I fell deeply in love with the art and science of distillation. Brewing and winemaking were one thing, but when it came to distilling, I discovered that the possibilities were endless.”

  Like many distillers in Canada, Dillon was intrigued by the concept of creating an authentic Canadian rye whisky (i.e., one actually made from rye). But by Canadian law, whisky needs to be aged a minimum of three years, so, as with many other distillers, Dillon kept the wheels on by diversifying its portfolio…and it would appear there’s nary a spirit he hasn’t taken a run at.

  “We’re big into the experimentation side of things, so there’s always new spirits going into bottles,” Dillon enthuses. And rather than operating in a self-contained bubble when it comes to measuring the success of this experimentation, Dillon relies on external input.

  “We have a program at Dillon’s called the ‘Sipping Society,’” Dillon explains. “Through this program we bring together a group of like-minded spirit connoisseurs who have a chance to trial some of our innovations before they hit the shelves.”

  Of course, being a small pioneering entity in a world inhabited by much bigger players introduced a number of challenges to overcome. These included dealing with not only punitive taxation rates (since they lightened somewhat in Ontario, but still not to the extent as in a few other provinces) but some rather odd rules that were in place at the time Dillon’s was getting underway.

  “You needed to have a larger-than-5,000-liter pot still to be allowed to open an onsite distillery retail store,” Dillon recalls. In Ontario, if we didn’t have that, we would have had only one channel to sell into.” Dillon’s team came up with a pretty clever workaround. Having a 5,000 liter still in addition to separate mash tanks would have been a prohibitively costly and space-hogging affair. So, in cooperation with the German company, Carl GmbH, the world’s first 8,000-liter hybrid mash tank/pot still was developed to save space and money while eliminating the need for separate components.

  However, distilling requires more than just equipment. It takes dedicated and knowledgeable staff.

  “Building a team who believed in the concept and vision was our priority,” Dillon recounts. “We are in this incredible area of Niagara, which is not just surrounded by wineries and breweries, but winemaking and brewing education programs. There is a local distillation program at the Niagara College, where we are able to pull some of the most knowledgeable people from the beer, wine and spirits industry. Once we had a foundation of strong and passionate people, we had to determine what we were going to make and how we would source the ingredients.” To that end, Dillon availed himself of local ingredients largely supplied by local farmers.

  “It has always been a priority for us to work with local farmers,” he reveals. “I feel very lucky we made Niagara our home. We are surrounded by our farming community that grows fresh ingredients for us so we can make the best and most unique spirits.”

  Besides developing a close bond with the farming community to source local ingredients, Dillon’s stays clear of any artificial flavors. “So, if it’s a year when yields are lower or something didn’t grow, it can limit our production,” Dillon admits, adding, “We can’t make peach schnapps unless we can get our hands on the right peaches.”

  When it comes to actual production, Dillon’s “keeps things simple.”

  Dillon reveals that every spirit “…is made from one of two bases: rye grain or grapes. We work with a handful of local grape-growers to grow enough wine grapes annually to make our Unfiltered Gin 22 and our grape-based vodka. This grape base gives a unique viscosity and mouthfeel to the spirits that only grapes can provide. Just about every other spirit we produce comes from rye grain, grown locally by our friends in Brant County, about an hour’s drive west of the distillery.”

  “For flavoured spirits like strawberry gin, we begin with our rye base then finish by macerating fresh, ripe strawberries grown by our neighbors across the street,” he said. “We do something similar for our other fruit spirits, like peach schnapps, cherry gin or even the walnut amaro.”

  The garden in front of the distillery that began life to supply the ingredients for Dillon’s absinthe has grown over the past decade and now supplies botanicals to a number of spirits, ranging from lavender to hot peppers.

  Even the barrels Dillon uses for maturation are unique. While some ex-bourbon barrels are used, other casks are made by a local cooper. “He makes them just for us,” Dillon reveals. “We pick the trees, and then they are made locally just up the road.”

