Japan and the dram

"Scotch, straight up. Any single malt will do." — Sir Thomas Sean Connery

If, by some miracle, you did have the chance to clink tumblers and talk single malts with Sir Sean, what would Scotland's favourite son have to say? Certainly words of reverence — because that is the way scotch connoisseurs talk — but also maybe others like elaborate or abstruse, or even arcane. And this would be justified.

Even today scotch's production process remains more alchemy than science; its vocabulary clouded with often esoteric terminology. Some whisky makers believe still shape to be so critical to flavour, for example, that there are tales of superstitious crusties knocking matching dents and scars into new units during replacement. Or what do imagine the rather poetic term 'the angel's share' refers to? One clue: it is non-biblical.

Developing an appreciation of scotch is also complicated by the enormous number of different labels. Each distillery usually produces several unique lines, each with noticeable variations between batches. While, traditio-nally, these scotches were only sold in a distillery's local area, with the advent of inter/national marketing, the volume of product on shelves has exploded. Being in Japan further raises the stakes: many distillers release limited editions here not offered even in Scotland.

Ironically, it is basically the density of whisky tradition that has kept quality high despite landslide commercialisation of the industry over the last two decades. It is simply not possible to create the same depth of flavour and aroma with mass-production techniques. Good whisky is a slow beast. Each dram you sample will have different secrets to whisper to your nose and palate.

Still, there is reason for concern. The multi-billion dollar value of the industry has seen all but one of Scotland's larger distillers gradu-ally acquired by international beverage corporations. Even Japanese companies such as Suntory now own distilleries in the country. Although to Suntory's credit at least, prestige has probably been a stronger motivator than profit.

Uncorking the world of scotch

Understanding the subtleties of scotch does take some application. Fortunately, our mission is simplified by the fact that we are primarily interested in the good stuff: single malts, rather than blends, or other compositions. This does not mean blends are the anti-scotch; Johnny Walker Black Label, for one, is spoken of with respect. However, blends generally contain lower-grade grain alcohol and can not match the rich drinking experience of single malts.

Our quest for the ultimate tipple is also made easier by the simila-rities between whiskies from different parts of Scotland. The profile of each scotch has traditionally been heavily influenced by local environ-mental conditions, which refers as much to factors such as regi-onal palate and culture as water and air quality. These characteri-stics have now become firmly established for each geographical production area.

For example, labels from the island of Islay (pronounced
ay-la), such as Bowmore and Lagavulin, tend to be heavy-bodied liquids rolling with peat smoke and sea brine, whereas Highland drams like Glenmorangie and Dalwhinnie are known for their sweet, heathery nuances that sit lightly in the nose and mouth. You will notice the differences in aroma as soon as you uncork the bottle.

If you are just starting to investigate scotch, you might want to try Glenmorangie as a benchmark. It has excellent credentials, being Scot-land's top-selling single malt, but is less spicy than an Islands brew such as Talisker. The Macallan (Speyside area) is another softer beve-rage, as is Glenkinchie (Lowlands). Western Highland drams such as Oban also offer a balance between Islay and Highland characteristics.

A word in your ear though, treat cask strength brews with due respect. While your average scotch is around 40 percent alcohol, cask strengths are generally in excess of 60. But even with a cask strength, water should, of course, be reserved for cleansing the palate between nips. Ice is also a flavour killer.

Local drams

The way it was

My first encounter with Japanese whisky was a share in a Suntory long neck: 900 yen for 750 ml. Boy, what a bargain! Boy, was I dim. The hangover it left me with was so toxic that I spent the next two days wishing I was dead, and then another two feeling like I was.

The moral here is choose your Japanese whisky with full awareness. For Suntory products, and also those of Japan's other major distiller, Nikka, span the distance from witches brew right through to lauded international award winner. Most business analysts will tell you that covering the market like this is brand name suicide, but Suntory has consistently managed to dominate local sales with the strategy.

A large measure of the credit for this must go to the same stars who put post-war sales of polyester suits through the roof: Japan's iron-stomached salary-men. When Suntory founder Shinjiro Torii first announced his plans to produce whisky, he was largely warned off by those who believed the spirit would be too prickly for the local palate. However, Torii persisted, and, in 1923, Suntory established its Yamazaki distillery.

Unfortunately, despite the location's excellent water, initial results solidly backed the nay sayers.
In fact, it was not until the 1950s, when Japan remobalised it-self, this time to liberate international product markets, that Suntory's whisky sales really started to gurgle. As the country's economy grew, so did its thirst for symbols of its success, including sophisticated Western beverages.

Fortunately, Suntory was happy to oblige, manufacturing a range of blends priced to ensure everyone could afford a taste of the dream. This run continued well into the 1980s — until the government suddenly decided to blow a hole in the Bubble economy, also letting the helium out of Suntory's whisky business.

The way it may be

In his latest volume, Whisky, The Definitive World Guide, Michael Jackson states his belief that by 2020 Japan could command as much respect as Scotland for its whisky product. Much in the same way as New World wines have upset France's traditional dominance. It is a bold claim, but Jackson does draw considerable homage as one of the world's leading whisky experts.

While it is difficult to imagine Japan ever matching Scotland for variety — it just does not have the number of distilleries — Nikka's first-place finish in Whisky Magazine's 2001 competition and, more recently, Suntory's gold-medal performance at the 2004 International Spirits Challenge have launched the country into the upper atmosphere of the whisky world.

Japan also has innovation on its side. In some aspects of the production process, local distilleries have remained closer to tradition than their Scottish counterparts. Yet, at the same time, they are experimenting with different yeasts, casks and malt-smoking ingredients, which each leave a unique, and seemingly highly marketable, imprint on the whisky.

Ironically, the industry may also benefit from the same recession that has bruised domestic sales. As Japan's days as an economic power wane, more creative forces are slowly bubbling to the surface, attracting new status to the country as a lifestyle icon: Japanese fashion, entertainment and, particularly, food are all hitting big time right round the world.

Suntory, for one, looks to be on to this opportunity. Its recent switch to the use of heavily muscled kanji on its labels points to both a growing confidence in the local product and
a desire to promote its Japaneseness. The company is also taking advantage of the publicity generated by its cameo role in Sophia Coppola's excellent Lost in Translation.

Suntory will definitely have taken reinforcement from Michael Jackson's latest comments. With both the company and the international market thus seemingly primed, Jackson's claim has the potential to become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Text: Kym Hutcheon
Photos: Jatin Banker • Special thanks to Suntory Yamazaki Distillery