Infront (of) Closed Doors. Again.

One of many, many at the hands of one. Failures that is. Today's being another, unless I choose to declare the noted usage of petrol as a success. I do not. 

So it goes, be it through lack of research, or lack of research, or furthermore through a lack of research, after trundling along a rather effortless journey to Brighton to engorge in the Brighton Farm Market, I was met with a rather all too familiar sight.

Perhaps it was another sign of my particular brand of burgeoning greed needing tempering, or perhaps how when a subject turns to food, all thought goes to the stomach. And as it does not contain a brain, I am not privy to the smartest of moves. Or, maybe, I am not at fault, for not only did the website state the "openness" of those doors between Tuesday to Sunday. But so did the doors themselves! And despite wearing glasses, I was not blind, and those rather shanty, scruffy doors, were not for opening. It would seem that the locals were not sure either, essentially all those asked contradicting one another. Or just not knowing of its existence. It would seem to be a strange location for a market, as it seemed to me to be a shop front, with side-streets only revealing rows of houses, and no clearings. Hmph.

Ever the optimist capitalist. Bored and slightly irked, I ventured down what seemed to be a reasonably kitschy looking alley lined with shops and cafes, hoping for some magical, hidden treasure of a place to rectify this tragedy and tempt me in to lunch. This did not occur, and a quick text to 118118 queried for the location of one of my reasons of coming down to this desolate "market" in the first place. With the address of the Plaw Hatch Dairy noted, I figured I may as well carry some sort of memento of this failed farmer's market scout/successful petrol wastage. There was nothing of note, though a pattern emerged. A pattern backed up by the general "kitschy" nature of the sparse surrounding people. A rather student type of vibe, with words like "healthy" and "dairy-free" thrown around everywhere. Sort of like a Camden-on-Sea. Without the skank [ignoring the main road]. It was however, rather silent, and devoid of any energy, to my pleasure. I decided upon a juice for now, choosing the more colourful of two juice cafe's. Ignoring whether the name of the cafe was "Germanesque" or a reminder of the thoughts stolen out of my head, I walked into the empty building.

The least fruity of juices was ordered once I located the patron snacking behind the counter, as I pondered for lunch options. I was not going to stay here, being the only certainty, and I would pass the aforementioned Dairy, though I was not sure if they had an onsite cafe' or restaurant. There was always home to add insult to injury.

Sipping through my appropriately green juice - it was called Greens something or other - at least that was pleasant. I think it contained apple, celery, cucumber, ginger and lime, though the predominance was of the sweetness of the apple and the tartness of the lime. Perhaps the vegetables in the drink contributed to the slightly savoury taste. Nevertheless, it was pleasant enough, and I heard it being ground into the cup mere seconds before. Quietly slurping the last remains, I fell out of the door and into the menu of a Dimsum cafe' located right in front. Well, I may as go away with a snack, Brighton is hardly near anywhere and at the very least it would serve as a modicum of worth of the journey [/delusional mutterings].

Not thoroughly encouraged, though perhaps slightly eased through the trouble of using the name of a Nepalese dumpling as its namesake, I walked into the diminutive cafe, to be confronted by astroturf. Everywhere. Hippy-safe. Put forth my order for the Peach Mini-buns, accepted the advised 10 minute wait, and commenced. When I saw the freezer being opened, and a pack being pulled out, from which 3 mini-buns were extracted, I also began ruing. Oh joy. Quickly exiting when the buns were "made", I carried on towards the car, hopefully towards real lunch and out of this growing pang of hateful disappointment that was brewing. I carefully opened the box of buns, fearing for my cynical tendencies to find scope of indulgence. It was rewarded.

Whilst the colour pink is indeed most fabulous, I do not quite share the same fascination when my food is coloured like a Barbie doll house. Nor looks to be made of the same material. This box contained what seemed to be toy food - infact, the "display" versions at the restaurant seemed more realistic, and they were squish toys. Or very, very old buns. I think it goes without saying what they tasted like. Not of peach firstly, and not particularly of toys either. They were sweet and doughy in a mild doughnut sort of way, but that's as much praise as I am about to give to the efforts of plucking some buns out of a package and dropping them into a steamer for ten minutes. I had to get away, and once again confirming that the locals had little to no idea about the Farm Market, despite being located in this case, on their same street, I departed, towards one of my original draws to the market.

Why had I chosen to come to Brighton this day? Well, I was going to come on the Monday, but the website instructed it would be closed then. HAR de freakin' Har. Egregious hypocrisy aside, I also wanted to scout another market, out of the slight pretentious contexts and occasionally empty promises of the London variants. Whilst not many of the advertised stalls seemed to be wildly different, there was a sense of honesty,  being a truer representation of artisanal fair, being a coastal town surrounded by farm areas. If with such surroundings their efforts still seemed cookiecutter-esque, they obviously, are. Well. Just terrible. But I would not find out. As apparently they are closed from Tuesday-Friday. But open from Tuesday-Sunday. It was not all a loss however, as I did saunter by the Plaw Hatch Dairy, bought my round of Raw Milk, Kefir, Live Yoghurts, and some pears too, for not too fierce an outlay. I also happened to spill half the Kefir inside the as the foil caps astoundingly failed to contain the contents of the bottles whilst rolling about on the floor. The aroma currently filling the interior is refreshing. I'm sure in a few days I will be able to accurately refer to the smell as being akin to a Mohammed Ali K/O.

Take two? I'll see how delirious the smell of Kefir makes me.

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[Restaurant - Filipino] Cravings, Nothing Else but Cravings; Josephine's of Fitzrovia

Location - Fitzrovia, London [UK]

It is peculiar what you are aware of and what you crave, only when that object is no longer part of your surroundings. It is also peculiar to note just why you crave it when you had never sampled it beforehand. Am I pregnant and suddenly becoming awash with diverse cravings? I don't know. What I do know is that lately I have been consumed by an innate desire to feast on the cuisine of the Philippines. This despite having lived the majority of my life within a measurable Filipino influence in the family. And never having any particular engaging with their food. I don't know either.

Throughout my years in Saudi Arabia, the Filipino influence was prevalent, with numerous maids aiding in my upbringing, and a rather prominent Filipino community being based in the country. I would pass eateries frequently, I would be in contact with them often, but never had I had any desire to explore further at the time. Though, it must be said, I probably had little idea of how it differed to other South East Asian cuisines and cultures at the time, I had no idea just how much of a minor obsession it would become. Following on my recent, well, let's just say "mission" for now, to explore the world's cuisines eventually, research had brought me onto the Philippines. A country, whose cuisine seemed to bring in influences from all over, then completely made distinct by varying distinguishing preparations and ingredients. The more I read, the more I became enamoured with the underlying basis of combining sweet with sour, savoury with bitter, all at once. I only ever became hungrier. Why had I not felt this way before, when all of this surrounded me?!

I soon hatched plans, to rectify this situation for whenever my eventual return to Saudi Arabia would be. I am however, grossly impatient, and would need retribution sooner. My first sampling actually came at the Notting Hill Carnival, where I let out a yelp of glee coming across a Filipino stall amongst the hoards of Caribbean fare. Granted, I only bought a Turon and a Hopia, it was a minor victory. A couple of months later saw a further diabetic treat sample in the form of Majablanca from Shepherd's Bush Market, but these were all little treats, not really forming any solid basis of the cuisine of the Philippines, as indulgently delicious as they were. I needed a meal. And rather surprisingly, there were several restaurants available, and not all located in some desolate Ethnic Community hotspot in East-side Ghettotown. Selecting a suitable date, I decided to sample the more renowned of the Filipino restaurants first, one that had apparently been visited by some unheard of celebrities - questionable bragging rights, celebrities have no taste - and was in the nicer part of London. Josephine's would thus be the first to answer the questions of my obsession. 

