一If you drink sake
You will find out what you like, and why.
Most of the interesting sake arriving in America goes to restaurants in New York and Los Angeles, or to distributors moving it by the pallet. What is left for a D.C. shelf is the safe middle of the category. We go looking past it, by writing to breweries and importers and asking for the bottle they are proudest of.
What lands in front of you on a given night ranges from a bottle any shop here can order to things that took a month of letters to get hold of. Undiluted sake straight off the press, unpasteurized bottles that rarely survive a normal supply chain, and starters that take four weeks instead of two all turn up. Jacob tells the room what each one is and who brewed it before it is poured, because knowing how a bottle was made is half of what there is to learn.
The part people do not expect is how much you learn. You hear who made each bottle and how, you taste it, you argue about it with twenty or thirty other people, and by the end of the night you can name what you like and why. That is the thing you take home, and it works in any shop, in any city, for the rest of your life.
Kasumi means mist. We named the club after the cloudy nigori that nobody here will stop talking about.