Serving shochu
Now that we’ve gone through all the basics, it’s time to sit down and get serious. If you don’t already have a bottle of honkaku shochu in the house, go get one. If you happen to live or be in a part of the world that doesn’t have a ready supply (admittedly, unless you’re in a major city, you may be out of luck), then either make a phone call or plan a visit to your local bottle shop. They need to be made aware that they can profit from selling shochu.
Let’s think about all the different ways that shochu can be enjoyed. There aren’t many other drinks on the planet that have a comparable amount of flexibility in terms of how they are commonly consumed. The time of year, region, variety of shochu and accompanying cuisine can all have an influence on how it is served. By and large, of course, the best way to serve it will come down to the simple question of personal taste.
For obvious reasons, the fastest way to prepare a glass of shochu is to serve it neat. A couple of shots should do. Most shochu weigh in at about 25% ABV, so it won’t go to your head quite as quickly as a single malt whiskey, but as always moderate consumption is advised—don’t go filling your coffee tumbler to the brim with shochu.
It’s also worth experimenting with chilling the bottle that you plan to drink. This is, of course, not done in an effort to make the contents keep longer. Shochu is a distilled beverage and will not sour or spoil after opening if stored properly. The merits of refrigeration are to avoid diluting the drink with ice and to see how the spices, sweetness, and earthy notes reveal themselves as the drinking vessel is gradually warmed by your hand. Higher ABV shochu, such as hanatare, are sometimes stored in the freezer and then enjoyed ice cold. In fact, one of the most memorable and delicious culinary experiences I’ve had occurred while visiting distilleries in Miyazaki Prefecture. The host of the dinner advised us to pour a puddle of icy hanatare into the half-shell raw oysters in front of us, and it was divine! Go ahead and pop that bottle in the freezer right next to the Bombay Sapphire. You can thank me later.
Another delightful way to experience shochu is to drink it on the rocks. Just add ice cubes to a Collins glass or small tumbler, pour your shochu of choice over the top, and sip slowly. There are many bartenders in Tokyo and elsewhere who claim that the size and shape of the cubes used can affect the taste of the drink. These are generally the same places that plop ice balls or large bergs in their drinks. The best argument in favor of this serving style is that larger chunks of ice melt more slowly than cubes. Naturally, this means that your drink will become watered down less quickly and retain something similar to its first sip flavor longer. I’m not aware of a freezer equipped with an automatic ice ball maker, so if this is something you’d like to try with your shochu, then you’ll need to either pick up some silicone ice ball molds or become handy with an ice pick. Regular ice cubes work just fine for me, especially since freezer space is limited in my household, and I’ve never been accused of being a slow consumer of shochu. Whichever way you decide to go, I advise making ice with bottled or mineral water. This is especially necessary if you live in an urban setting and are dependent on the city’s hyper-treated water supply.
Shochu is often cut with water and this serving style is called mizuwari in Japanese. This can be a good way to dilute the alcohol in the shochu or even to mute the stronger flavors that might overpower the taste buds if consumed straight. Pour the shochu first, and then slowly add mineral water. If poured smoothly, you shouldn’t need to mix it because the liquids will mingle automatically. The ratio of shochu to water can vary according to a variety of factors. If we look to the prefectures of shochu’s origin for guidance, a plethora of drinking preferences are evident. In Oita Prefecture, for example, barley shochu is commonly mixed 3:7 (shochu to water). This is very different from the somewhat standard ratio of roku yon (6:4) and too weak for my personal tastes, but in all fairness I’m pretty sure that they are counting the ice cubes in the seven parts of prescribed water. You may find that mizuwari shochu is served with ice in many places, but I recommend ditching the cubes when serving drinks at home. Rather than watering your shochu down further with melting ice, why not just chill the bottle and water in the fridge for a few hours? If you really like the idea of rocks in your drink, then it is perhaps better to add less water and more shochu. After all, shochu on the rocks eventually becomes mizuwari if you take your time enjoying it.
