From overflowing sake glasses placed inside cedar masu boxes to noisy izakaya hidden beneath the skyscrapers of Shinjuku – my first evenings in Tokyo became an unexpected introduction not only to Japanese alcohol, but also to the unique social culture surrounding it. A beginner’s journey through sake, shochu, plum wine and long Tokyo nights spent eating, drinking and slowly discovering Japan.
On our very first evening in Tokyo, there was one thing we knew we absolutely had to experience before anything else – sake served in the traditional Japanese way. After a long day of travelling and our first walk through Shinjuku, we eventually found ourselves in a tiny izakaya hidden somewhere between office towers, railway tracks and glowing neon signs. It was there, on that first evening in Japan, that I had my first real introduction not only to sake itself, but also to Japanese drinking culture as a whole, which turned out to be far more relaxed, social and lively than I had imagined before arriving.
Sake is one of Japan’s most traditional alcoholic drinks. Outside Japan it is often described as rice wine, although technically its production process is actually much closer to brewing beer than making grape wine. Sake is produced from fermented rice, water, yeast and kōji mould, which converts the starch in the rice into fermentable sugars. The process itself is surprisingly intricate and highly refined, and in Japan the quality of sake is treated with the same seriousness that wine receives in France or whisky in Scotland.
Only a few days into the trip, I had already begun to realise how enormous and complex the world of sake really is. There are countless varieties differing in flavour, aroma, sweetness, texture and production method. Some are light and almost floral, others richer, earthier or much drier. One of the things that surprised me most was how important temperature is when serving sake. Depending on the variety, it may be served either chilled or warm. More delicate and expensive types are usually served cold to preserve their subtle flavours, while simpler varieties are often heated, which brings out stronger and fuller notes.
We decided to try cold sake, and this was when I first encountered one of the most distinctive rituals associated with serving it. Small glasses were placed inside square wooden boxes called masu, traditionally made from fragrant cedar wood. The waiter then began slowly pouring the sake into the glass until it overflowed completely and spilled into the wooden box underneath. From a European perspective, it almost looked like a mistake or unnecessary excess at first. In reality, however, the overflowing sake is entirely intentional and symbolises generosity, hospitality and abundance. The idea is that a guest should receive more than enough, never merely a full glass.
Cold sake traditionally served in small glasses placed inside wooden masu boxes and deliberately filled until the drink overflowed into the container below – a gesture symbolising generosity and abundance. Beside the glasses are the small appetisers automatically served at the beginning of the evening in the izakaya.
We first drank directly from the glass itself and afterwards either sipped the remaining sake from the masu box or carefully poured it back into the glass. The entire ritual felt strangely elegant despite its simplicity and perfectly matched the atmosphere of those tiny izakaya hidden beneath the railway tracks of Shinjuku.
Only later did I begin to understand how broad Japanese drinking culture really is, because sake was only one part of it. During the trip we also tried several other alcoholic drinks that turned out to be just as characteristic and deeply connected to everyday life in Japan.
The most common drink by far was actually beer. It seemed to be everywhere – in restaurants, izakaya, supermarkets, vending machines and convenience stores. In the evenings, huge numbers of office workers would gather after work simply to drink beer together, usually accompanied by endless small dishes shared around the table. Japanese beer is typically light, crisp and extremely easy to drink, particularly with food. Even people who do not normally care much for beer might be surprised by how naturally it fits Japanese cuisine. Brands such as Asahi, Sapporo, Kirin and Suntory are deeply woven into everyday Japanese life, and only after arriving there did I fully realise how important beer culture actually is in Japan.
Another drink that appeared constantly around us was shochu. At first, the easiest comparison in my mind was something between vodka and a stronger distilled spirit, but very quickly it became clear that shochu has its own entirely separate identity. It can be produced from rice, barley, sweet potatoes, buckwheat or sugar cane, and depending on the ingredient the flavour changes dramatically. Some varieties are smooth and delicate, while others are earthy, heavy and surprisingly intense. Shochu is commonly served over ice, diluted with water or mixed with tea, and despite being hugely popular in Japan, it remains relatively unknown outside the country.
One of the most approachable drinks we discovered was undoubtedly umeshu, a plum liqueur made from ume fruit. Compared with sake or shochu, it is sweeter, fruitier and much easier to enjoy immediately. It was often served over ice or mixed with sparkling water and had a wonderfully balanced flavour – sweet, fragrant and slightly tart at the same time. It was probably one of those drinks that almost anyone could enjoy, even people who normally dislike stronger alcohol.
Perhaps the biggest surprise for me, however, was Japanese whisky. Before travelling to Japan, I had barely realised that the country produced whisky considered among the finest in the world. Japanese distilleries originally drew inspiration from Scottish whisky-making traditions, but gradually developed a style of their own – smoother, more restrained and exceptionally refined. Today names such as Yamazaki, Hibiki and Nikka are internationally recognised, but at the time this was an entirely unexpected discovery for me.
What stayed with me most from those evenings, though, was not any specific drink itself but the entire atmosphere surrounding it. Going out for drinks in Japan rarely felt like simply going drinking. Instead, evenings in izakaya became long, social rituals built around conversation, shared dishes, grilling food together at the table and slowly ordering one small plate after another. And perhaps that was exactly what fascinated me most during those first evenings in Tokyo. During the day the city felt orderly, disciplined and almost overwhelmingly controlled, yet at night the tiny izakaya hidden beneath the skyscrapers filled with groups of friends, students and office workers laughing loudly, eating, drinking and finally relaxing after work.
