Tokyo is home to ten sake breweries. Nine of them are in Tama. That makes a certain kind of sense once you think about it. Mountains, rivers, and the rhythms of daily life: these conditions for sake have always been here. An evening in Hinohara Village. A softly lit home. Two women, one bottle. Chilled or warmed? Decided on the spot. This is Watanabe’s account of their evenings together, a small story that begins with a single cup.
The conversation carried over from the night before, glasses of sake-and-soda still in hand.
Marco (M): “You know, I’ve been thinking. Isn’t it time we all moved on from that almost ritualistic combination of karaage and beer? Honestly, canned beer tastes great for the first sip, but when you’re drinking alone at night, finishing a whole can leaves you uncomfortably full. Sake, on the other hand, you can open a bottle and just take a little at a time.”
Watanabe (W): “That’s true, you don’t have to finish the whole bottle once you open it. It’s much more reasonable, too.”
M: “Exactly. Here, try this.”
Marco reached for a junmai daiginjo from Yamagata and poured it straight over sparkling water, without a moment’s hesitation.
W: (one sip) “Oh! It’s like a grown-up cider!”
M: “Daiginjo isn’t cheap, and you’d never drink it this way at a restaurant. But that’s exactly the joy of drinking at home.”
W: “It feels like early summer. Fresh, lively, sparkling.”
M: “The ethyl caproate in daiginjo — that characteristic aroma — tricks your mind into expecting sweetness. There’s no sweetener in it at all, but the scent pulls up a memory of cider, and you taste it as sweet. Daiginjo is clean and elegant and genuinely delicious, but a touch too fragrant to pair easily with food. And drinking it straight, you can get bored of it quite quickly. Mixed with soda, though, something shifts. It becomes a drink that works beautifully alongside a meal. The carbonation cuts through richness, the alcohol drops, and the whole thing is easier on the body.”
A sake now that’s lighter and carbonated, puts us little more at ease. And our mood now is just a little more free and relaxed. They would save the rest for the following night.
Marco＋Watanabe
Marco, a certified sake sommelier (though she prefers to call herself simply a sake lover), and Watanabe of Me Time. Neither approaches sake as critics or connoisseurs. They drink out of pure affection. Cold or warm, what matters is not the alcohol, but the quiet warmth it brings.
About Hinohara
Hinohara is the only village on the mainland of the Tokyo Metropolis, tucked into the mountains roughly two hours west of the city centre. More than ninety percent of its land is forest. The Akigawa River runs cold and clear through the valley. The village has long been shaped by its relationship with the land. Residents grow yuzu, make soba, and maintain traditions tied to mountain life. Today, Hinohara draws visitors seeking hiking, river activities, and a pace the city has long forgotten, while remaining accessible by bus from Musashi-Itsukaichi Station.
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