~ Starters ~
- Tinola Soup with Vegetables


Perusing through the menu, not much was found to be overly unique in the appetizers section, seemingly falling into the usual South East Asian loop of spring rolls, fried seafood and the like. Not that I really should have even thought of ordering starters considering the abhorrent gorging I had engaged in earlier in the day, but perhaps the replacing of oxygen in my blood with cigar smoke prior to dinner had affected my judgement. I also figured I may as well have a token portion of vegetables, in a vain hope of repelling some of the evils. As the Laing as not available in a "Starters" portion, I opted for the Tinola, a ginger-based soup.

Receiving a sizeable bowl filled with plenty of cabbage, zucchini, runner beans and other assorted vegetables, I was issued a warning/disclaimer for the chilli [*scoffs*], and then I took a sip. Ginger was the basing, the predominant, and the general flavour of the soup. A light vegetable broth, defined by the fresh fragrance of ginger. Exclusively so. The vegetables were also similarly plain, being just the right side of being well cooked, offering some bite, but not being terribly flavoured. The chilli was pleasing in its intensity though, its nice heat and zing combining well with the freshness of the ginger. Whilst not overly interesting, the chilli at least woke me up out of my smoky haze, and the copious ginger was at least freshening. And I also had some token fibre in my stomach.


~ Main Course ~
- Adobong Baboy


Whilst I initially had notions of asking for advice on what to choose as a main starter, preferring to leave the arduous task of choice to others - for my inane inability to do so - I quickly settled on the Adobo dish. If ever there were a dish that would offer a basing for the general Filipino cuisine, in my limited knowledge, it would be Adobo. So sayeth Wikipedia. Skipping on the rice, as every little helps, a sizeable plate of some rather delicious pork chunks arrives, rather quite quickly after the soup. Supposedly marinated with vinegars, sugars, and all sorts of spicing, the adobo is supposed to offer a representative realm of typical Filipino cuisine, melding sweet, sour, savoury and bitter tastes.

So I was rather disappointed when I tasted the sauce to find, sweetness. More sweetness. Sweetness some more. Maybe a bit of earthiness. Then some sweetness. It was not overtly sweet, I did not drop any limbs, but it was rather predominantly sweet. It was also rather generic. More than anything, it was similar to a black bean sauce, offering the same sort of earthy sweet notes, with a hint of soy sauce. Some black pepper was evident as well, as well as the fresh note of the garnishing coriander, but there was no sourness, bitterness or other qualities at all. It tasted like it was not new to me at all. The pork chunks however were pleasant enough, being tender and juicy, falling apart rather easily. Not difficult to envision considering the enormous chunks of fat some came with. I was however, left unenlightened. Wishing to discover so mind-bendingly eclectic, I was left with deja-food.


~ Dessert ~
- Halo-halo


Leaving my predisposition towards pastries, creams, and all things bad, I opted for the Halo-halo in the end, for the end of this rather quick-fire meal. Seemingly a favourite in the Philippines, the crushed ice desserts seem to be quite ubiquitous in Asia, something that did not really appeal to me. As much as I try, eating water just does not excite me. Regardless, it's traditional, a country favourite and yada yada, maybe I'll learn something new. Receiving the eating implement though, I also learnt that I would not be receiving it in a bowl:



The spoon amused. Then mildly terrified. What sort of beast would require such a monster of an implement to consume?! I received my answer. Struggling to see over the top of it, I was preseneted with a towering sundae glass of multi-layered, colourful excess. It seemed to contain everything, from the preserved fruit, to a geneorus helping of crushed ice, swimming in coconut milk and finally topped by a scoop of purple [PURPLE?!] ice-cream, and a slice of flan. Perhaps a sprinkling of fairy dust and some forest creatures lay in there as well. I was told to mix it up. Which was far easier said than done, as the layer of crushed ice had seemed to have compacted into a solid mound under the mass of its own gravitational field. So I started with the purple ice-cream, which I presumed to be ube [sweet potato]. Rather ube it was as well, not terribly distinct but rather..earthy, almost starchy in its flavour, not quite of sweet potato, but different all the same. The flan was also enjoyable enough, not too eggy and a light caramel flavouring evident. Attacking the ice without making a mess was difficult. The solid clumps made any effort to penetrate them result in the dessert trying to escape the cup.

Eventually I broke through, the ice not being particularly memorable oddly enough, though the parts drenched in coconut milk were at least a bit more interesting. I eventually reached the preserved fruit, scooping them out precariously trying not to upset the balance of the towering dessert. They were different - not sure what I was expecting, but in texture and flavour they were very much like a very dense jelly. They added a sweetness rather obviously, but, I find it hard to define any actual flavour. More of a flavouring, tasting a bit too commercial grade perhaps. I forget completely what fruit they were. The slivers of buko were nice though, providing some sweet coconut aroma to meld with the coconut milk and generally add some interest to the ice. Annoyingly the ube ice-cream had melted and joined the slush, but there being so much slush meant it was lost in the sea. An imposing, intriguing, and intimidating dessert, all at once. It was quirky, but also rather sedate. It did get consumed to the last drop though.