  Besides small-batch distillates, Dillon’s crafts an ever-growing range of premixed cocktails with the assistance of, in Dillon’s words, “…some superstar bartenders that work exclusively for us. They help us make unique, delicious and proper cocktails.” There’s also a mind-boggling range of bitters, with flavors ranging from rhubarb to wormwood, fennel and ginger. “At Dillon’s, we are all about cocktails,” Dillon maintains. “Most cocktails have some form of bitters in them. From the very first day we opened our doors, we knew bitters needed to play a big component in what we are doing.”

  Definitely a man with a vision, Dillon has watched  the distilling landscape evolve around him, with his distillery being at the forefront of many positive changes. The evolution has been rapid over the decade that Dillon’s has been in business, to the point where Ontario has 45 such establishments, with that number continuing to grow. If you factor in “contract” or “virtual distillers,” that number swells to over 150. He also has plans to introduce a handful of new products to market, including melon gin, a seven-year-old single-cask rye, a cask strength rye and, as of this November, the return of a brandy made from local grapes. 

  Distillers and spirit aficionados south of the border might consider visiting their northern neighbor and drop into Dillon’s for a professionally made cocktail or a spirit sampling. I was fortunate enough to try the following:

  Dillon’s Niagara Peach Schnapps (Batch 4, 24% ABV):  Lighter, drier and more natural tasting than what you’d typically find, with subtle, fresh peach aromas, a clean, balanced palate and a long finish.

  Dillon’s Cherry (Batch 28, 35% ABV):  A gin base infused with local cherries, then lightly sweetened. A distinctly juniper-scented gin base isn’t overpowered by the additional aromas of sour cherry/black cherry. The slight bitterness of the fruit harmonizes well with the sweetness/spice of the base spirit. Try in a cherry G&T or a French martini.

  Dillon’s Single Grain “Three Oaks” Rye Whisky (Batch 20, 43% ABV):  Geoff Dillon’s dream was to create an authentic Canadian rye whisky, and he’s done so admirably here. Made from a mash bill of 100 percent Ontario rye and aged (as the name suggests) in a combination of new Ontario oak, new American oak and first-fill bourbon barrels, it shows classic, spicy/dusty rye on the nose, with a hint of dried citrus peel. Warm, round and balanced in the mouth, with layers of fruity/spicy rye, vanilla and caramel, it’s quite gentle while remaining elegant and complex.

  Nearby Niagara-on-the-Lake is a quaint little town that’s definitely worth visiting. In fact, stay for a few days for some winery/distillery/brewery visits, great food, interesting shopping options and beautiful scenery. I’d highly recommend making the 124 on Queen Hotel and Spa your base because it has great amenities and is close to everything – like Treadwell, a can’t-fail choice for local “farm-to-table” cuisine and an outstanding local/international wine selection. Although “authentic Italian” has come to mean many things, Ruffino’s Pasta Bar & Grill is definitely your place if you’re looking for the real deal. Formerly the acclaimed Stone Road Grille, it was reimagined (due to COVID, of course) as something a bit less formal, but every bit as enticing. It’s about a 15-minute walk from 124 on Queen (though the walk home might be a bit slower).

  Cheers, and I hope to see you up this way soon!

By: Tod Stewart

Just close your eyes…“You can see Faith, Hope and Charity as they bank above the fields….” – Al Stewart, “Flying Sorcery,” from the album “Year of the Cat.”

  Stewart was likely referencing the nickname of the three Gloster Gladiator fighter planes flown during the Siege of Malta in WWII in that line. From 10,000 or so feet, I was looking down at a different, though similarly named, trio as my Bell 407, flown by Alpine Helicopters Inc., banked languidly port-side. Referred to as the “Three Sisters” (Faith, Hope, and Charity – or Big Sister, Little Sister and Middle Sister, respectively), their peaks jut skywards as part of the South Banff Range of the Canadian Rockies.

