Kobi Ledor
Google
I didn't know what to expect when my gf suddenly decided one sunny afternoon we couldn’t live another day without a tasting flight at Takara Sake USA. I hadn't even known the swill is manufactured in the US, much less so close to home in Berkeley! I was really going along just to please the woman, you know how it goes. GPT thinks “Takara" (宝) means “treasure” or “precious thing”, and, spoiler alert, a precious treasure indeed was about to unfold. Noting the thoughtful xeriscaping, we entered the elegant building no sooner than we plunged into an altered reality I can best describe as, how bout, a modern aesthetic industrial style with Japanese sensibilities.
A distinctive sweet aroma permeates the air, as its alcoholic vapors lifts you up the floating staircase, as if into the clouds. As you ascend, your changing viewpoint reveals surprises: massive hardware installations (well, it’s a factory—what had I expected?) and then, a very large and riveting painting in subtle shades of bronze and brown, a sophisticated modern Japanese take on the Lichtenstein-pioneered paintbrush single-stroke style. You know, the just-drag-the-dripping-brush-across-the-canvas style, only tastefully.
We arrived at the tasting area, a sophisticated bar in a voluminous room large enough to contain an A-frame polished wooden structure—try to imagine an indoor gazebo. An airy design with such beautifully crafted beams could only have been made in Japan.
Then the surprises really began. We met the lovely Reiko, the resident sake scholar and firecracker who greeted us with a disarming smile and a charming Japanese lilt. We pleasantly exchanged our pleasantries, and then followed her down the rabbit hole. Between us were, oh, half a dozen petri-like covered dishes captioned with the various extents to which their grains of rice had been polished.
At first I turned my nose up at the 30% polish and made eyes only with the 70%, until learning that it’s all good. Different applications, different price points—there’s an occasion for it all. But speaking of price points, this tasting menu is clearly a loss leader. By the time we arrived at the most polished sake, we were sipping the contents of an $800 bottle. You couldn’t help but emerge with a good understanding of sake’s sophisticated brewing process, unless of course you had instead devoted your attention to staring dreamily into Reiko’s eyes, also good.
Reiko opens the dishes and gives you individual grains of rice to caress, grains in various stages of polishing. Polishing apparently is just a euphemism for skinning them alive. As Reiko explains, the grain’s protein is concentrated at its surface, around the starchy center. So the more that’s removed from the periphery, the sweeter the sake gets. As Reiko narrated, we powered through our sake flight, beginning with sake brewed from the least polished rice and moving down the array of glasses to the most polished.
Highly polished rice for a distinctly unpolished taster, you say—like pearls before swine? Fine. In such matters, it’s true, I rely upon my highly polished gf. But even your friendly cretin loved the sake, and left knowing that Reiko’s splendid spiel would be echoing through my mind with every future sip of sake. Yes, the physical plant was beautiful and the sake was great, but Reiko made the day. In her capable hands, it was not just a tour, It was a tour de force!