~ Drinks ~
- Calamansi Juice


Romanced by a notion that I would somehow feel closer culturally to the gastronomic spectrum of the Philippines blindly following what the menu instructed, I opted for a Calamansi Juice as a drink. More sugary drinks. Yay. Whilst the Tapuy I had wanted in vain was not available, I figured being a citrus juice it would at least..well. I do not actually have an excuse for having ordered it. It was rather similar to a lime juice, but an earthier flavour, possibly from the palm sugar used. Somehow it was also not as acidic, and rather subdued. It was pleasant, but not particularly interesting. Though this would be perhaps a case of expecting far more from something than the sum of its parts, it is just a citrus juice in the end.

~~~~

After the five or so minutes it took for the dinner to start, and then conclude, I was left in a bit of a quandary. Whilst the meal was very much satisfying, it was more so through its safe, rather generic flavouring and ample portions than through any originality, enlightening diversity or eclectic tastes. The service was quick, almost too quick, which perhaps defined the type of food that would be served, the whole three courses being served almost straight after the prior was finished. Whilst I can only speculate, I can only imagine that dishes being made from scratch may take a bit longer than that to create. I was also not sure it was the most authentic of experiences, a point that rings true for many establishments, though once again, I base this without knowing any better. Nevertheless, I was not particularly intrigued by much of the food, the soup being rather basic in its composition, and the main course being rather generic, tasting much like a typical sticky sauce based dish at any number of Asian restaurants. Maybe Wikipedia misled me, but in this meal, I did not feel like anything new was being experienced, like a truly representative culinary image was being sampled.

Granted, the Halo-halo was entertaining, but again, it was simplistic in its nature, more intriguing for its gargantuan size and resultant self-contained gravitational field. However, I was not left completely disappointed. Service was friendly, they actively engaged, though being one of the only patrons there, they probably could. In the end, I came away unenlightened. Be it for the area, the need to play it safe with food in order to attract more of the mainstream, but I did not feel I received a representative meal here of the Philippines - what I had seemed very "tempered" and generic, compared to the extreme notions of sweet/sour/savoury I had read about. Suffice it to say, my obsession has not been answered. For better, or for worse. I will certainly enjoy trying to find out more about what the Philippines has to offer though. Balut and all. 

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"You will Experience a Pleasure Coma for the Duration of this Call"

Twitter. To a pessimist, anti-social traditionalist like myself, is just another of the infernal devices taking over the minds of people worldwide, destroying the concept of natural and formal society, turning everyone into a "look at me" socialite with their newfound ability to have their opinions plastered on the internet. Much like a blog. I have also just joined Twitter. It has already motivated me, physically, to attend an event. Hypocrisy? Maybe. I chose to see it as keeping "current". Yes, I am ashamed..

In hindsight, it had to happen, as the world, seemingly like the lemmings it contains as a population, has embraced this "thing" and run away with it, to the point that corporations, governments and figureheads rely on it as a central communication resource. If it has one solace, its that it is pared back and straightforward of mission, and you won't find yourself being "Poked" like on a similar odious medium. No sooner that I joined Twitter, a move I only performed in order to remain updated with the sporadic happenings of the British Sake Association - through the gritted teeth of my conscience - and its influence has already lifted me off my desk chair and to Central London. That is an inhuman amount of motivating force. Having joined as a "follower", I quickly found several users of interest, including a Japanese/Korean Online Community that advertises events and the like, some of which I had attended, and thus something that would take my interest. With everyone seemingly forming a molecular bond with their phones, updates are frequent, with event postings coming up with regularity. This is dangerous. All the previous events I had attended required research or hearsay. This is making it far too easy to indulge.

My delightfully absent willpower was thus stoked by the "Twit" of a "Taste of Korea" exhibition at Harrods. Seeing as my repertoire of Korean cuisine experiences were based in a dank Hotel Restaurant in Jeddah, where I usually had the Shredded Chilli Beef [I know..], I thought it was an excellent opportunity to partake in. Especially as I could "fall" upon Laduree later on..Oh heavens, I am capitalising on gluttony. I promptly arrived, and through the maze of bumbling tourists and designer distractions, I searched high and low for demonstration, or any evidence of such. Not actually knowing where it was supposed to be. Neither did the staff it would seem. Eventually I was led into a possible direction, were an aroma suddenly became apparent, querying an idle member of staff who rather sarcastically asked if I couldn't smell it - I could, but my sense of smell is not GPS-guided - I was eventually led to the demonstration. Ah.

I had once again, in my boundless greed, severely overestimated the scale of this event - what I figured would possibly be a meal event, with a chef churning out full dishes for a generous exploration of the Korean Cuisine, turned out to be four offerings of canape'-sized thimbles from a counter in the middle of the Kitchen Ware department. This transgression, would not suffice for lunch. Regardless, they can subsist as canapes. 

Pajeon 

Domi-jim

Bulgogi

Galbijim

Kimchi

They were ok:

- The Pajeon was essentially just a thoroughly onion-rich pancake with a slight "seafood" taste at the tail, rather nondescript.
- The Domi-jim combined a rather unexciting mix of steamed fish with a mix of vegetables which did not really taste of much.
- The Bulgogi, the one of the only items I had had experience with previously, was slightly sweet, and enjoyable but certainly not mind blowing.
- The Galbijim was very similar to the Bulgogi
- The Kimchi was merely ok, not terribly pickled or interesting.


Distraught by this catatonic upheaval of a disappointment and on the verge of being disinterested into a coma, I ventured downstairs to drown my sorrows in what I would presume to be the divine Diabetic aids at Laduree'. It also has a restaurant. An ominously decadent prospect. Eventually stumbling upon the hidden trove I stood in line awaiting my turn at the pastries counter. The sight alone of the hoards of immaculately presented macaroons and other assorted pastries had my arms tingling with tentative Diabetic-motivated separation. This would require restraint. Though shedding an arm would negate the wait gain from a lack thereof. Win win. Then the counter assistant spoke to me, and I snapped out of my fantasy haze, faced with the impossible prospect of having to decide between the awesome and the more awesome. Having settled on the idea of purchasing a gift box of 8, to spread the guilt, I initially asked the assistant to choose. In the end I chose most of the eight, of varying degrees of decadence and mellifluous descriptives, and I moseyed out. It was decided that having lunch in such an environment, would only serve to further the temptation of these devilish mini-hamburgers on my lack of willpower. I had all but also forgotten about the Traiteurs Hall which had initially sparked my interest.
Clambering into a taxi and heading towards what I hoped would be lunch, I took the opportunity to take a picture of my beautiful passenger.

Bag of Destiny

An act, that revealed an ethereal glow, as if a higher power were motioning me towards this exquisite  rainbow of sin. The complete line-up lasted no more than five minutes, and one was devoured instantly.

Laduree Macaroons in Ethereal Glow

Oh. My. Buddha. Beyond the fact I was alone in the taxi, and that my mouth was currently being overwhelmed by a flash of intense pleasure, I was at a loss for words. Just what is this exquisitely complex and multi-faceted orgy of flavours going on in my mouth?! Why is every little bite drawing out such intricate details amongst this immoral richness. Argh. Refined and absolutely unsubtle in equality, how can it be?! The Rose Blossom macaroon I had just climaxed to, was an actual revelation. Never have I sensed such a dense creaminess, to the point that a slight greasiness could be detected, such a fresh, richness. A richness lightened with the delicate yet prominent floral note of the Rose. Each bite created a dance of this decadence uplifted by the perfume aroma, revealing in the final stages just the slightest bite of tiny fragments of almond. This is surely an exaggerated amount of decadence, it looks like toy food for Jeebus sake. Arriving at the lunch venue, I was cruelly denied my entrance to the Columbian Food Festival, having in my vagrant-mindedness not realised that I was indeed, a day early.


Returning towards Knightsbridge, I once again consoled myself in the back of the taxi, with the second of the quickly disappearing macaroons. This time it was turn of the Madagascar Chocolate variant to disappear. Not as intensely exotic as the one that had just transpired, but rather a smooth and gentle pleasure. A prolonged chocolate aroma persisted with each bite, seemingly refusing to leave the recesses of my taste buds. A slightly dark chocolate, just slightly beyond a milk chocolate in flavour, dominated the experience. I quickly taped the box back up. A quarter had gone, and lunch was still the priority.