  The breathtaking flight was just one of the many memorable activities arranged by my host, Alberta Distillers Ltd. (ADL), as part of the “Rye Ranch” experience. Over the course of four days, I was to get an intimate look at all facets of Canadian whisky production. I would also have the honor of being one of the first “civilians” (i.e., not a member of the Bean Suntory, ADL’s parent company team) to taste ADL’s latest rye whisky expression. Both of these would go a long way in helping answer the question: what makes Canadian whisky unique?

  Founded in 1946, ADL has risen to become perhaps the most respected and significant distiller of rye whisky on the planet today. In fact, its Alberta Premium expression is the top-selling rye whisky in the world. Davin De Kergommeaux (DDK), who, as I mentioned in my previous Beverage Master Magazine story, literally wrote the book on Canadian whisky, doesn’t mince words. “I think ADL is my #1 Canadian distillery right now for quality whisky and straight-shooting staff. [It’s] the best rye distillery in the world, and they make so much else besides.”

  Seeing as how I had DDK on the line, I thought this might be as good an opportunity as any to get an expert’s opinion on what, precisely, makes whisky from Canada unique.

  “The key to making great Canadian whisky is blending many components to make a whisky with consistent flavor from batch to batch,” he began. “Each component is made to emphasize specific qualities which blenders then integrate batch by batch. The amount of each component used can be adjusted as needed for each new batch, to even out any differences in the grain from different growing seasons, and any differences among barrels.”

More about barrels in a bit. Carry on DDK….

  “Making individual components also allows distillers to tailor maturation to the specific distillate – charred oak for corn, toasted for rye, for example. Spirits aged in a variety of barrels and for different lengths of time give noticeably different whiskies and blenders are able to use just the right amount of each in the final blend so they get exactly the flavor profile and texture they are looking for.”

  He simplifies the concept this way: “American whisky-makers blend the grains together in mash bills, while Canadian whisky makers blend them as mature spirits. Each has its advantages, and each gives the resulting whisky its own personality, so one approach is not better than the other, just different.”

  While at the Rye Ranch (and before a truly superb dinner prepared by Chef Corinna Murray from Personal Thyme), I managed to corner George Teichroeb, ADL’s general manager, into one of those unprepared for, unscripted and (likely for him), totally annoying one-on-ones to pepper him with similar questions. Dressed in my awesome boots and Stetson from Lammle’s Western Wear (if you wanna look like cow-poke, this is the place), I brashly asked questions like, “Did I hear you say earlier in the day that making bourbon is easy, but making Canadian rye whisky is more challenging?” (Teichroeb has spent time in Kentucky – at distilleries, not in prisons, as far as I know –  so, he’s up on the ins and outs of both whisky styles.)

Beverage Master Magazine: Did I hear you say earlier in the day that making bourbon is easy, but making Canadian rye whisky is more challenging?

George Teichroeb: Well, to be clear, I didn’t say making bourbon was necessarily easy.

BM: Okay, fine. It was a bit loud on the distillery floor. But you said something along those lines, right?

GT: What I said was that with bourbon, there are guidelines set out for its production that remove some of the complexities of the process that we, as Canadian whisky producers, face.

  We can use continuous distillation, batch column distillation or kettle, and we can determine how much of each style make up the final blend with a fair amount of flexibility. If we were making bourbon, we would be much more regulated. With Canadian whisky, the distiller can decide which spirit and at what strength can go into a specific type of barrel. At ADL, we use ex-bourbon, new Canadian and multi-use barrels – and we have the advantage of deciding which option to choose.

BM: It would seem that Canadian whisky is “a thing” again. Why, from your point of view, is this happening?

GT: I read an article about three years ago that said from 2009 to 2019, there was a 230 percent increase in global distillers’ use of rye grain in their whiskies. Consumers and distillers have started to understand that the use of rye creates a flavor profile that is very unique, and this has led to a refocusing on the country that’s been a pioneer in rye distillation—namely, Canada.

