The Water Makes the Beer
The Water Makes the Beer
Craft Beer in Tokyo
I push my way to the back of the bar, bumping into two gentlemen in suits. The man behind the counter gives me an expectant look.
It’s a warm, fall evening in Tōkyō and I’m just a few short blocks from the Imperial Palace. Tucked away on a side street, the bar is full of professional types taking a quick break before returning home. The homey wood paneling and haphazard rows of bottles on the wall, however, suggest a willingness to relax business standards. It’s standing room only. Some choose to drink outside as raucous conversation spills out into the quiet night.
On the menu is nothing but Japanese craft beer, expertly poured by a short and wiry man in his forties everyone just calls “the boss.” He decides what’s on tap and how you should drink it. A high school teacher of Japanese in a former life, he maintains an air of quiet authority as he surveys his domain. I stutter out my order. He politely restrains his educator’s instinct to correct some grammatical impropriety. The place is cramped, but few seem to care about the 6’2” foreigner lumbering awkwardly in their midst.
I watch as the boss pours, then re-pours, until a crisp beer, looking straight out of a commercial, slides over in my direction.
“It’s from a place down in Shizuoka. A foreigner runs it. This is the anniversary brew,” the boss explains.
“Ah, I heard the water is good there,” a regular comments.
I perk up my ears. How many times have I heard that one before?
It is often said the secret to good ramen is in the local water. Water is what separates the top sake from the rest of the pack. Towns make their name on the quality of their water—the minerals that bubble up in hot springs are seen as good for both skin and for flavor. But the big beer company Asahi has as its trademark phrase SUPER DRY, discouraging even the slightest association to the life-giving liquid. Beer in Japan comes cheap, light, and in large quantities, most Americans advised me before my arrival, so I didn’t expect even craft beer to get so easily enshrined in the pantheon of traditional watery goodness.
I take a sip. It’s smooth and citrusy.
“Good, isn’t it?”
The boss smiles. I join my fellow pupils for another round.