Perhaps deciding on returning to Knightsbridge for lunch was not the most formidably astute of decisions, as whilst choices abound, variety does not, its proximity to my required bus stop perhaps swaying the decision. Now I have yet another reason to despise Public Transport, it affected my lunch decision, a heresy unbound.  I eventually settled for a rather complete meal at a Portuguese Restaurant, the meal including a rather deliciously rich dessert, full of condensed milk and other unmentionables. It would not halt my perpetual sweet tooth - how it has not dissolved into oblivious by now, I do not know. At once the salted caramel morsel succumbed, exploding in a deep onslaught of a sticky, thick caramel/toffee suffusion. The texture was intense, the caramel not hardened but certainly thick enough to chew. It was divine. The next one had no time to itself and it was just as quickly dispatched - getting rather confounded at this point for not paying attention to exactly what I had ordered, and the colours of the remaining not giving much evidence, I was hoping the next one would not be vanilla. Though, I equally did not wish to have the melon one, the choices mainly being the unexciting ones left for the "guilt sharing" gifts. It was vanilla. Quite literally. Stubbornly so. It was delicious though, it was delightfully spicy, and evidently from a freshly ground pod, the clarity of the vanilla notes hinting at such.


This now left the choice at Orange Blossom, Lemon & Thyme, Melon and another I forget. I was hoping I would have selected the Lemon & Thyme, as I already had my savouring of Middle Eastern influence with the epic Rose macaroon that destroyed my macaroon innocence with its sinful levels of pleasure, but it was not to be, I picked the Orange Blossom. I think. It was intensely creamy, very much like the Rose one, bringing a slight greasiness to the lips and tip of the tongue, but I could not quite discern the flavour. It was subtle, and not quite orange blossom-y, but certainly not Melon, Lemon & Thyme or the other one. Which may have been raspberry. Regardless. It rocked. And I now imposed a sanction on the remaining three macaroons; they will no longer assault my weak will and overstimulated taste buds. No more. With that embargo stipulated, I ventured back towards my transportation, though certainly at this pace it will not be too long till the point when my means of movement will be dictated by how far I can roll, or the effect of gravity.


Where to now? To On Cafe. To purchase some more macaroons. Start this vicious circle again. All in the sake of comparison naturally. This is the issue with coincidences. They are easily exploited. Though, stick On Cafe in Iceland, or Brixton, and I'd still find reason to indulge.

On Cafe. Not actually a Cafe.

Arriving at the scene however, and peering in through the opened door, I feared my expectations - I should really learn to dial down this hopeless optimism - would be shattered yet again. The "Cafe'" was not a retail outlet, not by any stretch of the imagination, a small kitchen fronting a rather large storage area in the back. The smell of freshly baked brownies however was filling the air, and stirring my overinflated digestive system. It obviously upholds the bliss through ignorance ethos. Querying with the first person encountered, I asked, with perhaps a slight desperation in my voice, if any of the wares were available to purchase. Allowed.


WOOT.


Shutting away the voices in my head that were exclaiming "BUY IT ALL, NAO!", I observed, chose, and made my selections. Despite the fact I was not even interested in the brownies, I also expressed intent on purchasing some of those as well. The effect of just cooked baked items have that sort of power. Though at this point it would be remiss to say that any semblance of their existence is enough motivation for purchase to me. Further comfort was had in the pleasingly "home-cooked" ambience of the kitchen - the trays were decidedly homely, and not industrial "just add water and MSG" monsters of volume. I'm sure if I were a bit earlier I would have seen the bowls and kitchen spoons of a hyper productive mother figure in the sink as well. Again, that aroma further motioned this belief. Amidst the overtly-kind [and perhaps foolish] offer to allow me to buy now and purchase later, I declined and went in search for more monies to pay for new frontiers of my greed. Such an offer would open floodgates. Though in retrospect, those gates would close rather shortly once I inevitably cease to Catastrophic Diabetes.


I returned, I paid, I departed, amongst shared thanks and in recognition of their newest fan. A little tidbit, they obviously are confident enough to shortly  starting up a retail outlet in Harrods, contesting with the almighty Laduree. That will become interesting.

On Cafe Macaroons & Brownies

I exercised restraint somewhat, and allowed for the previous geographic mass of food to have some hope of initiating digestion before commencing on the Oriental treats. Once at home, a picture was taken before the On Cafe buddies would irrevocably be parted ways, and I picked off my kill, the most intriguing of flavours present. Not entirely sure what I was expecting in terms of flavour from the Jasmine and Charcoal - yes, rly - macaroon, though perhaps some expectation of barbecue infusions moronically persisted. What it was however, was delightfully soft, especially so compared to the Laduree pockets of joy, that provided a subtle crunch. They were not either as intensely creamy, being perhaps sweeter. A jasmine flavour was not really apparent either, but instead, a rather intriguing texture was evident, right at the finish of the macaroon - a slight chalkiness of the charcoal on the teeth, interesting. Pleasing, and at once not quite as serious in its mission to reduce you to a quivering mess of over-stimulation, the macaroon was light hearted and subtle in its pleasuring in comparison to the Laduree. 


And now I'm in a coma thankyouplease. 


The morning after would also bring about the breakfast composed of one of the brownie squares, sesame and ginger. It was exceedingly light, delightfully fragrant, and overwrought with guilty pleasure. I may just have to blame Twitter for this transgression. A useful blame-bearer.

[Event - Sake Tasting] Kanpa-i Hasegawa Saketen Sake Tasting

Location - Piccadilly, London [UK]

With each passing week my relative passion for Sake, through learning and research, not outright drinking - too many empty calories you see - builds steam, obviously not helped by the relative strides I've made in research. Which include the unfathomable purchasing of reading materials such as books, eBooks and personal tastings. Which leads me to this latest tasting event, a mere twelve days after the last one, which itself occurred more than two months lull after the original event that sparked this intense infatuation. Emphasis on the fat, as that is all these empty calories will achieve. As well as some hopeful enlightenment. Yeah, Kanpai >_>.

This latest event was held yet again at the Japanese Embassy, a fitting place naturellement! Hosted this time by Hasegawa Saketen, which I would think it is safe saying, the culprits/divine beings largely responsible for instilling this obsession of sake in me. Much to reiterate, repeat and so on till death do us part, it all started back way back when before I was turned a quarter of a century of age [o_o] - a friend, who was similarly enthralled by many things Japan had emailed about an upcoming Japanese exposition, taunting me that in my typical show of absolute useless commitment of will, that I would not attend. So obviously I checked out the event details to contradict his rather truthful statement. Therein, I inherently headed straight for the Cuisine section whereby I found the stall details of a Sake Vendor. I was intrigued. Why is the man at the stall smiling? Why are there so many bottles, of such variety of colour, size, labelling, of Basmati Water? Is it such a proud drink to warrant bringing it to an exposition that would presumably be filled predominantly by Pokemon-clad individuals that should really be old enough to know better? This titillates me. What an amusing word. Titillates.

Research begun, interest well and truly piqued, first Sake Tasting event experienced, seed of obsession planted. That stall, was hosted by Hasegawa Saketen. Further enabling my obsession wherein I entrapped one of their employees at said stand at the aforementioned event, he brought to my attention a Trade Sake Tasting Event occurring in mid-September, and that I would be welcome to attend, perhaps in a move to relinquish my unfaltering grip of newbie-information gathering, and after the exchange of a few emails, it was to be so. The preceding tasting at the Japanese Embassy had left me in a bit of a quandary; whilst I was able to sample a whole 24 different examples of sake, I was barely left enlightened. I was left more confused than ever. Despite the rather obvious variances and differences between the brews, I was left cataclysmic-ally unable to express just what it was I was experiencing. Perhaps it was the forsaking of dinner at the event, or the complete lack of lifeforms within the vast empty expanse that is my cranium, but I was completely unable to explain just what was occurring with each new found drink. Which left me, elated. Elated, because suddenly, all the advice I had received that had previously frustrated, all the research that had left me unenlightened, suddenly, started to make sense.

Concentrating so hard on attempting to comprehend the intricacies of sake by enterprising on the unique and niche variants of sake, and the wildly differing characteristics thereof, I was essentially denying myself a proper grounding of the understanding of the core sake drink. There is more than Basmati to this water, and I had rushed to comprehend that. I had also attended the previous event completely unprepared, and thus understandably, rather dumbstruck. A factor only worsened by the adding of empty stomach to copious sake. This event would be different however. For there is promise of food. Lots of food. I also brought notes.

~ It Begins ~