BM: So, it really is a ryevolution!

GT: [Deadpan glance].

BM: Um, sorry. What, then, from your perspective, sets Canadian whisky apart from all others?

GT: I think there are certain historical standards that play a large part. Canadian whisky has to be matured for at least three years. It has to be aged in wood and on Canadian soil, but these are requirements that are similar to those of other countries. It’s in the blending process where Canadian whisky makers’ expertise comes to the forefront, and consumers are really starting to understand the value of skillful blending.

BM: Anything about the Canadian whisky industry you’d like to see changed?

GT: You shouldn’t be able to call a whisky “rye” if there isn’t, in fact, any rye in the blend! [In my previous Beverage Master piece, I mentioned the somewhat strange situation that distinguishes “rye whisky” as a category rather than a reflection of what is distilled.]

BM: Where do you see ADL, and the Canadian whisky industry in general, heading into the future?

GT: It’s been great that ADL has always been seen as a pioneer rye distiller, but this doesn’t mean we won’t continue to try new things in the future. We will continue to consistently use prairie rye as a main whisky ingredient, and I think this association with specific, regionally-grown grains will take hold in other Canadian distilleries. You might see different strains of corn being used in the eastern Canadian provinces. The prairies will likely remain heavy on wheat, which is a great base for vodkas.

  While touring ADL’s barrel warehouses a few days back, I noticed another unique feature of many Canadian distilleries: the use of pallets rather than racks for barrel maturation. While this is common in the majority of Canadian whisky distilleries and significantly improves efficiency, the verdict is out on whether it has any negative effects on the aging of whisky. To play it safe, ADL incorporates both rack and pallet warehouses. Racking barrels increases airflow around them and gives the liquid greater exposure to the barrel heads, both of which have a beneficial impact on development.

  Other features that are unique to ADL’s whiskies are the use of predominantly unmalted rye and (because of this) the reliance on in-house reactors that yield one of the two types of enzymes that make up the “enzyme cocktail” used to convert rye starch to glucose.

  One aspect that’s unique to all Canadian whiskies, and the one that stirs up the most consternation, is the “controversial” 9.09 regulation, which, in reality, is much ado about nothing. I won’t go into a long dissertation on how this regulation came about (there has been plenty written about it), but the upshot is that a Canadian whisky distiller is permitted to add up to ten percent of another liquid to every 100 liters of mature whisky. So, for example, ten liters added to 100 liters brings the total volume to 110 liters, and ten percent of that volume works out to one-eleventh or 9.09 percent). This “other liquid” is typically un-aged whisky or wine.

  While purists like to rant about this, think of how much “non-scotch” winds up in Scottish whiskey finished in casks that once held sherry, port or Madeira. Teichroeb sees this regulation as beneficial in that it adds a degree of flexibility to the generally ridged requirements whisky makers are governed by. And it allows blenders to introduce subtle flavoring elements to a final blend, the result of which I was about to taste.

  As the sun dipped low behind the majestic Rockies in the distance, and as the embers of the campfire contributed to the glow of our already-somewhat glowing group, Teichroeb poured us drams of ADL’s latest whisky: Reifel Rye. Named in honor of the distilling family that helped establish ADL, it is a 100 percent Canadian rye whisky showing distinctive, dusty/spicy rye on the nose, with subtle hints of vanilla custard and dried fruit. Smooth, warm, mildly fruity/spicy and beautifully balanced, it was the perfect nightcap to wrap up with what had been a pretty much perfect stay in Canadian whisky country.

By: Tod Stewart

Quiz for distillers: Legally speaking, what percentage of rye grain needs to go into the mash bill of a Canadian “rye” whisky? C’mon, don’t be shy…take a guess? If you are a distiller of rye whisky in the United States, at least 51 percent of your bill better be rye. So, in Canada, where “rye whisky” is the whisky, it’s gotta be at least that, right? Probably way more. Like, even 100 percent. Right? The answer is: None. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Bupkis.

