I have an Asian fetish, nothing unhealthy or queer, but
definitely a strong reverence for the culture, people, clothing, food. A past-life connection. I fondly
recall my first instructions using chopsticks as a child and have never lost my
attraction for their use. Cereal with chopsticks? Totally possible.
Naturally a love for Asia should include a love for SAKE, I
mused, although my experience with sake was limited to the too common
collegiate event (I went to a top ten football school, don’t judge) where one
places two chopsticks parallel on top of a glass of beer with a shot glass of
sake resting on top. Chanting loudly "sake, sake, sake" the table is
pounded powerfully by one’s fists to "bomb" the sake into the beer,
which is instantly chugged down with gusto. Bomb to the head. I was itching for
a new education.
It was time to give sake a real go, a proper test, and guess
what? It is AWESOME…a refined beverage with flavors that retain ones origin, a
luxurious product akin to a fine wine in sparkling, sweet, unfiltered
varieties. Truth. Plus the bottles are so damn cute.
At Laut in Union Square I
made this initial sake unearthing after sampling a delicious milky sake in lieu
of dessert wine and was determined to continue my edification. So I headed to
the East Village to Sakaya to peruse the
options, receiving instruction on the terrior, style, etc. of this enchanting
Asian potion. The store is brightly lit and intimate, the personable owner
extremely knowledgeable and eager to impart his sake skills. And the store is
home to the first sake club in America. Woot woot! Join the ranks!
Sake mimosas with cereal munched with chopsticks sounds
like a perfect brunch!
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