I arrived early, prohibitively so, possibly overeager at the prospect of building up my repertoire furthermore, intent on not missing out on any of the variants available. My arrival coincided as well with the arrival of the gentleman that stoked this fire of obsession [I would say fuelled by sake, but I doubt it is alcoholic enough to literally keep it aflame], which with a restrained greeting, was let in, and was gone. What, no generous guest pass for the times we shared?! Maybe that vocal imprisonment was still fresh in his mind. Or my numerous emails kept him awake at night. It seems to be an effect I have on people. Regardless, I waited. And waited. And waited some more... The guards occasionally checking to see if petrification had settled in yet. I would suppose turning up over half an hour early to an Embassy Event would not have its benefits if you did not have the means, shattering all notions for a head start before the masses would swarm. My eventual release could not happen too soon, and I gradually made my way to the Ball Room, a scene of pleasantly intense confusion but twelve days before. Immediately I was struck with familiar faces, the waiters from the La Fromagerie Tasting greeting me with the evening itineraries. Then another, as Natsuki Something, Sake Sommelier at Roka, and serving at the Tohoku table at the last Sake tasting event, recognising me. This was slightly concerning that I had become somewhat recognisable - was I that hideously easy to remember/drunk/foreign? It could easily be an asset. Or my greatest enemy. 

~ The Sake ~

Nevertheless, clueless and vacant minded as always, I awaited further instruction, overhearing that we had to  be seated for the Flower Arrangement Display later. Super Cereal. I noticed mere platters of food upon the tables, perhaps hopeful in lieu of the purported 200 plus guests. It would seem, it what is rapidly becoming a recurring theme of mine, that I severely overestimated the food situation. In the meanwhile, I wrote out my generous donation to put me in good steed of the Sake Divinities, and the waiting recommenced. In the midst of this though, I started sighting, and overhearing of the giving out of what I thought would be the later serving of sake. I understandably bolted out, flabbergasted at the thought of having let valuable tasting time while away - I had a tight schedule if I misread this Programme correctly [half an hour of tasting/eating - sacre bleu!]. Happening towards the closest table, I was poured my first glass - the Asamasan Vento Seco [Gunma], a rather peculiar sounding Sake. Swirl, sniff, and sample, and I consulted my notes, trying to break up the individual characteristics of the sake. This would last but mere seconds, as I was comprehensively devoid of a starting point, and my former haunting of lack of a clue returned. I noted a very faint Muscat fragrance to the nose, and a low acidity. Maybe there was weight to this noticing, as the flavour did not spread much on the palate. That is all. That was my lot. BAH! Though not surprising, as in the twelve days I had barely expected to miraculously hone my blunt senses. Trying to capitalise on the time before the demonstration, I sidestepped to the next vendor, this time an English speaker. His face was familiar somehow, and he seemed to recognise me too. Cutting the romance short, he served me an Otokoyama Junmai Gingo [Yamagata] sake. It had a short finish. What steep learning curve?


Sat down, through the most excruciatingly mind-numbing demonstration ever, with the most misplaced dramatic soundtrack. EVAR. The flautist oscillated from calm, to intense to mellifluous, to the demonstrators placing and trimming of flowers in a pot. Its eventual conclusion more the exarcebated the desire for sake, and I was immediately back at the table of the mutual quasi-conoscienti. He was the sake Sommelier at Umu, and with that his mind too came flooding back, thanking me for filling in that blank. A few words were shared, obviously an individual passionate for sake, and I asked for advice on where to start, the chaos well and truly enveloping the tables. Away I departed, heading for the Azumaichi table on the suggestion of the Sommelier, where I was promptly served the Azumaichi Low Alcohol [Saga] sake. Obviously I had been mistaken for one of the plethora of novices at the event, heathen. Though in many respects, I was, as beyond noting that the flavour filled out at the recesses of the mouth, I noticed not much else. Other than being particularly light-bodied as I would think Low Alcohol sakes tend to in their bid to gently introduce people to this blossoming drink. Whilst writing down my deeply enlightening notes, I recognised the purveyor of my obsession for sake, the man indirectly but directly responsible - Mr. Hasegawa himself, who was also hosting the event tonight. I bombarded him with appraisal, asked a few questions that were left wanting with replies, and was handed a business card. He spoke later at the front, with Natsuki Whatsherface translating. Face, meet palm. 
I continued around. What food I saw at the beginning of the evening was comprehensively mobbed by exaggerated queues, obviously portraying the predominant interest of attendees. Granted, free food is free food, but this was ridiculous. In my hope in vain for a quicker moving queue, I also bumped into and was recognised by another familiar face, a random gentleman I queried with at the previous tasting event as he questioned the effectiveness of ageing sake - I this time brought up my rebuttal. Only twelve days late. Not wishing to waste more time, more sake was sought, this time heading to a sake brewery that was advised to me by both the Hasegawa employee, and by the British Sake Association. I was poured out a glass of Toyo Bijin Junmai Daiginjo [Yamaguchi] sake, wherein I commenced again with my futile proceedings. This one garnered a bit more than the wise musings of the previous sake, adding to its description a nose of strawberry combined with a short finish, again. Maybe my strawberry based breakfasts' were compromising my ability here, as I doubt that all sakes smell of strawberry, or so my notes infer. The sake staff seemed rather intrigued by my seriousness in the tasting of the sakes, perhaps as everyone else was just sampling their wares for the alcohol content. Philistines. Whilst there, I recognised yet someone else - either the sake entourage is small in London, or incestuous it would seem - I would return to him later. More sake as the food queues showed no sign of subsiding. Another suggested sake, this time a Tokubetsu Junmai by Isojiman [Shizuoka]. This sake was made with Omachi Rice, and not that my inspiring notes revealed such, stating that the aroma was ricey [REALLY?!], but this sake immediately struck a chord with me. I remember it being rather well bodied and maybe earthy. It would seem Tokubetsu Junmai's are garnering some sort of preference in my limited and thoroughly unprofound repertoire.

~ The "Food" ~

I believe it was at this point where I made the formal decision to grind through the prospect of waiting in a queue and headed for some nourishment of the solid kind - as my increasingly ragged handwriting was insinuating, the sake's effect on me was becoming rather apparent. The dead crawl of the queue was startling, did everyone ignore the section of the programme that hinted at the predominant Sake theme of the evening? Were they all out to sabotage my notions of an ample "dinner" available for this evening? Bah, too much thinking. Eventually reaching the tables, I was filled with dismay. What remained were a mere couple of trays of assorted skewers, meagre vegetables, and little else. I blinked, and the food was essentially gone. It what happens when you prioritise.

Edamame, assorted fritters, chicken yakitori and breaded skewers

So I snatched what I could, amounting from the one row of tables to a few edamame pods, a couple of miscellaneous fritters, a chicken yakitori skewer covered in barbecue sauce, and a couple of breaded skewers. They were tepid. Temperature, interest, everything. The fritters were not discernible, not actually knowing what they were, perhaps chicken. The yakitori was as exciting as grilled chicken can be, though the barbecue sauce was pleasantly not too sweet and commercial tasting. The other two skewers were peculiar - these were formed of an alternating assortment of meat and onion, then completely breaded over. Other than that, they were still uninteresting and struggled to feed the pooling sake in my stomach. This scene had instantly become familiar.

Not wishing to lose steam, I persisted in the queue, following round the other side of the ballroom to other assorted treats. There I found the Hasegawa employee of destiny furiously preparing away the little treats, obviously struggling to keep pace with the voracious appetite of the masses. He quipped that same notion. Not wishing to imprison him yet again by dint of having his boss mere metres away - who am I kidding, I was just hungry - I took hold of one of the treats and waited in line for the next.

Tofu Block with [devoured] Fried Lotus Stem

The peculiarly ornate combination of a petite seasoned tofu blocked topped with a fried disc of Lotus root captured my eye when I first entered the ballroom. I was less captivated when devouring it however. The lotus root basically was a very dry potato crisp, though perhaps starchier in nature, though the tofu block had an interesting seasoning. A rather predominant infusion of juniper came through, surprising me as I did not think juniper were a spice typically used in Japanese cuisine. That was its only highlight however. And by the time I had completed it, the Wagyu beef rolls being prepared next to them had gone extinct. Damnations. Some skewers and a block of tofu?! These, would not suffice. Not that I was left with a choice, as I had essentially exhausted what remained of items of sustenance. So I returned to the original mission, embracing the modicum of sustenance I had just consumed to assist me with further tasting..Ignorance. Bliss. Et cetera.

~ Moar Sake ~

I ventured around, trying to locate tables I had not neared as of yet, in a bid to spread out the assortment of sakes tasted as much as I could. Nearing the Ugo no Tsuki [Hiroshima] stand, I was poured yet again a Low Alcohol Sake, this time a Junmai. Yet another assumptive vendor, and yet another appropriately useless note by me - it had a short finish. Proud of my indepth analysis, I entertained the vendor next door, or table, that had the welcome benefit of speaking English, and thus allowing me to exclaim certain words that would avoid me being pigeon-holed with yet more Low Alcohol Basmati Water. I was started out with the Yonetsuru Junmai Daiginjo Dewa Sansan [Yamagata] sake, a sake I purported as having a funky aroma, with aeons passing by trying to determine just what nuance I could suss out on the palace. Liquorish? That will have to do. I motioned for the next, this one a Junmai Dewa no Sato - I apparently detected an earthy aroma, which gave way to a drink with a light impact and finish. So essentially it was what a Junmai sake is typically purported to be, rich in fragrance but delicate of nature. It would seem I'm learning perhaps. I concluded with the last of the available Yonetsuru sakes, this one a Junmai Gingo Dewa no Sato. It was rich. And I was poor. Very much so in descriptive powers, and in literal terms. 

