Now, unwine

In the haze that is an alcohol-addled afternoon, I stumble out of the belly of Delhi’s new JW Marriott; more accurately, from the underground section of its Japanese fine dining restaurant, Akira Back, named after its snowboarder-turned-Las Vegas-showman-chef. A man who also runs the Bellagio’s Yellowtail kitchen. Here for a sake tasting and pairing lunch — a first for me and most other guests — I find myself wondering (as I was three hours ago), if marathon sake tasting is any different from marathon wine tasting.

I’ve been at plenty of tables overrun by Riedels and Spiegelaus before — some planted smack in the middle of a vineyard like a Peter Mayle novel — encouraged to sniff, swirl and sip, preferably, without knocking the stemware or burping. Sake, on the other hand, has only ever played second fiddle to my sushi and tempura; ignored by the third sip, and forgotten entirely by the fourth like jasmine tea at a Peking duck dinner.

It comes as no minor surprise then, that there are seven shot glass-like sapphire blue chokos lined up in front of me. Typically drunk cold — at about 10 degrees like white wines, although maintaining the temperature once it’s served is hardly a matter of national emergency — only a few sakes, usually those with a rougher edge, benefit from heating. Ours are all cold, of course, because Masumi, the 350-year-old family-run sake brand that is hosting the event, is showcasing its best and brightest.

Graded by the degree to which the brown rice is milled, where the finest variety retains as little as 40 per cent of the original grain, sakes on top of the quality pyramid are called daiginjo (40-50 per cent). Ginjo (50-60 per cent) and futsushu (60-70 per cent), the equivalent of a table wine, are lower down the order.

As with all things Japanese, there are several other finer distinctions, each more esoteric and difficult to enunciate than the next. But in essence, apart from the milling of the rice and the water (collected from high mountain streams), it is the climate (most conducive in winter) and the koji (mold used to break the starch into sugars) that determine a sake’s sweetness, umami and end notes.

Many of the sakes we taste are surprisingly fruity, prompting a fellow taster to exclaim “ber” like eureka at one point. All are light, non-acidic (unlike wines), and paired, as is the custom, with camaraderie and great food — from the signature Akira Back Yellowtail Jalapenos and sous vide Wasabi Tenderloin to sake-steamed Grouper and spicy Dragon Sushi; all delicate, toothsome and refreshing.

But what’s perhaps, most refreshing, is that many in the room (including me), know as much about sakes as they know about their motherboards. Even the vino-it-alls flounder trying to clothe sake in a borrowed, ill-fitting vocabulary. I do no such thing, of course, enjoying the buzz and walking out into the weak winter sun like a sated, sake-soaked trout. Hic!

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