The sake industry is a rather peculiar corner of Japanese society. It is also an unusual manufacturing industry, as traditionally the actual manufacturing (i.e. brewing) business wasn’t actually done by the brewery owner or even by company employees, but by seasonally employed craftsmen brought to the brewery under the leadership of a master brewer (杜氏, tōji）.
The tōji and his crew would leave their families and their rice fields (they were almost all farmers, with occasional fishermen) after the rice harvest finished in autumn, and live in the brewery for the winter months of the brewing season.
Now the number of kura where the brewing is done entirely by members of the traditional guilds has declined considerably, but that is the world in which I learnt to make sake.
The closed world of traditional sake brewers was notoriously feudal, with its own rules, customs and even vocabulary. Long ago, sake breweries were completely off-limits to women, and it is perhaps that boys-only element which is responsible for some of the racier (or even, frankly, downright vulgar) expressions which sake brewers use. There are brewery expressions of charm and even beauty, but I’m afraid those I am going to introduce today are rather in the other, seedier group.
The action of yeast is a key element in making sake, and the Japanese system has a whole separate step dedicated to propagating yeast in a seed mash, called shubo (written with characters meaning sake mother) or moto (written with a sake-only character 酛, which has only recently become recognizable to Japanese word processing software).
In the days before the finished seed mash is used in the main mashing process, it is kept for several days at low temperatures. At this point, you can sometimes see a distinctive pattern of foam on the surface, like that in this picture.
What does it look like to you?
Here’s another picture.
Sometimes this pattern is compared to the delicacy shirako - a great food to go with sake, incidentally. It looks like it is made of something’s intestines, which is not in fact the case. It is actually the milt sac of cod (or if you go even more up market, blowfish). I’ll leave it to the fearless and inquisitive to find out what a milt sac is. Fabulous with sake, I promise.
More direct-minded brewers see this pattern in the foam as resembling cow’s intestines. At this point, I must admit that I don’t know why it is the bovine version (as opposed to pig or horse or something), but it always is. The third commonly occurring expression finds the foam to resemble the grey matter of the brain. Personally, I love shirako, so that expression has happy associations for me, but overall, I suppose this hasn’t been a very appetizing post. I will try and redress the balance at some point by introducing some of the more brewery expressions.
In the meantime, let me point out that although the terminology for those patterns in the foam may not be so attractive, these shapes are what you get at the last stage in a batch of seed mash that has gone very well. It may not look so good, but it is a sure sign of a vigorous fermentation to come, so we are always pleased to see these brains or intestines.
The tōji and his crew would leave their families and their rice fields (they were almost all farmers, with occasional fishermen) after the rice harvest finished in autumn, and live in the brewery for the winter months of the brewing season.
Now the number of kura where the brewing is done entirely by members of the traditional guilds has declined considerably, but that is the world in which I learnt to make sake.
The closed world of traditional sake brewers was notoriously feudal, with its own rules, customs and even vocabulary. Long ago, sake breweries were completely off-limits to women, and it is perhaps that boys-only element which is responsible for some of the racier (or even, frankly, downright vulgar) expressions which sake brewers use. There are brewery expressions of charm and even beauty, but I’m afraid those I am going to introduce today are rather in the other, seedier group.
The action of yeast is a key element in making sake, and the Japanese system has a whole separate step dedicated to propagating yeast in a seed mash, called shubo (written with characters meaning sake mother) or moto (written with a sake-only character 酛, which has only recently become recognizable to Japanese word processing software).
In the days before the finished seed mash is used in the main mashing process, it is kept for several days at low temperatures. At this point, you can sometimes see a distinctive pattern of foam on the surface, like that in this picture.
What does it look like to you?
Here’s another picture.
Sometimes this pattern is compared to the delicacy shirako - a great food to go with sake, incidentally. It looks like it is made of something’s intestines, which is not in fact the case. It is actually the milt sac of cod (or if you go even more up market, blowfish). I’ll leave it to the fearless and inquisitive to find out what a milt sac is. Fabulous with sake, I promise.
More direct-minded brewers see this pattern in the foam as resembling cow’s intestines. At this point, I must admit that I don’t know why it is the bovine version (as opposed to pig or horse or something), but it always is. The third commonly occurring expression finds the foam to resemble the grey matter of the brain. Personally, I love shirako, so that expression has happy associations for me, but overall, I suppose this hasn’t been a very appetizing post. I will try and redress the balance at some point by introducing some of the more brewery expressions.
In the meantime, let me point out that although the terminology for those patterns in the foam may not be so attractive, these shapes are what you get at the last stage in a batch of seed mash that has gone very well. It may not look so good, but it is a sure sign of a vigorous fermentation to come, so we are always pleased to see these brains or intestines.
