My dad got home from Ontario today, and I foolishly thought this meant I’d have my choice of two typists. But they were busy reuniting. Go figure—ten years together and my parents are still into each other. It is totally disgusting.
A toast, therefore, with something almost undrinkable: TAKARA SHO CHIKU BAI SAKE. No mistake about it, this California sake is rough stuff. Fail to heat it sufficiently and its vulgarity will hit you as full-frontally as two nauseating parents who forget to shut the door. You want this stuff almost hot so you can’t taste it, but not hot enough that you’re sacrificing booze unnecessarily to the angels (who might barf it back at you—if I were an angel with a sake predilection I’d hang out over Japan, for crying out loud, not California).
Does TAKARA SHO CHIKU BAI SAKE have any sort of flavor? you might wonder. There is detectable fruit in this sake, accompanied by sharp paint-thinner notes. If you make an effort not to discern any subtleties, you’ll find that it just tastes like booze, and therefore I recommend it. There are certainly worse ways to ingest 15% alcohol.