Amazake

Amazake is most often associated with winter in modern Japanese people's mind. It is a sweet drink made from koji and rice. Just like malted drinks like Horlicks are associated with cold winter nights, amazake, with its comforting sweetness has a distinct place in every Japanese child's holiday experiences. It is what you drink in winter vacation. It is what you drink on 3rd of March, for girls' festival.

Historically, amazake was a summer drink. It gave quick energy fix for those who got exhausted in Japanese harsh and enervating summer. When someone seemed to be very sick, people used to make amazake (though that is far before my time).They say it was pretty much used like a drip in those days.

I still remember my childhood new year's eve visits to our local Shinto shrines. It was always dry, windy, and biting cold. As a child I was excited to stay awake until midnight. There was a bonfire and a big cauldron full of amazake. Everyone was offered a sip, though I remember my grandfather politely requesting "the one which is clearer" (i.e. sake, proper alcoholic stuff, rather than sweet non-alcoholic amazake)

The enzyme from koji ( Aspergillus oryzae ) breaks down starch in rice porridge.  It develops very distinct koji flavour and strong sweetness. When sugar was scarce, amazake was one of those rare treats children had.

But it meant a lot more for farmers.

Home brewing is illegal in Japan. I will talk about it later, but let it suffice here to say that there was a time before the Second World War when being found out brewing your own alcohol meant hefty fine. And let me add that the farmers (including my grandfather) never really had a lot of money to buy sake, but a lot of rice at hand.

"Well, you know, people make Doburoku (unrefined, often moonshine, sake) in early March, really." I remember him saying that when he was still alive. And it was always 'people', never 'we' or 'I'.
Why is that? I asked.

"Well, you know, everyone makes amazake for their daughters in March, right? Some of those amazake might start fermenting quite naturally without anyone doing anything to it, right? Or at least people can say that if they got caught, right?"

It always makes me smile to think of those hearty farmers looking at policemen with feigned  astonishment. "Oh, dear, did our amazake go alcoholic?! What a waste! Wouldn't you agree?"