iichiko Silhouette Shōchū 焼酎

I was asked recently if I'd like to try a sample of shochu from Japan. The nice thing about e-mail is that I got the opportunity to figure out what shochu is before replying. While the name was vaguely familiar, I knew nothing about the distilled spirit, and initially confused it with some horror stories about baijiu from friends that have spent a lot of time in China. I was very mistaken.

Shōchū (焼酎) is not saké, but instead is a sort of mild vodka that originated in Persia and made its way to Japan by the 16th century. Unlike the usual 40% common with gin, rum, whiskey, and vodka, shochu is usually just 25% alcohol and is often further diluted with water or tea. Sometimes hot, sometimes cold.

This is the entry level shochu from Japan's best selling producer, Sanwa Shurui Co., Ltd., who only began making it in 1979 as an offshoot of their saké production. The name iichiko is the Kyushu dialect variant of ichiban, meaning "number one" in English. Throughout this review I'll keep it in all lowercase as it appears on all of the promotional material, and also because Iichiko looks a bit confusing in many fonts.

iichiko Silhouette Shōchū
Ōita Prefecture, Japan
Distilled from barley
$23, 25% abv.

I tried it straight at room temperature. It's milder than you initially expect, with just a little bite on the back end. There's a slight nuttiness combined with a hint of citrus. Oddly, it reminds me of certain brown ales even though it is nothing like beer. Imagine distilling the essence of just the notes that are in the background, and that's what this is like.

I'm in general not a fan of warm alcoholic beverages, but one of the many ways shochu is enjoyed is with iced oolong tea. (I'm more of a tea drinker than a coffee drinker, though I rarely write about the former.) With a 3:2 ratio of tea to shochu and the addition of ice, you're getting a pretty mild beverage.

This was delicious. The oolong I picked up was particularly earthy and vegetal, two aromas that I adore. The shochu brightens it up a bit, and while it's obvious that there is a distilled spirit in the glass, it's not overpowering. Quite tasty, and highly recommended for my fellow southerners who want a fun way to enjoy this product that is starting to get quite popular in certain parts of the country.

Note: This bottle was provided as a sample.

T

For Christmas, Julia got me an assortment of gitfts including some looseleaf tea and a strainer from Teavana. Here you're looking at the Celestial Temple blend, a Chinese high-elevation mix of black tea leaves.

I am not a tea expert or a snob. While I appreciate using a tea ball or other device like this strainer for using looseleaf, 99% of my tea consumption in my lifetime has been via bags. At work I mostly use bags of green tea, herbal tea, or Earl Grey depending on my mood and the season. I often head to the coffee maker and hear a yelp of "It's not ready yet" when I'm just siphoning off some hot water from the release valve on top of the machine. That's what the spigot is for, people.

In fact, for the past week I've had a little seasonal sinus trouble, and a gentle green tea with the perfect amount of dried orange peel made the start to each day so much happier.

At right you see a double dose of the Celestial Temple in the Teavana strainer, resting in a Pyrex measuring cup. Normally you just use a mug for a single serving, but I wanted to capture the color of the tea while it was steeping. The tea is rich and aromatic, with notes of flowers and honey. It's nice because you get a full-bodied brew and the requisite caffeine kick but with great complexity and interesting aromas that will be fun for the wine enthusiast.

I do have to mention that growing up in Memphis, tea was one of my earliest beverages and one of the first things I learned how to make. Though always in the iced form. Brew four bags in a half gallon of water for five minutes, remove bags, add a quarter cup of sugar, let cool, pour into pitcher and cover. The alternative was reserved for holidays: essentially an Arnold Palmer called "Payne Tea" after my Mom's maiden name. We would squeeze lemons and make pulpy gallons of this beverage and, to this day, none of us have ever suffered from scurvy.

