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It took two divine beings, Izanagi no Mikoto and Izanami no Moto, who descended on the inky liquid of the earth, stirring vigorously with their jeweled spear until drops congealed and grew out as a series of little islands. The first of these islands, the first piece of land in existence on earth is known today as Awaji Island, and the drops that followed formed the remainder of the Japanese Archipelago.
From the mainland, a steep mountain range runs near the coast overlooking Awaji Island called Mount Rokko. An offspring of the land-creating beings, Kuraokami, is a dragon who presides over the falling precipitation, such as the rains over Mount Rokko that fosters the life on the mountain range but also gathers under ground in aquifers. Two of these break into streams and combine to form what has become known as Miyamizu and the most prized water in all of Japanese sake-making.
Throughout most of Japan the streams run fast over volcanic soils contributing to mostly soft waters. The distinction between soft and hard water is based upon the amount of minerals the water picks up along its journey on land, which comes down to the present mineral’s ability to dissolve as well as the duration of contact. Rain is soft.
The Rokko Mountains contain mostly a biotite granite that consists of quartz, feldspar, and biotite mica, and significantly for a small 700 meter area that runs through the villages of Nishinomiya and Imazu, the water gathers hardness like nowhere else in Japan accumulating in calcium and magnesium.
For a long time most of the attention in sake making had been placed on the rice, which intuitively fits. But that all changed when Yamamura Tozaemon, sixth head of the Yamamura family sake breweries noticed that of his two kura one made significantly better sake (to his tastes) than the other. Despite trying to carry over rice and even personnel from the better kura, it wasn’t until he transported water on the backs of oxen from one to the other was he able to make sake as good at Uozaki as that at Nishinomiya. And then not only was water’s role in sake-making fully recognized- for the accumulated minerals in some harder waters aided a more vigorous and full fermentation, but the unique environmental and situational happenstance of making sake with the Miyamizu made it famous.
After the success of Nishinomiya, a person named Senzaburo Miura sought to make his own sake but his batches continuously met their demise despite using the best practices for the time. In Hokkaido, Senzaburo had nothing but soft water around him. The soft water encouraged a sluggish fermentation and eventually led to a rotten final product. But don’t tell a dreamer they can’t do something because after years of stubborn experimentation Senzaburo honed in on a method that produced a successful final sake using soft water that brought out more refreshing tastes and aromas that the sharpness of the hard water couldn’t achieve. To do this Senzaburo used less koji and ripened the inoculated rice until it was well-matured so the fungus penetrated more deeply.
In days like ours today where we can “correct” the composition of any water to suit out brewing needs, it seems worth reflecting on the power of working with what's really truely there as Yamamura and Senzaburo did. The human collaboration with nature that brought about sake led to the “discovering” of a special peculiarity running down a local mountain side and to a special reverence for that place. And rather than bending nature to meet his goals, Senzaburo let himself be bent by nature until him and nature were in agreement.
And in a season as perpetually rainy and temperamental as the Spring we're having now, such flexibility seems like it could come in handy.
Happy Fermenting!
C
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