With the time ticking down, and notions of ever reaching more food seeming distant, I started making my last few rounds to make a last ditch attempt at some semblance of sustenance, as well as make the most of the available sakes to taste. The chaos was a serious hindrance, but I was determined. I joined the queue for food again, on observing the return of the formerly exhausted Wagyu rolls, patiently watching as the thin slices and preparations continued. With the rolls disappearing at a formidable rate, despite the thinning audiences. Fortunately, with only a couple to spare, I was granted retribution, and the treat was mine, to serve as a further modicum of solids in my sake storage vessel of a stomach. Sadly, that is all the roll served - comprising of a raw Wagyu slice encompassing a smattering of julienned vegetables, overwhelmingly flavourful it was not. With that, I was content enough to continue for a while longer, vying to try the remaining sakes available. 

I approached the Zaku [Mie] table which served me their Nakadori Yamadanishiki Junmai Ginjo sake. Obviously what little food I had consumed had not brought about any enlightening sobriety, as the "richness" of this drink was all I could muster. Splendid. Much was the same at the Jokigen [Yamagata] table after sampling their Daiginjo Misato Nishiki, noting its light aroma. This obviously went hand in hand with the aerated light head of mine. I returned to the Azumaichi table as the commentator announced the looming closing time of the event, in the aim to build upon the heinously misappropriated novice Low Alcohol sake thrust upon me and sample something more representative, following the suggestions from the Hasegawa employee and others. This time I was given a sampling of their Junmai Ginjo Yamadanishiki sake. Slightly more effort or awareness this time, but as always, I noted a light aroma, but a rich palate. The finish was apparently restrained, my scribbles denoting it as "witheld". I am not entirely sure what I was insinuating. The event was well into the closing time now, a lot of bottles completely empty, and the Shochu I had been wanting to try long having been dried out. I encountered Chris Hughes once again, a stifled greeting giving way to some shared words. Advice was asked for, not much was offered or gleaned, some tentative announcements made. 

I left it there, making a bid for some last minute bid for food, or any bottom of the bottle sakes. I joined the line for the Sashimi, having only just remembered of its existence. Despite the emptying of the hoards, the queue was still healthy, so with its proximity to the Umu Sommelier, I engaged in some lively conversation, sharing what we had tasted and so forth. It was pleasing, his enthusiasm captivating and enlightening, only serving to worsen my own. I exclaimed how I found my favourite thus far in the Isojiman Tokubetsu Junmai sake, one of the ones he had suggested following on from my recalling of the sake he chose at my birthday meal at Umu. On this statement, he suggested me another sake to try which should appeal, pulling out and serving me a sampling of Biden Junmai Yamahai Yamadanishiki Sake [Fukoka]. It was appealing. A funky aroma yet again, obviously a word of a thousand uses in my case, it had a soft impact on the palate, and was rather smooth. Beyond that I could not determine more, but it was certainly interesting. With the queue progressing, I temporarily saluted him in order to not miss out on yet another meagre morsel of food by way of the ravenous remaining free food seizers. Arriving, I was met with the rhythmic procession of human sashimi machine preparation, churning out roll after roll. 

Salmon Sashimi courtesy of Zuma/Roka

Two were taken, devoured, and moderately enjoyed. Perhaps the subtle pleasures of sashimi and the like are best enjoyed away from such chaotic proceedings, and before the copious ingestion of sake, as they were otherwise bland, but generously sized morsels. Most of the tables now had cleared their wares, and the ballroom was quickly emptying out - obviously the supply of food was slowing and losing the interest of the attendees, who would presumably be raging through the streets of London for more sustenance. I returned to the Sommelier, expressed my thanks and saluted him, with him inviting me back to Umu. I then chased out the Hasegawa employee, to likewise express my thanks, for...something, not that he was particularly present or available during the evening. With that, the second of my tastings at the Embassy of Japan was done.

Tastings that were completely different in nature and scope than what I had expected. The serenity, focus of purpose of the first fateful event on June 30th giving way to a series of chaotic congregations of attendees of myriad intentions. These events, unlike I was expecting, were geared more towards introducing, promoting and encouraging the wonderfully culturally-intensive drink upon the masses, rather than further education, enlighten and inform those already aware. Which is what I desperately sought. Once again, I emerged thoroughly unenlightened. In essence at an event with such a broad mission as a charity event, that draws persons of all familiarisations with sake, it would be a hard task to cater for all, and perhaps would distract from the main scope of the evening. Bah to that. Though I did contribute to the cause, a whole 0.64% of the total amount raised [perhaps more, as the exchange rate ever plunges]. Yeayer. Crucially though, I did come away with more literal experience, if not figurative, having added a further 13 sakes to my repertoire, for a grand total of 50 sampled thus far [and four umeshus]. My ability to articulate the samplings however, remains as catastrophically inept as always. 

I was rather surprised with the acquaintances building. It is a given that the presence of Sake in the London society is still a fledgling one, but the proliferation of familiar faces and recognitions still struck fear bewildered me, meaning I was far too identifiable. Obviously a hindrance should I cause any transgressions in the future. Nevertheless, there is a benefit - a lot of the familiar faces being well grounded and versed in the Sake circles would mean I have relative access to information and assistance. Certainly with building on these, I can hope to one day overcome my atrocious lack of a clue when it comes to ascertaining and describing such intricacies as the ones apparent in the drinking of sake. The event however, remained a pleasant experience. Despite the abhorrent chaotic mess of people making movement a figurative notion, and decimating food [and shochu] supplies, and the resultant lack of more focussed proceedings, I still managed to broaden my repertoire, if only by volume. Having been so comprehensively redirected by the former tasting nearly a couple of weeks prior, giving a sense of direction at least to my over-enthused proceedings in the bid to build a solid grounding of knowledge upon which to build upon, I found some solace despite the fact that I had not actually learnt much in the twelve days. So how do I progress from here? 

Well.

If I had the answer, I would not ask. However, I can only continue on, and build on experience. Build on the research. Build on the advice asking. Build on my fame in search of new resources ^_^. And whilst the attempt to bring flavour charts to better understand what I was tasting was thwarted by the fact that a) there was far too much going on to be bothered with using the chart, b) I had no baseline to use the chart from and c) I still don't have a clue, and thus it overly complicated matters, I can only keep on keeping on in order to understand. It is just a matter of hammering in this quality into my particularly thick skull. 

More importantly of this point in time, it was also imperative to hammer down some more items of substance into my system, for "peace of mind". Dinnar calls. 

Read more!

[Event - Sake Tasting] Enlightenment, through the Sake-os: IWC Sake Tasting at the Embassy of Japan, Piccadilly

Location - Piccadilly, London [UK]

After my life-altering introduction to Sake that occurred on the eve of my Quarter Century of "living" [ugh], the structure of my entire universe was irrevocably changed. Such was the crystallising clarity of realisation brought on by the interest in Sake and its diverse, profound and characterful culture, that it has gone so far to restructuring my daily routine. For now, the hours spent on a daily basis on my laptop, were predominantly spent attempting to demystify and broaden the spectrum of sake. I also purchased books. With my own money. BOOKS! Sake has achieved, officially, the unthinkable.

Such was my thirst for knowledge - and within reason Sake, but not too much, too many calories - that I had immediately sought to learn more, constantly, striving to create a path out of the bedlam of novicehood to attempt to give direction in this journey of Basmati Water Enlightenment. After the first sampling at the Sake Tasting event, I needed more, a notion only further bolstered by the bottle of sake ordered the following day on my birthday. Plans were hatched, a rough direction was set, with the internet providing my initial outlet for research, but it was not enough. Intentions were set to join the British Sake Association, as knowingly such an officially recognised outlet could bring with it its insight. I held off joining just for a while so that at least I could bring a friend to join in on the return from his holiday. He however, sneakily decided to join without letting me know, the fiend, pushing for the immediate signing up a day later - in his dastardly move though, a series of kerfuffles that have culminated in him not officially being signed up as of yet, serves him. The day of the signing up also brought along with it a visit to Hyper Japan, wherein I entrapped an employee of Hasegawa Saketen for a seeming eternity, attempting to draw out his life-force ever more knowledge. A pivotal moment.

