How a Kasumi Club tasting works, and how to score one

A sake tasting sounds more formal than it is. Nobody is being tested and there is no vocabulary you need before you walk in. Knowing the shape of the evening in advance does make the first one better, mostly because you spend it drinking rather than working out what is expected.

The shape of the night

Bottles get poured one at a time. Before each one, Jacob tells the room what it is and who made it: the brewery, where it is, the rice, how far it was milled, and whatever the brewer or importer has told us about why they make it the way they do. Then everybody tastes it and scores it before the next one comes out.

The story comes first because it is half of what there is to learn. A kimoto starter that takes four weeks, a nama that was never heated, a brewery run by the twelfth generation of the same family: you taste those things differently once you know to look for them, and the brewers who send us bottles deserve to have their story told to the people drinking it.

It was not always done this way. Our first tasting, in June 2026, was poured blind, with the labels in numbered bags until every card was in. A nigori brewed in Oregon finished first that night, ahead of four Japanese breweries and a kimoto from Nagano made with a four week starter. Those six scores are on the score sheet with that note attached.

The four things you score

Overall impression, out of 5. This is the number that gets published on the score sheet and on the bottle's own page. Score how much you want another glass of it. Do not score how impressive you think it is, or how good the story was.

Complexity. Whether the sake changes between the front of the sip and the end of it, or whether it does one thing and stops. Neither answer is a fault. A simple sake that does its one thing beautifully alongside food beats a complicated one that is hard work.

Aroma. What you get from the glass before you drink. Sake aroma is quieter than wine aroma and it rewards a wine glass over a small cup, which is why we pour into wine glasses. Melon, banana, rice, cream, mushroom and wet stone are all things people in the room have said and been right about.

Mouth feel. Weight and texture. Whether it feels thin, silky, syrupy or grippy. Most people find this the easiest one once they stop worrying about vocabulary, and it is often what separates two bottles that smell similar.

Three things worth knowing before your first one

Your score counts the same as everybody else's on your first night. There is no seniority in the room and no house palate to agree with. A first-timer's honest 2 is more useful than an expert's polite 4.

You will disagree with the room and you should say so out loud. Two of the six bottles from June are still argued about. A kimoto from Nagano finished fifth and several of us think that is a scoring error caused by serving it cold, since the brewery says to warm it past 100°F for the sweetness to come out. That argument is written up on its page.

Bring water and something to eat. Several sakes at fifteen to twenty percent add up faster than people expect, and the palate goes long before the evening does.

What happens to the scores

Every bottle gets its own page afterwards with its score, the brewery, the rice, how far it was polished and what the room made of it, whether it won or came last. Specs we could not confirm against a brewery or an importer get left off rather than guessed at.

One night is one night, which is why a disputed score is worth arguing about rather than accepting.

The ones we hear most