  A Canadian whisky can call itself “rye” without having even passed close to the rye fields of western Canada. This likely drives many Canadian whisky aficionados (not to mention craft whisky distillers) bonkers. As it should. It’s akin to discovering your tuna sub sandwich actually contains very little – if any – tuna. (Sorry, have you heard this already?) “So what,” you ask, “is the deal?”

  Well, the deal is a rather simple one. Canadian whisky was originally largely wheat-based. At some point (possibly a couple of hundred years ago), it was discovered that rye had more to offer in terms of character and flavor, and gradually more and more rye found its way into the mash mix. Although the amount of rye rarely exceeded about 10 percent (if that), even small amounts yielded a tastier spirit. Even as the shift from wheat as the main grain moved to corn, the term “rye whisky” became synonymous with “Canadian whisky.” This is why you can, legally, have a Canadian rye whisky made from 100 percent corn. To an extent, “rye whisky” has come to denote more of a category than an accurate reflection of pedigree.

  The fact that there isn’t more consternation over this situation reflects the “if it ain’t broke, don’t bother fixing it” attitude that may have, at some point, permeated the Canadian whisky industry.

  This is indeed a bizarre situation, but in a way, it’s not surprising. The Canadian whisky industry – for the past who-knows-how-long – had chugged along more or less under the radar of whisky drinkers around the world. This isn’t to say Canadian whisky hasn’t always been popular domestically and internationally. There are legions of stories (some probably accurate) of the flourishing underground (or in some cases, underwater) whisky trade between Canada and the Prohibition-era United States, a trade that hasn’t really ebbed since things became legal. According to the Distillers Council of the US, some 18.69 million nine-liter cases worth around $2.2 billion went south in 2020. Canada also exports its whisky to over 160 countries globally. Yet, like all things Canadian in general, Canadian whisky distillers kept a low profile and seemed content to maintain the status quo. There were, of course, a few exceptions.

  About 20 years ago (give or take), Corby distillery (one of the “big boys” of the Canadian distillery scene) launched a trio of innovative whiskies under the Canadian Whisky Guild banner. These included Gooderham & Worts, Pike Creek and Lot 40. They were beautifully packaged, connoisseur-level ryes. And they turned out to be spectacular flops. This had nothing to do with the quality of the products and everything to do with consumers who just weren’t willing to take a chance on what could only be seen as radical new products. All three disappeared from provincial liquor board shelves shortly after being placed there. Fast-forward a couple of decades, and Lot 40 is now consistently available and consistently held in high esteem by whisky experts. Why did this shift happen?

  In hopes of getting an answer, I tracked down Davin De Kergommeaux (not always an easy task). De Kergommeaux is – among other things – the author of a few books, one being Canadian Whisky: The New Portable Expert (first and second editions) and generally regarded as the authority on Canadian whisky. He sees it as a spinoff of the renewed interest in brown spirits (don’t ask where that interest came from; maybe the blandness of vodka was starting to bore people).

  “As connoisseurs got to know scotch and bourbon, they began to look elsewhere for new experiences,” De Kergommeaux maintains. “Japan was first off the mark with really great whiskies, and now India, Taiwan and others have followed. As connoisseurs began to discover Canadian whisky, the Canadian distillers leaped in with both feet, turning out one new high-end whisky after another. [Canada is now] a new treasure trove for the refined palate.”

  “We also have to acknowledge the Forty Creek factor. John K. Hall and his Forty Creek whiskies have become known around the world for their consistently high quality. In just a decade, Hall [became] the face of Canadian whisky worldwide, and connoisseurs globally now devise the most ingenious means to get bottles of his whisky. They also began to wonder, ‘If Forty Creek is so great, is there more where this came from?’ and I can only respond, ‘Yes, most certainly.’”

  Forty Creek Distillery is but one of the many micro- to mid-sized distilleries that have sprung up across Canada since the early 1990s. Today there are some 300 craft operations scattered among the provinces and territories. And while this has certainly expanded the variety of Canadian whiskies being produced, finding them is a bit of an issue.