By the way, a quick word on the ratios commonly used for water-cut shochu in Japan. You may be wondering why it is 6:4 and not 3:2. There are several reasons that I can think of, the least of which is the fact that it allows easily calculable precision when ordering drinks. Both sides of the ratio should always add up to 10. It’s a little bit easier to negotiate the constituents of a drink broken into tenths than to bounce back and forth between thirds, quarters, and fifths. This is especially true when introducing a friend to shochu, and you’d like to order a weaker potato shochu mizuwari for the first round. Another nice thing about breaking a drink down this way is that it’s also relatively easy to calculate the alcohol content. A 25% ABV shochu that is cut 9:1 with water will logically experience a 2.5% reduction in alcohol content. Therefore, a 6:4 mizuwari has an alcohol content similar to that of nihonshu at 15%, and a 5:5 is in wine territory at 12.5%.
When drinking awamori, which is generally higher in ABV than its shochu cousin, mizuwari is recommended and is indeed the most common drinking style in Okinawa. The awamori to water ratio is largely up to you, but I recommend the roku yon formula mentioned above, especially if you’re new to awamori. Feel free to change the quantities to your own liking though. Every shochu and awamori will deserve its own specific treatment—my only advice is that you don’t absolutely drown the drink with water as it’ll dull what makes it unique and enjoyable.
One of the most popular ways to drink shochu when the mercury drops is with hot water, or oyuwari. Hot water can help let the bouquet of aromas from the shochu waft into the air for you to get a better whiff. Just like preparing a glass of shochu mizuwari, there is a proper way to prepare an oyuwari drink. Establishments that take their shochu seriously will generally heat the water until it gets in the ballpark of 70-80 degrees Celsius (158 degrees Fahrenheit), but don’t hesitate to experiment with what works best and is easiest with the shochu that you have on hand. Factors such as the temperature of the cup and shochu will drop the heat in the overall mix to somewhere between 40 and 50 degrees Celsius. You’ll also notice that, counter-intuitively perhaps, the hot water is added to the cup first in an oyuwari. One reason for adding the alcohol last is that the difference in temperature and gravity will cause the two ingredients to mix automatically. Another reason for adding the hot water first is that the drink will cool more slowly than if you add the room temperature shochu first. Personally, I like my oyuwari piping hot, so I add boiled water to a kilned shochu cup and it quickly cools to around 85-90 degrees. After adding my shochu of choice, I have the perfect answer for a cold January night.
If you have a cooking thermometer handy, then it’s possible to get supremely nerdy and pinpoint a desired serving temperature for your oyuwari. Assuming that the room temperature of the shochu is 24 degrees Celsius, and we plan to use the standard 6:4 ratio, let’s use the following step-by-step equation to arrive at a 45 degree oyuwari mix. Take the target temperature for your drink and multiply it by 10 (45 X 10 = 450). Then multiply the temperature of the shochu by its ratio equivalent in the oyuwari mix (24 X 6 = 144). Subtract the second number from the first (450 - 144 = 306), and then divide by the hot water’s ratio in the mix (306 / 4 = 76.5). That result, 76.5, is the temperature in degrees Celsius that the water needs to be heated to before mixing with the room temperature shochu.
While we’re on the topic of high temperatures, it is not unheard of to drink shochu atsukan, a preparation method that is probably more common with nihonshu. Atsukan involves heating the shochu itself rather than adding hot water to it. Some people also enjoy atsukan shochu poured over ice—the shochu presents a different flavor profile after it’s been heated and cooled rapidly.
One of my favorite places to drink shochu in Tokyo is well-known for its nurukan (oyuwari that’s not quite so hot—about 40 degrees Celsius). The intriguing part is that the owner of the bar gauges the temperature of the water while it’s being heated by putting his hand on the side of the metal cup. He then mixes the warm water and shochu, and I really enjoy drinking potato and rice shochu this way. The hot water brings out the earthiness and sweetness in both the aroma and flavor. But much like shochu prepared mizuwari, there are some regional preferences that often influence how much hot water is used and what temperature it’s heated to. People in Kagoshima tend to prefer their oyuwari served at around 45 degrees Celsius, but the ratio employed will depend on the importance of the bouquet when drinking. The good people of Kumamoto Prefecture, home of the Kuma Shochu appellation, naturally have a strong affinity for rice shochu, and the standard 6:4 mix is generally served at a lower temperature, often around 40 degrees. Meanwhile, up in northern Kyushu, barley and rice shochu are served oyuwari when the mercury recedes. Importantly, all of these massive generalizations highlight the fact that people in shochu’s homeland are just as particular about their shochu as the rest of us, so switching it up to suit your tastes is undoubtedly the best way to go.
