A Record of a Glass | Episode 60: Abe Junmai Ginjo Hi-ire Silver (Kashiwazaki, Niigata)

Tracing the land through a single glass of sake.

Kashiwazaki, Niigata.
A town facing the Sea of Japan.

The winter is deep,
and the wind is cold.

The snowmelt is clear,
and it flows slowly,
maintaining a low temperature.


Abe Sake Brewery, which brews 'Abe',
does not pander.

It does not waver.

It simply
refines its sake.

It does not rush.
It does not press too hard.

It takes its time,
placing no unnecessary burden on the sake.

It does not polish too much.
It does not add too much.

It strips away artifice,
and does not cloud the contours.

Transparency
is not something found behind flashiness.

It lies beyond quiet precision.

Here, the sake
clarifies itself.

Now, to the main point.

The aroma is clear.
It is not overly flamboyant.

It has the quiet presence of fruit,
reminiscent of Japanese pear.

When taken into the mouth,
there is a slight effervescence.

On the tongue,
it gently unravels.

The sweetness is faint.
Yet, it is not thin.

Acidity with vitality
shapes the contours of the sake.

A calm transparency.

The finish
lingers faintly.

It does not drag on.
It simply remains, quietly.

A calm transparency.

I record this glass here
as a taste of that nature.