episode 2
Mastering Tradition, Breaking Boundaries
The UMAi Quest Led by a Fifth-Generation Brewmaster
A moment of quiet awakening
It all began with a casual remark:
“This sake is smooth and tasty. Just like water.”
It was meant as praise.
And yet, something felt… off.
Why, thought the fifth-generation brewmaster, have I poured so much time and heart into crafting something that tastes like water?
In that fleeting moment, something long dormant stirred within him.
A quiet ember—an unspoken curiosity—began to glow once more.
He couldn’t yet name it, but something fundamental had shifted.
From mastering orthodoxy to pursuing his own “UMAi”
As both heir and craftsman, he had walked the path of tradition.
He pursued excellence in what was deemed the “orthodox” approach to sake-making—
Refining his skills, earning gold at Japan’s most prestigious sake competitions.
But one day, he paused.
Was this truly the kind of sake that stirs the heart?
He began to long for something more:
a sake that leaves an imprint in memory,
that gently opens the heart of the drinker.
That desire became the start of a new journey—
not toward perfection, but toward resonance.
A question that led him back to the beginning
As he followed this inner voice, the question grew larger—
until it brought him face-to-face with the roots of his craft.
1847: A founding built on intention
In 1847, his ancestor, Koemon Ito, began brewing sake here in Yokkaichi.
A farmer by trade, he transformed his life’s rhythm into a vocation—
seeking to elevate the daily act of living into something more profound.
He aimed to distill moments of resonance into every drop,
turning sake into a medium of value, of expression.
The legacy of resilience and reinvention
The second and third generations faced a tumultuous era—
Shipping sake by sea to Kanto, enduring wartime closures,
only to rise again with a renewed will to “carry the taste of the land beyond the land.”
They passed on not only their techniques, but also their belief:
“A brewery is sustained not only by water and rice, but by the will of its people.”
The fourth generation revived ginjo-style brewing,
earning national gold medals once more,
deepening their pursuit of quality with the famed Chishaku spring water.
And throughout all these generations,
one question remained ever-present:
What does it mean to make sake?
What do we call delicious?
A question passed down like a whisper
That question is still alive.
It pulses gently in the heart of the brewery—
a quiet rhythm of inheritance,
of dedication not just to a craft,
but to an ongoing inquiry that spans five generations.
Where Life and Brewing Intertwine
A Childhood Steeped in Steam, Dreams, and Fermentation
Winter scents, and the beginning of a dream
For Jun Ito, the fifth-generation brewmaster,
sake brewing wasn’t just a family business—
it was home.
In winter, master brewers from the cold northern region of Nanbu would live under the same roof,
their days and nights spent fermenting the season’s sake.
The family house had two kitchens—one for living, one for brewing.
Daily life and craftsmanship flowed together seamlessly.
As a child, he would help bottle and label the sake,
surrounded by the warm steam and deep aroma of fermentation.
Amid this world, he dreamed—not of tradition,
but of becoming a scientist, an inventor.
A heart driven by imagination and curiosity.
That very spirit now lives on in his role as Brewmaster-Owner:
equal parts artisan and architect of possibility.
From apprentice to craftsman
A sake artisan with the soul of a planner
From master brewers to owner-led brewing
Jun came of age during a turning point—
when the era of external toji (head brewers) was giving way
to a new model: sake brewed by the owners themselves.
He took a bold step by declaring that all of Ito Shuzo’s sake
would be made with rice grown entirely in Mie Prefecture.
Having spent time outside the brewery
— even launching convenience store chains during a business development stint —
he gained the rare ability to bridge creativity and execution.
He became more than a maker—he became a designer of stories.
The spirit inherited, the space reborn
He trained under Nanbu toji from Iwate,
learning not just technique, but their unspoken ethos and rhythm—
a craft handed down by touch, silence, and breath.
From this emerged something deeply personal:
a brewing intuition all his own.
“This brewery shouldn’t be just a place of production,”
he began to believe.
“It can be a place that brews culture itself.”
Thus was born the vision for Bokura—
a space not only to taste sake, but to feel it speak.
“Sake exists to spark conversations.”
“So let the brewery itself become a space that speaks.”
A place where all five senses engage,
where story and flavor merge.
That dream took form as Bokura—
and lives on in every sensory experience we now offer.
A Mirror of the Land, A Sake of the Senses
Crafted with Feeling, Guided by Place
Fermentation rooted in the living land
At Ito Shuzo, every drop of sake begins with rice from Mie Prefecture.
Every brew is a collaboration—between humans and the countless living beings of this region.
“Why do we make sake here, in this land?”
The answer lies in the rice and water.
In the wind and soil.
In the subtle climate.
And ultimately—
in the smiles of the people who drink it.
From sparkling to aged, from luxurious warm sake to rare vintages—
each creation begins not with a recipe,
but with a scene in mind:
“This is the flavor for that moment.”
Sake born not from logic, but from feeling.
A drop infused with a way of life
The brewmaster doesn’t stay only in the cellar.
He also stands at the counter, watching who drinks, when, and how.
He envisions the expressions on people’s faces,
imagines their shared laughter,
and crafts not for praise, but for that unspoken exclamation:
“This… this is UMAi.”
That moment—that sensory memory—
is the heart of his lifelong inquiry.
It began as a question.
It continues as a calling.
Sake as a crystallization of how we live
To question.
To get lost.
To play.
To speak.
Each bottle reflects all of these things—
and more.
The UMAi of Ito Shuzo isn’t a flavor alone.
It is a distilled echo of curiosity, risk, and resonance.
Even today, the brewmaster moves between the brewing room and the storefront—
carrying questions in one hand, and someone’s imagined smile in the other.
He believes in the power of shared moments,
and in sake as a bridge between them.
A philosophy of “listening” to nature
At the heart of it all is the dialogue—
between brewer and rice, between yeast and season.
Not to “perfect” it.
But to “let it speak.”
Not to control, but to guide.
This quiet transformation—from making to revealing—
has become the soul of his brewing.