I love the smell of whiskey in the morning. I didn't think I would but, arriving at 10am under pitiless rain, the sweet and smoky aromas that permeated the Nikka Whisky Yoichi Distillery – which remarkably reached my chronically congested nostrils – were truly comforting. The best way I can describe it is a pleasant version of when cigarette smoke sticks to a car's interior.
Visiting this place and the Sapporo Beer Museum, which I went to that afternoon, was the genesis for my stay in Sapporo. Anyone who's been following my journey through Japan on a map will realise that coming here from Okinawa is totally nonsensical. However, this is the only day I could get a slot and, with other parts of my trip already booked, it was the route I had to take. Besides, always up for an adventure, I liked the idea of flying in for the day to do an epic drinking crawl, hopeful that I might imbibe some culture and history in addition to copious amounts of alcohol. Many more drinking puns where that came from.
The day started off reasonably civilised. I joined a group tour of the distillery, aided by a helpful English audio guide that explained the production process. It drew attention to the suitability of Yoichi's climate and its similarity to Scotland's which, given the relentless downpour, I didn't have a hard time believing.
And then the drinking commenced. We were ushered into the tasting room where we were each given three preselected samples to try: a single malt, a blend and apple wine. The setting was great, with mounted screens playing old adverts from the 70s and 80s being a particularly cool touch. I started with the single malt – absolutely sublime – saving the apple wine for a nice, sweet note on which to end. Except it didn't end there, because I then went to the museum which, being Nikka, was fitted with a fully-stocked bar. Enticed by the offer of “exclusive” products that aren't sold outside of the distillery, I indulged in a few more here. Each one was seemingly better than the next, though by now my judgment was almost certainly compromised.
Feeling at this point that I should probably try to sober up, I stopped for lunch at the restaurant where, lo and behold, more whiskey on offer. All of this was terribly good fun until the two-hour bus journey back to Sapporo began to dawn on me. I downed a few glasses of water, positing that sharper mental faculties for reduced bladder control was a manageable trade-off (it wasn't) and set off for phase two of my adventure.
After a nice schluf on the bus, I arrived at the Sapporo Beer Museum raring to go. Those well acquainted with my brother will know that his world revolves primarily – sometimes, I despair exclusively – around three things: pints, lads and football. And whilst I can feel my blood temperature rising at the thought of him rejoicing about my afternoon spent at a brewery as some sort of validation of his feckless existence, I want to make it abundantly clear that this is as far as the analogy goes: there was no mention of football and interactions with lads were strictly kept to a minimum. Moreover, I did not do “negative culture” as he so often boasts upon returning from his boys' trips, taking time to walk around the museum and quench my thirst for knowledge as well as tasty libations. So not a word of it Danny!
In fact, putting my historian's cap on for a moment, Sapporo Beer is actually a fascinating case study of Japan's modernisation efforts in the late nineteenth century. It was earmarked as one of thirty projects to develop industry in Hokkaido as part of the government's drive to catch up technologically with the West. Japanese were sent to Berlin to study German brewing techniques and Western advisors were enlisted to oversee the development process. Although this example was fairly innocuous, the broader drive to achieve greater global influence comprised a significant military component and a concomitant desire to use it for territorial aggrandisement – which would ultimately set Japan on a path to confrontation with the Western powers and, eventually, war. A little bloodier than the typical beer-induced scuffle you'd see outside a Wetherspoons.
The tour unsurprisingly ended with a tasting, which included a lesson on the “proper” way to pour a beer. Having been lambasted by friends and family alike for my overly frothy pours, I want to tell you all now that this victory tastes as sweet as the Sapporo Black Label I sampled. The guide nominated me (I may have volunteered) for an additional beer tasting to compare the difference between a regular pour and the recommended technique. Just about holding it together, I mustered a few incoherent platitudes about its refreshing taste and lightness on the palate, for which I undeservedly received a round of applause and, to my dismay, another beer. I guzzled it down, promptly exiting before I could be invited to pontificate on anything else I knew so little about.
The stumble back to my hotel provided ample opportunity to take in the city. There were plenty of tempting bars but, in a rare moment of sound judgement, I opted for an early night before my flight to Osaka the following morning. I'd had enough to drink for one day.