More was sought - receiving the Membership documentation, I devoured all media in an instant, and yet I was not satisfied. eBooks were puchased and read, some rued as they contained basic information I had already grasped, some depicting quirks, intricacies and history that further drew me in. The defining book however was one by a Philip Harper, "The Book of Sake: A Connoisseur's Guide". A book written by the only foreign Master Brewer in any Japanese Sake Brewery. Suffice it to say, there was insight provided, but out of all this research, I was left curiously wanting. I suddenly became enthralled, feeling that a career in the industry was a sure-fire way to garner indepth knowledge and retribution in this desire for understanding, but surely there must be an easier, interim way. Despite the purchases, despite contacting key figures like the aural torture I submitted an employee at Hyper Japan to, and the infamous John Gauntner, the only foreign Sake Tasting Official in Japan, and despite the reams of information gleaned, one thing was lacking. Which was substantiated by the words depicted in every source. How can I further progress in my understanding of sake, with its simply oceanic possibilities, variances, possibilities? Practical experience. Yes, thank you. This obviously was a notion I had not considered, and whilst initially disappointed in such an obvious response, I figured there was method to this madness. Reading an article of John Gauntner's, he made a statement the created some clarity:

Accessibility is key when it comes to learning about sake. You can read about it until you're blue in the face, but if you can't access it and sample various types, there's not much point.

Despite my initial frustration, in creating research notes on factors affecting tastes of sakes, and approaches to take, trying a variety of extreme permutations was not going to achieve anything if I did not form a solid foundation of sake. This is why I got frustratingly little solace in the responses from the aforementioned when asking for specific directions and brews. Discovering sake is a path that is based, on preferences - certainly there are guidelines and common opinions on what can constitute to a superior example from a lesser one, but in the end, you have to base off of your own conceptions. And the very slight experiences of Umeshu sampled at the friends' house would be far too slow. So. To learn more, I had to drink more. Great. There's only 1700 or so brewers in Japan at the moment, and as much as I would like to play "Eenie Meanie Minie Mo" until time cedes to exist, I need a solution. Not event a conceited notion to try exclusively Sake's from the Japan Prestige Sake Association found much ground in my clueless quest, as primarily I could not find a list of the brewers. The Hasegawa employee also discredited them. As well as my clueless notion. Solace was found in the British Sake Association - £25 well spent. A Sake tasting event was to be held, and armed with my substantially greater understanding/still relatively null repertoire of sake, this would be a perfect opportunity to start in my quest to learn more. I also had around  8 Brewers to select from, and whilst I did not know it at the time, they would be from several diverse locations around Japan. Regionality, score.

So the date was set, the place booked, and the journey made. I should have gone prepared. I didn't. No particular reasoning, though perhaps the best way to affront a first occasion like this is completely blindly to afford my own opinions, rather than getting entrenched in the mellifluous Aramaic quips of an individual in the know. I largely confronted this event as well with a stark inability to distinguish nuances and subtleties in flavours. Obvious I can do, I can describe the obvious quite well. Which would not serve me well. I arrived a bit early but was pleasantly allowed in several minutes before the General Disarray Public would follow suit, and from there I was immediately thrust forth to a quiet stand, shortly after picking up the Breweries Spreadsheet and desperately trying to implement some sort of structure of method to the proceeding. Therein I met with a quietly spoken Japanese man, who spoke relatively fluent English - one of the only I would find. Little did I know at the time as well, but the man also happened to be the actual Owner of the Brewery. The namesake.

Saura Co. Ltd [Miyagi]

Commencing with the tasting, he duly supplied me with a measure of the first bottle, which I duly swirled, sniffed and sampled. Delightful aromas, and a very soft feeling in the mouth. That was about as much as I could infer from the sampling. Try as I might, I could not distinguish just what the aromas were, or what the taste was reminiscent of. This even after my tepid attempt at employing some of the rather particular sounding tasting techniques some of the more "serious" attendees were using, slurping and swishing. Nada. Trying the next glass I was met with a similar concoction, with slight differences in the strength of the aroma and flavour, but generally following a trend. What trend, I could not say. It was not obvious enough to me, despite asking rather precariously what I was supposed to be experiencing in the taste. The third of the samples was quite different in its nature, proving to be less aromatic and slightly more savoury, with a funkier earthiness. Other than that I was stumped as to what any of it meant. After discussing the status of his company after the Earthquake, having been located in vicinity of one of the affected areas, and expressing rather emphatically my passion for sake, I bid adieu and continued on. Though I will return, as I need to further my quest for understanding of sake, and I need to seek further solace through education and possible career opportunities. Maybe my complete lack of Japanese, money, and degrees will help.

I approached the table next door, which contained a collection of four sakes from the Tohoku region, in proximity of the Tsunami devastation zone, and surprisingly, like the company beforehand, there were names I recognised, including one of a brewery I was researching in the morning. 

Daishichi [Fukushima], Suehiro [Fukushima], Niizawa [Miyagi] & Tsukinowa [Iwate]

Much like previously, any noting of distinguishing flavours were null and void, and this despite the variety of display, which span through Ginjo, Honjozo, and even a Yamahai sake, which are known to be particularly distinctive. It was, this one being the Suehiro, but all I could infer was a "Caramel nose, slight umami". Great. Much was the same for the others, noting either a clean, short finish with not much aroma [Daishichi] to much the same but with a fuller body [Niizawa]. The Tsukinowa sake did offer a little differentiation - this is a brewery headed by a female Toji, and before blurting "the hell they know", it was rather clear the influence was in the sake. Not that my note revealed much, detecting a little spice and some rice and floral notes and not too much aroma. Essentially, useless blitherings. Whilst expressing the blankness of my mind on my face, I was also rather at a discomfort with the proliferation of the spittoons everywhere, and the gratuitous use of them. Despite my being on an empty stomach, I did not similarly indulge, I figure I should enjoy the sake as well. Which did not take long to have its effect. It was a bit unnerving, the nonchalant spitting, swishing and slurping, it felt more like being in a souk in Saudi than in a Japanese Embassy, but I suppose its a method, and to them, it may not be the madness it appears to me. I migrated my way, aimlessly, as the crowds steadily grew with the influx of the public at large. It soon became a chaos, which made the act of jotting down my rudimentary, usually one worded demented scribblings a rather more precarious act.

A stand then caught my eye, as it displayed a familiar name. Approaching, I was presented by the first of the "Koshu's" or aged sakes, and I was slightly eased - what minute semblance of experience I have, is with koshu, having bought the bottle of Katsuyama Genroku 5 year old Sake at Hyper Japan, and that was as bold as a bold thing, surely this would help drawing out some conclusions. Except it did not.

Fujii Shuzo Co. Ltd [Tottori]

Quite unlike my bottle of funky, bold Katsuyama, these koshus were rather delicate and subtle - damning in the face of a critic who claimed that ageing did nothing for sake, in this case not being able to counter him, and the rapidly jovial warmth of the sake slightly obfuscating my ability to make coherent thoughts possible. I could sense a slight caramel note on both - whether this was true, or insinuated from my own koshu, I am a bit uncertain. These were far more delicate, despite having been aged for 8-10 years longer than my one. The 1996 I quipped I could sense a slight yoghurt flavour, very little aroma, and a bit of mushrooms and cocoa on the tail? Obviously the sake was doing my writing, though it was as such still legible. Their non-koshu I noted as having a strawberry hint to the aroma. As well as being very soft. Something which I wrote for a large majority of my notes. As opposed to it being hard. Raff raff. Another familiarity at the stand was the woman pictured - Satomi Okubo, sommelier of Zuma - who gave an introductory Sake speech to the most inept crowd at Hyper Japan. Complete with Pokemon costumes. Shortly after the samplings, the proceedings were halted for the Ambassador's speech, whereby I found out the identity of the man I talked to at the beginning of the event. Once the barrel of sake was broken up, cordial wishes expressed, the chaos was resumed.