Shochu is sometimes consumed as part of a cocktail of some sort. More often than not, kōrui (multiple-distilled) shochu is used as the alcoholic backbone of these drinks because it has very little remaining on the nose and palate after several tours through a patent still. Honkaku shochu can also be used, but it is probably best to use barley or rice varieties for mixing purposes as the flavors are more subtle than your average potato shochu. That said, mixing with soda or adding a cucumber stick could work with many types, and if you have time experiment with potato shochu and whatever mixers you have on hand. Alternatively, you can skip ahead to chapter nine for some popular shochu cocktail and liqueur mixing recipes.
A shochu server with a pair of shochu cups.
Another honkaku shochu serving style that can’t be overlooked is maewari, the practice of preparing a full bottle of your own mizuwari mix at least 24 hours before you plan to drink it. This can be a good option if you have an upcoming dinner party and want to surprise your guests with a balanced and smooth drink that will pair nicely with a variety of dishes. You’ll need to experiment on your own, but I usually make maewari with potato shochu and an 8:2 or 7:3 ratio. After capping the bottle, tip it back and forth to gently blend the ingredients and then store the bottle in a dark, cool place. Many good shochu bars have large clay shochu pots perched on the counter, and they are often used to dispense maewari. If the shochu bar or izakaya that you’re visiting has some, definitely order it.
Drinking Vessels
Two beautiful cups made by Takuma Murakoshi.
The vessels that shochu is served in are just absolutely, positively gorgeous. Everything from colorful, hand-blown glass to artistically-glazed pottery is used to serve shochu. But ornamentation is not a prerequisite for determining what can or cannot hold your drink—there are few rules here. In fact, you probably already have some glassware that will work just fine. The stemless wine tumblers that are increasingly popular these days are perfect for capturing the bouquet of your shochu (not the best option for oyuwari, however). Smaller, stemmed glassware, such as brandy snifters, are also an excellent choice. Old-fashioned glasses will work wonders as well.
My collection of unique cups and tumblers has grown steadily over the years as my home inventory of shochu has blossomed. This is my favorite new shochu exploration hobby—collecting kilned vessels of all sizes, shapes, and colors. The artistry on display by Japan’s potters is as exquisite as it is diverse, and many shops, including major department stores like Isetan and Mitsukoshi, carry a selection of beautiful pieces by both local artists and larger outfits such as Arita.
If you’re after something a little more unique, then I would advise investing in some ceramic or kilned shochu cups. They range from the beautifully simple to the strikingly ornate, and they pair nicely with a small shochu kettle called a kuro joka. Depending on what they’re made of, some can be placed over a small flame to warm the shochu inside. If you’re planning to splurge on more traditional barware such as a kuro joka and drinking pottery, be sure to pick up a set of sorakyū as well. Sorakyū are small shochu cups that are shaped like rounded cones, and some varieties of sorakyū have a hole in the end. Yup, you read that correctly. As you’re no doubt imagining, you have to block the hole with your finger while someone else pours, and there’s no way to put the cup down without spilling its contents, so you know what that means—bottoms up!
A traditional kuro joka shochu kettle with two cups.
Time to taste
If you’re drinking honkaku shochu, then you should be aware of the ways in which alcohol snobs/nerds the world over analyze their drink before any gulping comes into play. Honkaku shochu is a wonderfully-complex single distilled beverage, and that means, depending on the company you keep of course, you may find it acceptable or even necessary to subject your drink to any number of pre-imbibing rituals. Step one is to hold your glass up to observe the clarity of the drink. Even though a lot of people do it, don’t hold your glass up to a source of light because the color of the drink will change. Instead, find a colorless backdrop, such as a white piece of paper or the sleeve of your boring work shirt. Now that the shochu industry is experimenting more with barrel aging, not all shochu are as colorless as water, and a pale hue can be a subtle hint about some of the aromas and flavors that you’ll soon encounter. Of course, if your drink has been served in a vessel that is transparency-challenged, such as those made out of clay, then you can forego this part.
