In Tamba, Hyogo, mornings often dissolve into deep, ethereal white. Here, amidst lingering fog, Nishiyama Sake Brewery stands in quiet dignity.
Years ago, a poet named this sake “Kozutsumi”. It was a tribute to its nature—like a drum not struck with force, but tapped gently, leaving only a serene, haunting echo.
The essence lies in the land’s “gentle water.” Devoid of force, it allows fermentation to move slowly, patiently. It is a philosophy reflected in the bottle: the art of not rushing.
Pouring “Rojō Hanaari” reveals a paradox of brilliance and modesty. On the palate, it glides like silky water, only to reveal a quiet, profound umami that blooms softly.
In eras past, poets gathered here to exchange verses. That spirit lingers today. Drinking this is not about acquiring knowledge, but feeling a fulfillment rooted deep within—like the quiet joy of opening a book of poetry.
As the fog lifts, the memory remains. A presence that stays with you, long after the glass is empty.