  Most micro-distilleries have micro-outputs (relatively speaking). Also, the amount of excise levied on Canadian distillers by the federal government (or, in the words of Spirits Canada – essentially an industry lobby group – the “antiquated and jobs killing alcohol excise duty structure”) makes for a less-than-level playing field when it comes to competing with imported spirits. In terms of Canadian whisky, the “big eight” distillers account for the bulk (95 percent or so) of total production.

  That being said, the consumer and critical accolades bestowed on some of Canada’s smaller distillers have certainly proved to the larger players that resting on their laurels is not a particularly effective growth strategy. In a short period of time, a few of Canada’s biggest whisky names have released some truly exceptional drams.

  A few years back, the venerable Crown Royal brand released the Crown Royal Northern Harvest

Rye. It created something of a sensation when Jim Murray awarded its Jim Murray’s World Whisky of the Year 2016. Upon its release, I saw a sight I’d never seen before (and likely won’t ever again): average Canadian consumers walking out of provincial liquor stores with full cases of Canadian whisky. Trucks with shipments destined for south-of-the-border sales were diverted back home in an attempt to keep up with domestic demand. The same expression took home Murray’s Canadian Whisky of the Year for 2016, 2017 and 2018.

“I’m surprised not to hear more about Canadian Club because they also have some wonderful whiskies,” says De Kergommeaux, referencing another iconic Canadian brand. “The Chronicles range, of course, and also the 100 percent rye, which is the fruitiest all-rye whisky I have tasted anywhere.” (The Chronicles range he refers to are exceptionally mature – 41, 42, 43 and 44-year-old, limited-release expressions that are largely corn-based. I’ve had the pleasure of tasting every release and can attest to their astonishing complexity.)

  Calgary-based Alberta Distillers Limited is another “big gun” that has made some unique inroads over the course of its history. It specializes (and always has) in 100 percent rye whiskies, fermented using proprietary house-cultivated enzymes and distilled in Canada’s largest pot still. Its flagship Alberta Premium brand has always been the flag-bearer for 100 percent Canadian rye. More recently, the brand’s limited age-dated expressions (20, 25, 30, and 40-year-old) and cask strength releases have taken rye whisky to a new level.

  Though I haven’t tried a huge range of Canadian micro-distilled whiskies, I can say that the ones I have – including those from Okanagan Spirits in British Columbia, Kinsip, Dillons and the aforementioned Forty Creek in Ontario – have been first-rate. The Glenora Distillery on the east coast (perhaps the original Canadian micro-distillery) breaks with Canadian tradition, crafting its whiskies from malted barley. The result is a sort of unique Canadian/Scottish hybrid, which may sound a bit odd…until you try, say, its Glen Breton Rare 19-Year-Old.

  Fantastic stuff. (Okanagan Spirits also produces a single malt under its Laird of Fintry label – definitely worth checking out if you can find it.)

  What I’ve talked about here over the past 1,400 or so words barely speaks to the exciting new developments emerging on the Canadian whisky scene. When I asked De Kergommeaux what new projects in the industry particularly caught his attention, he provided me with a list long enough to cause me severe word count overage if I were to print it. Suffice to say, if the Canadian whisky sector has been a bit of a sleeping giant for the past little while, it is now wide awake…and hungrily looking to expand its reach. Stay tuned for more on Canadian whisky – and Canadian distillers in general – in upcoming editions of Beverage Master Magazine.

By: Tod Stewart

It’s “rice wine.” You serve it hot. It comes from Japan. And it only really pairs well with Japanese dishes like sushi and sashimi. Well, no, no, not necessarily, and no. If there’s a misunderstood libation in the world of alcohol, sake is surely it. However, once you dispense with the myths and misconceptions – and once you treat yourself to some higher-end examples served properly – you’ll likely find sake to be one of the most enjoyable and versatile tipples out there.

