‘Iyashikei is a rice brew, but it tastes like fino sherry. Omiji kijoshu is a rice brew, but it tastes like oloroso sherry. Ineburimaru is a rice brew, but it tastes like stout. If you thought sake was
supposed to be fragile and floral, you need to visit Sake Bar Yoramu. ‘‘An aged wine still tastes like it’s from the same category, but that’s not true of sake,’’ says owner Yoram Ofer. But then
nobody ever aged a wine like he ages sake. Ofer leaves namazake, the unpasteurized stuff they tell you to refrigerate, sitting on his doorstep for years. ‘‘If you keep it one summer out of
the fridge, nobody will know you did it,’’ he says. ‘‘It’ll be the same sake but with
more umami. Some go wrong, but then you just close it and put it back for
another year.’’ The results can be wild, but an evening here makes every other
kind of alcohol seem horribly limited. It’s sake, folks, but not as you know it.’
Kyoto’s bars
The Japan Times
23 April, 2010
‘Iyashikei is a rice brew, but it tastes like fino sherry. Omiji kijoshu is a rice brew, but it tastes like oloroso sherry. Ineburimaru is a rice brew, but it tastes like stout. If you thought sake was
supposed to be fragile and floral, you need to visit Sake Bar Yoramu. ‘‘An aged wine still tastes like it’s from the same category, but that’s not true of sake,’’ says owner Yoram Ofer. But then
nobody ever aged a wine like he ages sake. Ofer leaves namazake, the unpasteurized stuff they tell you to refrigerate, sitting on his doorstep for years. ‘‘If you keep it one summer out of
the fridge, nobody will know you did it,’’ he says. ‘‘It’ll be the same sake but with
more umami. Some go wrong, but then you just close it and put it back for
another year.’’ The results can be wild, but an evening here makes every other
kind of alcohol seem horribly limited. It’s sake, folks, but not as you know it.’