Most of the servers at Ototo, a sake bar in Los Angeles, start their jobs with the same amount of sake knowledge as the average American—next to nothing. Ototo’s co-owner and beverage director Courtney Kaplan doesn’t see this as a hindrance, but rather, the reason why her team is so good at helping diners navigate a menu full of terms like junmai, honjozo, kimoto and nama genshu.
“A year ago, [servers] were in the exact same position as our guests, so they can speak on the same level,” says Kaplan.
For as long as sake as been imported and brewed here in the U.S., its technical aspects—the rice variety, polishing rate, water source, yeast type, fermentation method and more—remain difficult for many American drinkers to grasp. Sake has an accessibility problem in the U.S., and there’s a case that Kaplan’s service style at Ototo is an antidote. Her menu avoids much traditional terminology in favor of more tangible descriptions. She compares one bottle to grapefruit-flavored Lacroix and another to watermelon Skittles. “We want to make sake fun, and not intimidating or scary, because I think sometimes it can be a little stressful [to order],” she says.
The approach at Ototo is part of a broader movement to demystify sake for Americans. For Kaplan, getting guests to order an unfamiliar bottle of sake advances her ultimate goal—showing off just how dynamic and versatile the drink can be. But for Japanese brewers, it’s a potential solve for an existential problem. Sake
This Article was originally published on Wine Enthusiast
