The Sake I Didn’t Expect: From Kyoto to La Bidule

One glass in Japan, a discovery that reminded me of my first real encounter with wine, and the desire to bring sake to Treviglio for what it truly is.

In spring 2024, Pietro and I travelled to Japan.

In Kyoto, we had dinner at a Michelin-starred omakase restaurant, and during the meal I was served a Junmai Daiginjo in a wine glass.

I do not remember that moment because it felt “exotic”, or because it was the first time I had ever tasted sake.

I remember it because it surprised me.

There was an aromatic complexity in the glass that I had not expected. More than that, something kept changing as I drank it.

As time passed, the sake opened up, evolved and revealed different nuances.

It immediately brought back a feeling I had experienced years earlier with wine.

That moment when you realise that what you have in front of you is not simply a drink.

It is a whole world.

And that was when I decided I wanted to understand it better.

From a Glass in Kyoto to Studying Sake

Once back in Italy, I decided to study sake seriously and enrolled in the Sake Sommelier Association programme.

I expected to learn mainly about different styles, production methods and classifications.

And I did.

But the most important discovery was something else:

sometimes sake can go where wine struggles to go.

During the course, for example, we paired a Nigori sake with giardiniera, the traditional Italian pickled vegetables.

The strong acetic acidity of the giardiniera makes pairing it with wine quite difficult.

The Nigori, on the other hand, softened that sharpness, worked with it and created a surprisingly balanced combination.

For me, that was one of the moments when I truly understood just how complete sake can be as a drink at the table.

Not simply a curious alternative to wine.

Something with an identity entirely of its own.

Sake Is Not What Many People Think It Is

When we talk about sake with people who come into La Bidule, we still come across two very common misconceptions.

The first is that sake is a distilled spirit.

It is not.

Sake is brewed from rice and water through the action of koji and yeast.

The second is that sake should only be served hot.

That is not true either.

Some sake can be enjoyed gently warmed, others at room temperature, while many are at their best served chilled.

Ginjo and Daiginjo sake, for example, are generally appreciated at lower temperatures, helping to preserve their balance and aromatic character.

Many people probably still associate sake with the small cup of very hot sake sometimes served at the end of a meal in Japanese restaurants.

But the world of sake is far broader than that.

Why Sake Can Feel Even Stranger If You Know Wine Well

Paradoxically, people who know wine particularly well can sometimes find their first encounter with sake even more disorienting.

Sake speaks a different sensory language.

Its acidity is generally much lower than that of wine, while umami plays a far more significant role.

For an Italian palate accustomed to reading freshness, acidity and structure through wine, the first sip can feel almost unfamiliar.

We often see this at La Bidule too.

The first sip surprises.

Then the sake stays in the glass, its temperature changes, and it begins to open up.

And very often, sip after sip, the person drinking it starts to appreciate it more and more.

That is perhaps one of the things that fascinates me most.

The pleasure of discovery does not necessarily arrive all at once.

Sometimes you simply have to give it a few minutes.

Sake at the Table — Even Without Sushi

Another misconception I would love to move beyond is the idea that sake belongs only with Japanese food.

During my studies, I discovered just how versatile it can be with ingredients and dishes that have very little to do with Japan.

Cheese is one of the examples that surprised me most.

There is no single perfect pairing, of course. But when the style of sake and the right cheese meet, the result can be extraordinary.

And there is a reason for that.

The richness of umami in sake opens up a wide range of possibilities at the table, making it an interesting partner for cheese, cured meats, vegetables and many other non-Japanese dishes.

That is exactly where I would like to take things.

I would love to see the day when someone at La Bidule orders a glass of sake with cheese, a pinsa or one of our dishes with the same naturalness with which they would choose wine today.

How We Choose Sake at La Bidule

When we choose a sake, we are not looking for extremes.

We are not interested in bringing in difficult products simply to prove how unusual or complex the sake world can be.

First of all, we look for quality.

Then we consider how easy or difficult the bottle is to find, value for money, its ability to work with food and how much it adds to the variety of our existing selection.

We want every sake to bring something new without becoming a test of courage for the person tasting it.

One sake that represents this idea particularly well for me is Morishima Junmai Daiginjo Omachi.

I find it elegant, balanced, complex and, above all, incredibly enjoyable to drink.

Its combination of elegance, freshness and suitability at the table is very close to the way I want to present sake at La Bidule.

Why We Serve Sake in a Wine Glass

At La Bidule, we serve sake predominantly chilled and always in a wine glass.

Starting at a lower temperature also allows you to follow the way it changes as it gradually approaches room temperature.

And a wine glass gives the aromas more space to reveal themselves over time.

Traditional Japanese vessels and serving styles are beautiful and essential to understanding sake culture, but wine glasses can also work particularly well in a modern tasting context, especially with aromatic styles such as Ginjo and Daiginjo.

For me, it ultimately means one thing:

giving sake the time and space it needs to tell its story.

The Feeling I Would Like You to Experience

If someone walks into La Bidule having never tasted sake before, I do not want them to leave having memorised ten Japanese words.

I would rather they leave with a new question.

With the feeling that there is something else worth discovering.

With that small sense of surprise that makes you think:

“I had no idea sake could be like this.”

In the end, that is exactly what happened to me in that omakase restaurant in Kyoto.

I had a glass in front of me.

And suddenly I realised there was an entire world inside it.

If I can give even one person that same feeling, then all the work we are doing with sake at La Bidule already feels worthwhile.