  So, first things first: if sake isn’t “rice wine,” what exactly is it? Yes, it’s made from rice, but technically speaking, sake is closer to beer because it’s not fruit-based, and its production process sees starch con-verted to sugar prior to fermentation. (In comparison, wine fermentation involves the production of al-cohol via the fermentation of naturally occurring sugar found in grapes).

  If you’re super keen to learn about sake production, you might want to read all 230 pages of The Text-book of Sake Brewing. Admittedly, it’s not exactly a riveting read, but it is thorough if nothing else. One part of the book I found particularly interesting was the glossary of sake brewing nomenclature. Here, I learned the meaning of such terms as shinseki, hikikomi, tsubodai, dakidaru and bōshitsu. The latter was particularly interesting. Bōshitsu: Accidental disappearance of finished sake. Translated to English: theft.

  Book not for you? Okay, the condensed version goes something like this:

  Sake’s main ingredients are rice, water, yeast and a curious ingredient called kōji. Sake rice (shuzō kōtekimai) differs from table rice in that the grains are typically larger and contain less protein. It is pos-sible to make sake using table rice. Still, for premium sake, true sake rice – you’ll hear names like Yam-adanishiki, Gohyakumangoku, Miyamanishiki and Omachi thrown around by sake geeks – is de rigueur. The reason is that the rice, at the start of the production cycle, is first polished to remove fats and pro-teins and expose the starch core. Smaller, more brittle table rice grains contain less starch and tend to break apart during the polishing process.

  The degree of polishing has an impact on the “quality” – and price – of the final liquid. The polishing ratio (seimaibuai) refers to the percentage of the grain that remains after polishing (60% seimaibuai means 40% of the rice grain has been milled away). I put the word quality in quotations because I’m un-sure whether the word should be quality or character. Yes, the more the rice is polished, the more subtle and refined the sake’s flavor tends to be. And since there’s physically less rice to ferment, the reduction in quantity leads to an increase in price, which, rightly or wrongly, is typically indicative of higher quali-ty. But in my experience, the result of varying polish levels comes down more to stylistic variation than a case of one being “better” than the other. This brings us to the question of how you, as a consumer, can tell the difference between moderate and high-polish sake. Welcome to the wonderful world of sake classification.

  Within the premium sake (tokutei meisho-shu) realm, there are several “tiers” that correspond to the polish level of the rice used. The highest is daiginjo, with a polish ratio of 50% (or less). This is fol-lowed by ginjo (60% or less polish), honjozo (70% or less) and finally, junmai (polish level not stipulat-ed). So far, so understandable. Where things get a bit dicey is when you see something like junmai-daiginjo. Is this some sort of combination that blends ultra-high polish rice with relatively low polish rice? Though that would make sense in a weird sort of way, when you see “junmai” stuck in front of ei-ther daiginjo or ginjo, it indicates that no additional alcohol has been added. Daiginjo and ginjo, with no qualifier, denote sakes that have a small amount of distilled alcohol added to them.

  Got it? Good. But we’re not done yet. Enter tokubetsu. Tokubetsu indicates that some “special” element has been used during production. The nature of these elements is exactly why Google was invented.

  Now, having a superior rice strain milled to the ideal ratio is still nothing but a pile of – albeit special – rice. As noted earlier, you’ll need water, yeast, and kōji to turn that polished pile into something drinka-ble. Before you can do anything with the rice, though, it needs to be steamed.

  A few years back, I was fortunate to be a guest of the Japan Sake and Schochu Makers Association on a sake tour of (mostly) Hiroshima. On this winter excursion, I was able to see first-hand how all the com-ponents of sake come together.

  I began my days watching clouds of vapor billow out of rice steamers. Steaming typically takes place early in the morning, when most nocturnally-inclined writers are still half-dead. Nonetheless, I bravely hauled myself out of bed to board the bus, don slippery slippers (shoe-wearing being forbidden on brew-ery floors) and observe the rice-steaming ritual. After the rice is washed and soaked to wash away rice dust, it’s steamed to soften the grains, preparing them for the infusion of kōji and ensuring they break up during fermentation. The aim is to get them firm on the outside, soft on the inside.