High school got me into hot tea, partially as an extension of Anglophilia but also as a desire to try as many different culinary traditions as possible. Celestial Seasonings was widespread at the time and I had a blast working my way through their boxes of teabags. A night with the South American "Morning Thunder"/yerba mate was a transcendental experience of listening to trance radio and not sleeping for 36 hours. But these days, I approach tea in a much different way. I don't add milk or sweeteners or anything else. Just the leaves, in water slightly lower than boiling, and sip at the temperature that makes me the happiest. Sure, I get some weird stares occasionally and people wonder why I'm looking at my watch for a few minutes before I drink something, but the ritual and the swirling of the colors in the water always make me happy, whether at work, or sitting in an airport, or crouched on top of a mountain where it's taken forever to get the water up to temperature. As you sip the tannic liquid you can reflect upon centuries of British tradition and more centuries of Chinese/Indian agriculture, or you can simply accept the caffeine hit, let your belly get happy from the warmth, and be glad about the whole process... until the mug goes cold and it's time to start over.

The Omnivore's Hundred

Recently (i.e. months ago) various blogs have been posting about the The Omnivore's Hundred, a list of foods you ought to try before they start measuring you for the last suit you'll ever wear. You can go to the link to see all of them, and at the bottom of this post you can see the ones I haven't tried yet. Between my first draft and this entry, I knocked two easy ones off the list:

2. Nettle tea
Nettle tea smells exactly like cleaning off the blade on your lawnmower. It's that fermented Bermuda grass smell that lasts on your hands for days afterward. As a Southerner who first mowed the yard at the age of six (approximately two hours after growing tall enough to grasp the handle bar of Dad's beloved Snapper), this scent evokes pleasant memories. Others may not have the same reaction. I like the flavor as well, which is pretty mild considering there's no caffeine or tannins.

It is also supposed to help with gout and menstrual cramps, but never having suffered from either I can't make any claims regarding its efficacy as a natural medicine.

You can find this nettle tea at my Amazon Store or in the Memphis area at Whole Foods.

79. Lapsang souchong
This is a smoked tea from southeast China. The tea leaves are placed on mats or mesh and smoked over pine logs. Supposedly this is one of those binary foods: you either hate it or you love it. I picked up a tin of loose leaves (hence the need for a metal tea ball) and went two weeks before trying a cup. When you peel back the foil seal, you are hit with a powerful smoke aroma. Leave a pile of this in someone's house and they'll swear that something is on fire.

When I mustered up the courage to brew a pot, I followed the instructions and steeped the leaves in my little tea ball and poured myself a cup--straight, no sugar or lemon. The aroma was still powerful and smoky, but this time I got to appreciate it better. And as we all know, scent is the most powerful connection to old memories.

When I was in Scouts, we packed our gear and clothes into Army surplus duffel bags. Clean clothes would be carefully packed in plastic bags and layered, and later dirty clothes would be crammed in however possible. Upon returning home, I'd normally grab a shower and get something to eat before tackling the laundry, and after getting clean and breathing fresh air, I would be overwhelmed by the strong aromas of wood smoke, earth, and various other scents. A cup of lapsang souchong smells exactly like that.

Here's a word of thanks to my dear mother who frequently had to handle laundry after such camping trips, and out of respect for those horrors I will keep this tea far away from her. And while she would only have negative associations from this aroma, it dredges up a hundred wonderful memories for me, and I found myself able to remember the crisp smells of winter in Missouri and the steamy humidity of an Arkansas summer and dozens of other campsites around the country.

Despite the strong smell, this tea doesn't taste smoky. It's not any more bitter than standard black tea, and is actually quite mild. I can't imagine drinking it iced, and I never tried it sweetened, but I've really enjoyed a cup late in the afternoon or evening where I can sit and be whisked back to my youth.

Twinings is the most commonly available version in the states. I got it at Kroger, and you can also purchase lapsang souchong from my Amazon Store. Teabag styles are available as well.

And now, the 21 things I haven't tried... Though rest assured, I'll find a way to grind through most of this list in an effort to broaden the palate. Local readers: recommend some places to find some of these!

6. Black pudding
8. Carp
16. Epoisses
25. Brawn, or head cheese
30. Bagna cauda
37. Clotted cream tea
43. Phaal
46. Fugu
50. Sea urchin
52. Umeboshi
59. Poutine
63. Kaolin
64. Currywurst
65. Durian
74. Gjetost, or brunost
75. Roadkill
76. Baijiu
84. Tasting menu at a three-Michelin-star restaurant.
89. Horse
93. Rose harissa
100. Snake