My stash of Japanese sake, bought in bulk from Japan, had finally run out.
My husband is heading to Japan soon, so I told myself I could wait. Just a little longer. Just hold on…
Nope. I couldn’t.
While picking up ingredients for gyoza, my mind was already completely filled with the idea of pairing it with sake. I hesitated for a second, thinking, “Sake costs more than three times as much here…”
But then I thought:
“I don’t spend much on clothes or makeup. Just this once, sake is okay.”
With that very convenient excuse, I opened my laptop and started searching online.
There weren’t many choices, but I found one bottle that stood out: a kimoto-style sake called “Hatsumago.”
I ordered it without hesitation.
To honor this special sake, I took extra care with the gyoza. I didn’t take a photo, but for the dipping sauce I used “Hatsukari Soy Sauce” — a naturally brewed, double-fermented soy sauce aged for two years in cedar barrels by Matsumoto Shoyu.
This soy sauce is made in a brewery that’s been around since the Edo period, using traditional wooden barrels. It has a soft, deep umami flavor that feels both nostalgic and special.
I poured the sake into a tokkuri, slowly, one serving.
The first sip of a sake you’ve never tried before is always a little thrilling. It carries a quiet joy and a sense of curiosity.
“What kind of taste will it have?”
As I took a sip, I felt it:
Gentle. Full of umami. It sank in quietly, softly.
It wasn’t sharp or too strong — just smooth and honest.
The kind of flavor that makes you smile and say, “That’s good,” without even thinking.
The hot gyoza, bursting with juice, combined with the mellow richness of the soy sauce, made the sake even more beautiful.
When I drink kimoto-style sake, I want to feel its story, not just its taste.
It’s a sake made slowly, with great care and tradition. That makes me want to drink it with gratitude, and in a calm state of mind.
Sometimes I wonder:
“Why did they name it this?”
“What kind of thoughts did the brewers have while making this?”
I like drinking sake while letting my mind wander to those questions.
Hatsumago – our very first grandchild
It’s a name that carries warmth. A name that brings to mind someone smiling with love.
It reminded me of when our first son met my parents for the first time, at three months old. We live overseas, so we waited until he could hold his head up before flying.
After a long flight, we rang the doorbell. My parents opened the door with faces full of emotion, reaching out their arms right away.
They were so happy.
Hatsumago.
Maybe it’s the kind of sake that brings up memories like that.
The kind that gently relaxes your heart, and makes you feel whole again.
Clean. Sincere. With a soft, gentle depth of flavor.