Trawling through my notes, I continued through the procession of stands, largely noting nothing of much relevance and persevering with my clueless parade. A face was recognised, some sakes were sampled, and I continued along, with the presence of the sake clouds of judgement slowly filling my empty cranium. In the midst of the sporadic chaos, I started to notice the presence of a few serves walking around with trays of assorted food items. I promptly lunged myself at them and gathered what I could, just to give something the sake to dissolve, other than my internals. I then continued. The chaos was in full effect now, with movement becoming rather laboured, and Brewery stands all but mobbed. Another face was recognised, and this time with it came hope. It was the director of the British Sake Association and Shirley surely she'd be of assistance. She was not though as she had other much more important junctures, and I was deposited at the foot of another stand after a quick talk, again left at the whims of my inability to, well at this point, remember my name.  

Dewazakura Sake Brewery Co. Ltd [Yamagata]

No surprises here - one sake had been finished, and the two I did manage to sample only gathered a note of middling acidity and a ricey note. I merely put an asterisk for the second one, not being able even to generate a single word to articulate what was going on in my mouth. Is sake really this subtle and a matter of minute nuances, or am I this incapable of comparison? No matter, all the more reason to entertain the training courses that had so enamoured me, the power they would instil me with once I actually knew how to define this elixir that had captivated me so. I did return however in an attempt to quantify the asterisk, as no amount of convincing made me believe it was a reasonable descriptive. So I noted a hint of strawberry to the nose, and of it being rather mellow. Profound observations. With time also being of the essence, I chased up the round of the remaining promoters, managing once again to be economical with my words. Not by choice. 

Shata Shuzo Co. Ltd [Ishikawa]

This stand had one of the familiar faces, a man whom had provided me with sake in the past and who I would hope would provide me with insight in this rather daunting event. However, he was struggling just to pour to the hoards of the invading general public, so I chose not to submit him to such a monumental task. What I could notice was the first of the samples of being savoury and full of body, with a tailing acidity. At least, what I believed was acidity. The second merely got a "soft" from me, every other character far too complicated for me to categorise, and the final one managing to squeeze in notes of a savoury note and of being well bodied from me. As well as being soft.

Kikuisami Co. Ltd [Yamagata]

Moving onwards, I crested another table, after embattling with the surrounding crowd for a prime spot. The words soft crept up in my note a further couple of times. The first sake however did draw up a few more words, a whole seven of them! I believe I noted a hint of strawberry to the nose, though, it is the only fruit I could pick to the nose out of all the sakes I had samples. I could also state the obvious and note the presence of alcohol, as well as what I interpreted as notes of watermelon on the palate, with an extended finish. The other two sakes merely garnered a soft impact and a soft nose, both followed by commas, in a vain attempt to expand with further scribbled sweet nothings. More food was spotted, I skedaddled. 

Ichishima Sake Brewery Inc [Niigata]

Continuing round to the last few tables, I came across the above table, with a foreign man distracting a couple of customers and allowing me to evaluate the selection. A term I use only in false hope. Not much was noted, a shame as the way I had read about it, the sake's of Niigata, when following the regional notions of defining characteristics, I believe broadly follow the "Karakuchi" school, which is to say being a very dry drink. All I could note were a mild sake with little aroma, another that took two tries to conclude it was slightly sweet, and the third receiving the definition of being middling in aroma.

Fukuchiyo Shuzo Co. Ltd [Saga]

This was one of the final Brewery tables I visited before Godzilla crashed the party I had culminated my round of all the available sakes. This one also garnered the laziest, or rather, most irrelevant of notes, comprising of two words in total. As well as an asterisk. I noted the first sake as being fruity, for which I congratulated myself, as it is a typical nature of Daiginjo sakes [or can be], and a sweetness for the final Honjozo. I could only define the Tokubetsu Junmai with an asterisk. With that however, the self-created pressure of taking notes and attempting to comprehend how to taste apparently, were now over and I could reflect on what transpired. Up until now, such were the subtleties, though much more importantly, the numbers of sakes sampled that I had no recollection as such of any that had really enamoured me. Thus almost defeating the purpose of this "trial by fire" exploration experiment. However, one such sake did just that. It earned an asterisk, by its number this time, and not as a description.

Tsuchiya Brewery Co. Ltd [Nagano]

Mind you, I cannot say why it was my favourite, but it remained distinctly such in my mind. Perhaps it was eminently drinkable [as opposed to being an impenetrable block], perhaps there was a defining note. I don't know, all I wrote was that with subtle aroma, a medium impact, and a short finish, it somehow captivated me. This was the Tsuchiya Akanesasu Tokubetsu Junmai. The new object of my immediate desire. I did manage to exclaim a "Subarashii" to the jovial lady, which I hope means "Splendid" - I did not get a katana to the gut so hopefully the message was delivered. I was however disappointed at the denial of their other examples, having finished before I arrived; not that it is a definitive factor, but who knows what those two higher grades of sake held in their regards, if only the Junmai had managed to slightly invigorate me in this haze. With the rather persistent announcer now making plenty clear that our presence was no longer appreciated, the event started to close down. Making the most of the limited time, I returned to Saura-san to thank him for his words and in an effort to get some last minute further progress and "career" advice, after waiting for a couple of free-loaders to gulp down their generous closing out servings. Now that I had the contact details of an actual Brewery owner at my whim, I had found yet another outlet for my obsessive quest. As well as a hopeful means for further enterprising, once I can find scope and reasoning for extortion. Bidding my adieus to the Director of the British Sake Association, I then departed, calling end to this most chaotic of tastings.

I left, just as confused as ever. It was not an entirely lost cause however - in all, I sampled 24 sakes, ranging in variety from all sorts of gradings, to a varying brewing techniques, and even to a couple of aged examples. Despite this veritable cornucopia of distinctive of characteristics abound, I was none the clearer on interpreting just what I was experiencing. Nada. Zilch. My vacant mind certainly partakes the majority of this occurrence, but yet again, the words of the people whose helped I had sought, and the research had done were ringing ever true. From the first tasting I had experienced, already four substantially different variants of sake were sampled, one of which even included a Kimoto brew, though at the point it was just another deliriously awesome sounding Japanese word with no meaning. Ever since, I had strived on achieving enlightenment through the experiencing of the diverse and bespoke drinks, seeking to buy an Genmaishu "unpolished rice" Sake, purchasing an aged sake, and predominantly subsisting on delicious umeshus. In doing so however, I was not building a grounding of the staple drinks. I was not building a standard from which to compare with - this point became especially clear in reading another of John Gauntners' pieces where he states something along the lines of aged, nama- and other sakes as being nice on occasions, but distractions from the core drink, or something to that effect.

And despite my compulsive need to explore, heading in random directions with no real sense of continuity, perhaps they are right. Well. Of course they are right, the preceding sentence more than amply clarifies my lack of a clue. So whilst my heroically abysmal efforts at articulating the nuances and characteristics of the 24  served to achieve little beyond some gratuitous doodling, I did come away from the event, encouraged. And slightly tipsy. This experience, however informal and unstructured as it was, has taught me that sake, is particularly a drink of subtleties, and from these subtleties the true joy of drinking them is drawn. Such subtleties take dexterity to note, yet alone describe, yet that is perhaps one of the pleasures. Whilst the niche and eclectic variations abound may appeal in their respects, at this stage of being a fledgling appreciator, they can only serve to be as distractions. Distractions which only serve to add to the plethora of subtleties and characteristics of the core drink, and hence obscuring a means of comparison. So I intend to keep tasting, though with altered prioritisation towards the original drinks. Build myself up a repertoire and an understanding. Which I intend to do so in just twelve days, on the attendance of a second Tasting, again at the Embassy of Japan. It is a tough life.

In a bid to not remain utterly dumbstruck by a lack of any worthwhile cerebral activity when sampling the drinks, I will also aim to use some flavour charts from the likes of John Gauntner and co, which should at least breakdown the myriad hints and intricacies into more manageable categories. That is all I have so far, though with the presence of the Hasegawa Saketen employee that I imprisoned at this event, I may also resort to a second assaulting. A pleasant event by all accounts, opening my eyes to an ever grander range of sakes and its constitution, and whilst not completely enlightened, at least ever more driven. I was also rather surprised with the variety of people in attendance, from the connoisseurs to the beginners, and even to those that had nary a clue, to the ones that just enjoy alcohol, a truly eclectic range. Much like the sake. The evening had yet to cease though - despite the assorted miniscule shrimp cocktail, Chicken Kara-age, Sushi Roll and other miscellanea I had devoured, striking fear in the eyes of the serves, I still had to provide something to the bounty of sake to devour. Onto dinnar!

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