  When it comes to water used in sake production, there is a distinct difference between the impact of hard and soft water. Hard water has historically been the preference of sake brewers, but soft water is what you typically find in the Hiroshima Prefecture. This area has some of Japan’s most premium sake today, but this wasn’t always the case. About 120 years ago, the water in the region lacked the minerals neces-sary to nourish fermentation. This led to a lackluster brewing reputation that changed when a brewer named Senzaburo Miura, from the village of Akitsu, mastered soft water brewing. He also created a new (at the time) style of sake – ginjo. As the sake produced here started to consistently take home top awards from the Zenkoku Shinshu Kampyou-kai, Japan’s most prestigious sake competition, it focused national attention on the area.

  Yeast and kōji work as a tag team to turn polished, steamed rice and hard or soft water into finished sake. For a sake brewer, a toji, the decision of which yeast strain to use is a very big deal in that it impacts the end product’s aroma, texture, acidity and alcohol concentration. After several hours in a highly technical lecture on sake yeast, I became aware of two things: I have no real interest in learning anything more about yeast, and there are many, many yeast strains from which a brewer has to decide.

  Getting the rice to a state where the impact of yeast actually amounts to something requires the rice to be inoculated with kōji. Kōji is a mold cultivated – or sometimes purchased – by sake brewers. When in-troduced to steamed rice, it initiates the saccharification process. Kōji converts rice starch into sugar that can, in turn, be converted by yeast into alcohol (in much the same way qu acts in the baijiu-making pro-cess).

  If I learned anything from my Japan sake tour, it was this: making premium sake is a very labor-intensive activity, even if modern technology is employed to assist, which is rarely the case with smaller, family-run breweries.

  As fascinating as crafting sake can be, drinking it is much more fun. Of course, these days, trying to find authentic Japanese sake is a bit of a problem due to: supply chain issues, transportation issues, fuel cost issues, COVID, Putin, etcetera, etcetera. The good news is that sake production isn’t confined to Japan. There’s plenty of top-notch sake being created in the United States – Oregon and California in particular. There is even a very respectable sake brewery in downtown Toronto. But if you’re a brewer looking to fill a niche, sake might be something to consider as we’ll likely be depending on local suppliers for a little while yet.

  Assuming you can procure some quality sake from somewhere, enjoying it is basically as simple as get-ting it into your mouth. However, as with many things, a few things can up the pleasure level a bit.

  While you don’t need any particularly fancy glassware, there’s now a Riedel junmai glass available, but a standard ISO wine glass works fine. In any case, serving temperature is probably the most important – and misunderstood – factor when it comes to fully appreciating sake. The most delicate and arguably, complex styles – daiginjo, ginjo, and the like – are best served chilled. More robust types – honjozo, for example – can be served anywhere between fairly chilled and fairly warm. Never hot.

  It’s interesting to see how the character can change based on serving temperature. I remember being at a sake dinner (back in the “before time”) where the sake samurai (yes, there is such a thing) served the same sake chilled with sashimi and warm with pork belly. In both cases, the match worked beautifully. Try doing that with a lager beer. (Sure, a chilled lager with sashimi would work fine; a warm lager with pork—or anything—not so much).

  Which brings me to sake and food. Yes, it pairs perfectly with what we might consider “typical” Japa-nese food. But as with all countries, Japanese food varies considerably depending on which part of the country you are in. So do the sakes from each region. But don’t stop with Japanese food. Sake and cheese can yield some surprising combinations. So can sake with chocolate, sake with nuts, sake with fruit, sake with fried foods….

  So, if you’re looking to expand your knowledge and enjoyment of Japan’s national drink, say kampai to a glass of premium sake…at the proper temperature, of course.