Many people will also swirl their drink around in the glass to help give the aromas a little boost. This is an excellent habit to get into as smell is the life and blood of taste. Just as you would with a glass of fine wine, go ahead and stick your nose down in there (without actually dunking it into your drink). Then think about it for a second. Does anything smell familiar? If so, then the sipping itself should be an entertaining experience because you’ll be able to see if the aroma translates through to the tastes experienced on your palate. If not, then that’s totally fine. The challenge then becomes simply determining whether or not the bouquet of aromas is pleasing for you. Is it strong or perhaps even a bit harsh on the nose? Or, conversely, are the aromas difficult to pick up? Good. Make a mental note. Or even better, pull out a pen and actually write something down. I routinely record tasting notes, both in text and audio, on my cell phone so that I can come back to them the next time that I try the same shochu. I actually do this for everything I drink that is expensive (i.e. most alcohol).
Now take a sip. One of the key things to think about is whether or not the drink feels balanced. By that I mean do the aromas match up in a measured way to what is actually happening when you move the shochu around your mouth. Swirl it around a bit. Aerate it by lightly pulling air in through your teeth. Make sure to dip your chin toward the table ever so slightly to avoid a fiery mist spraying into your lungs. Mixing the drink with oxygen will help you to taste it better, and you should let it move over your entire tongue for a few seconds before being sent down the hatch.
If you’re the type, like me, who really enjoys this sort of thing, then go ahead and write your ideas down along with your comments on the ups and downs of the shochu’s flavors. Try to comment on how heavy or light the shochu felt while tasting it. Also, consider flavors such as sweet, sour, bitter, umami, and alcoholicity. Try to judge them against what you smelled when swirling the liquid around in your glass. Is everything in balance? If you can come to some kind of intelligible conclusion, then write it down. If not, start the process over again.
Learning to put words to tastes can take a lot of time and effort, so don’t be discouraged if you aren’t easily able to describe what you’re sniffing and tasting. You’ll be happy to hear that you can train your palate by simply drinking more shochu! I find that it’s also helpful to get into the habit of smelling and tasting all sorts of food, everything from grains to toffee to venison, so that the brain is frequently reminded of all the flavors that are out there. The broader your experience with these aromas and flavors, the easier it will be to verbalize what your taste buds and brain are trying to decipher. (Chapter seven has a lot more to say about the lexicon of shochu, so there’s help on the way if you’ve got a glass of shochu in your hand but can’t think of what to say about it.) More importantly, it will become easier for you to differentiate between what you do and don’t like.
Pay attention to the grains, spices, fruits, and alcohol vapors that present themselves. These characteristics will contribute heartily to the overall length and depth of the shochu. Length and depth are words that are frequently used when tasting other types of alcohol, especially wine. Both are incredibly subjective concepts that are nonetheless helpful in determining what you’d like to try a little bit more of. A shochu that is ‘long’ doesn’t stop leaving an impression on your palate as it makes its way towards its final destination. Some shochu will present a big burst of flavor as soon as they enter the mouth and then die off shortly thereafter. In other words, the shochu stops ‘short’ during the middle of its journey. Personally, I enjoy shochu that maintain their richness from the front of the tongue to the back. For many shochu lovers, length is part and parcel with quality.
The depth of shochu is another vague concept that is worth tangling with. Depth is somewhat similar to complexity and seeks to acknowledge underlying threads of taste in the drink. Simplicity and straightforwardness are certainly welcome qualities in a shochu, but anything that tastes flat or lifeless should probably be mixed with tea to create an oolong cocktail.
As you slowly develop your shochu-admiring palate, one of the most exciting things is being able to assess what the wine folks call ‘typicity.’ This basically entails evaluating how closely the aromas and flavors that you experience adhere to the textbook characteristics of that shochu’s type. For those that are turned off by the elitists from the wine crowd, there is reason to take heart. Many shochu are revered for their quirkiness and willful flaunting of the characteristics that would normally cause people to assess them as being true to type. One can easily find mugi shochu that tastes like light rum and then others that are more like low-cal whiskey. These are quirks to delight in, not disparage. If you happen to be in Japan, find a good shochu bar or restaurant and ask for something similar to what you enjoy. After that, if you’re feeling adventurous, ask to try something rare or out of the ordinary for its type.