A Record of a Glass | Episode 101: Hakudakusen Junmai Ginjo Nama Sakuranezu (Fukui, Togo)

Tracing the land through a single glass of sake.

In the silence of the night,
a pale color dissolves.

Is it cherry blossom, or is it mouse-gray?
The boundary between them is forever ambiguous.

Beyond the point of abandoning assertion,
a certain presence emerges.

Fukui, Togo.
The clear underflow of the Ichijodani River,
which once nourished the kitchens of Fukui Castle town.

Deep within the crystal-clear water,
a color yet to be named lies hidden.

Yasumoto Sake Brewery, Hakudakusen.
The name 'Sakuranezu' (cherry-mouse gray)
is a gentle scooping up of that faint presence.

It does not bloom.
It does not sink.

It simply,
quietly, stands there.

Now, to the main point.

The aroma is faint.
Before you know it, it is touching your skin.

Take a sip.

The acidity draws a line.
Without hesitation, it defines a refined contour.

The umami traces the inside of that line.
It gently fills the void.

Superfluous words are stripped away.
The noise fades into the distance.

What remains is the structure.
The soil of Togo and polished water.

They rise up just as they are.

It is light.
Yet, it is not fleeting.

It flows.
Yet, it does not collapse.

Eventually,
light and shadow dissolve into a pale hue.

Deep in the throat,
leaving only a fresh, lingering finish.

The things you were carrying,
you gently set down.

Your gaze becomes clear.
It is fine to start again from here.

—— Bleeding through.

This glass,
quietly dyes the next story.
I record it here as such a glass.