From the Countryside to the Glass
By Christian ‘Suku’ Suzuki-Orellana
Behind the bar that I manage is a selection of spirits that all tell a story. From terroir inspired gins, to social and environmentally sustainable rums/rhums, and co-op driven mezcals—each one of these bottles were carefully brought in; based on what tastes incredible, how we can apply them into the menu, and of course, why it’s unique. This trip to Kyushu with JSS was not just reminiscing where shochu played a role in my life when I grew up and last lived in Tokyo, but also a realization of its necessity and placement in American cocktail culture.
My introduction to shochu was through chefs I worked with in Tokyo. I moved back to Japan after high school to work under the tutelage of my grandparents at their restaurants. My knowledge of the spirit was limited to what was taught to me—it’s stronger than sake and it’s from the countryside. Based off of those two pieces of information, I always enjoyed shochu in the form of an Oolong-Hai after a long day of work—or canned Chūhais from a vending machine after the izakayas were closed. Needless to say my knowledge of shochu was quite limited.
Over the course of the last decade, my appreciation of shochu increased as my personal brand—showcasing cocktails based on my memories of Japan—started to solidify. When I was approached to take a trip to Kyushu to learn more about shochu, I never expected to take away, not just as much information about shochu production, but also the personal, cultural, and emotional investments that I developed for the spirits’ category. Kirishima, the largest shochu brand in the world, was the most surprising standout. Aside from their vast selection of shochus based on different varietals of potatoes— with flavor profiles that range from blueberries, yogurt, and violets as displayed in the Aka Kirishima (Red Label) to the malted, chocolate milk & barley ice cream notes of Melt—they carry the weight of supporting their local environment and community. Kirishima recycles potato scraps, potatoes not used for shochu, shochu lees, and all byproducts of imo shochu production to create biogas. They even collect leftover produce from local restaurants and bars that want to help contribute. From this biogas created through recycling, they are able to generate enough electrical power for about 2,000 houses. This power is used for their five distilleries, but can also be a source of power for the community, in case of a natural disaster. We later discovered from a Toji (master brewer) of a much smaller distillery that Kirishima generously donated funds to get numerous distilleries up and running after the great flood of the Kuma River in 2020. Learning that this large corporation does everything they can for their community and their environment was a heartwarming reminder to myself that with great power, comes great responsibilities. Kirishima is story that ones’ success is everyone’s success.
The shochus of Furusawa Distillery are a beautiful example of comprehending generational traditions, terroir, poetry, whilst tackling what feels like an everlasting battle for women’s equality and respect in the Japanese workspace. Masako Furusawa, 2nd female Toji of Furusawa, after her mother—who is believed to be the first female Toji in modern history—is one of the very few women in the shochu distilling world. I gravitated towards Furusawa’s story, coming from a family that has experienced inherited cultural prejudice in the mainstream society and the workplace. Everything Furusawa-san expressed--from training under her mother and father, learning passed down recipes and techniques, not allowing her identity to be a factor of how her shochus should be perceived—felt so incredibly familiar. Both my grandmother and mother have struggled to earn the respect within their professional worlds, because as women in Japan, they were never taken seriously. Like them, I too have had to work harder to prove that a queer Japanese-Salvadoran bartender can be on top of the game. As illustrious as my career has been, when I’m home in Japan, there is no merit. I could possibly be projecting my feelings onto Furusawa’s personal mission—but after learning all about the history of this distillery, sipping on their famed Hitoriaruki (“I Walk Alone”) with notes of dried mushrooms, nashi, and green apples, it all hit differently. That first sip was thought-provoking and felt like true poetry in a glass. If Furusawa’s end-goal is to make an impact one just one individual—I can say, that was me.
I think my heart moved twice over listening to the stories of the Toji’s of Yamatoichi & Yanagita. Both Toji’s emphasized so much on setting up the younger generation of children to be the future of shochu production. Shimoda-san of Yamatoichi has dedicated an entire classroom for the neighborhood children to come in and study the history and production of shochu. While we were visiting, there were even a couple local kids who have been studying under the supervision of Shimoda-san. Then there was Yanagita-san, who has been setting up his distillery to be the safest and approachable work environment for his daughter, when she takes over his position. He does this by custom designing tools that are unique to his distillery, but have safety as the number one priority. His dedication to creating the safest place for his daughter to work at is just as, if not, more important than his day-to-day shochu production. From what we’ve been told, shochu production has slowly declined over the last several years. The importance of setting up the future of shochu through education and apprenticeship, is unlike anything I’ve seen before.
I’ve had two takeaways from this trip to Kyushu. One, shochu is so diverse—if not, the most diverse spirit in the world. With flavor profiles that span from strawberries to toasted sesame oils, ABV’s that range from low to overproof, the flexibility of shochu in cocktails is unreal. The American palate has changed so much in the last decade. I remember when smokey or bitter were not “in”. And now Mezcal pays the bills, the Aperol Spritz is the new Vodka Soda, and guests love funk. I believe the person that loves agave spirits and Agricole Rhums need to give Shochu a shot. In a way, they all share the “from the earth to the glass” philosophy that every Mezcaleros is so passionate about.
Two, there is so much American cocktail culture can learn from the world of Shochu. Whether if it’s putting forward community, cheering for resilience, or a focus on longevity—the lessons that were given to me had me reevaluating how I can be a better leader. I have felt encouraged to bring in more shochus to my bar—and like a library of stories, the morals of life await for the next person to discover. Please drink more shochu.