Zanpa White Awamori

Cold-brewed sencha, unsweetened. The green tea highball is one of the most common ways shochu is actually drunk in Japan.

A bar spoon, no more. Salt, and the savory note that comes with it.

A drop. Think of it as salt with depth, for the savory glass only.

Cold, and fizzy enough to matter. One part spirit to three or four parts soda for shochu; one to one for sake.

Soft water, cold, over ice or not. One to one is normal. Mix a day ahead (maewari) and the edges round off.

A small green citrus from Tokushima, sharper and more herbal than lime. Sold frozen or as juice in Japanese markets.

A rice-grain amount, dissolved. For the savory, cucumber glass, not the fruit one.

The Japanese citrus that tastes like grapefruit, mandarin and lemon at once, with a floral peel. A little zest or juice goes a long way.

Warm kombu-and-bonito stock, lightly seasoned, mixed with the spirit. It sounds strange and tastes like an oden counter.

A small piece steeped in the bottle overnight. Savory depth without salt.

White miso whisked into a syrup, a small spoon per drink. Salty, sweet and savory at once.

A spoon of the brine, and a slice as garnish. Sweet, sour and hot at once.

A dried shiitake steeped in the spirit for a day. Savory and strange in the best way.

One salted plum, crushed with a spoon in the glass. Salty, sour, savory.

Dolin dry or Noilly Prat. A quarter of the sake's volume, stirred.

Fino or manzanilla. Savory, salty, bone dry.

Montenegro, Nonino, Averna. Equal parts with a dark shochu over ice is a whole drink.

Campari, Aperol, or a Japanese bitter like Kina. The aperitivo hour is where sake and shochu make the most sense as cocktails.

Angostura or a Japanese aromatic. Two dashes.

A few grinds over the top. Aroma more than heat.

Cold-brewed Earl Grey brings bergamot; plain black tea brings tannin. For the aged and brown-sugar bottles.

A few crushed pods, or a syrup. Floral, citrusy and warm at once; it bridges fruit and spice.

A stick in hot water with the spirit, or a light syrup. Winter.

Green tea with popped, toasted rice. Cold-brew it. Comfort in a glass.

Suze or Salers. Bitter root, bright yellow. A little in a highball changes everything.

Fresh juice, a syrup, or a good ginger beer. The spice that makes a low-proof drink feel like it has a backbone.

The gentle ginger. For bottles that a ginger beer would bully.

A spicy one, not a sweet one. The mule format works for every dark shochu and most sake.

Cold-brewed or hot. Roasted green tea, low in bitterness, high in toast. The oyuwari of teas.

Cold-brewed. Floral without sugar. The jasmine highball is a real menu item in Japan.

Oita's citrus, softer than sudachi. Bartenders in Oita mix it with the local barley shochu and soda.

Muddled with the seeds. Green, sour and refreshing, and cheap year round.

Eaten whole, peel and all. Muddle a few in a glass; the peel gives bitterness, the flesh gives tartness.

Whisked into a slurry first, never dumped in dry. Bitter, umami and creamy at once.

Sweet, low-acid Japanese mandarin. Juice it or drop segments in a glass. It needs a squeeze of something sharper alongside.

Cold, unsweetened barley tea. Every Japanese fridge has a pitcher in summer. Mix one to three over ice.

Unsweetened, cold. One part shochu to three or four parts tea, over ice. It is the drink half of Japan orders with dinner.

A pinch of ground sansho over the top, or a few peppercorns steeped. Numbing, citrusy, green.

Dry cava or crémant. Topping sake with it adds the acid and the bubbles sake lacks in one pour.

One star, steeped, for the dark bottles.

The shortcut to a sour when there is no fresh lemon. Less sweet is better.

A pinch in the glass or a half rim. Salt does not make a drink salty in small amounts; it makes it taste more like itself.

A dry tonic (Fever-Tree, Q). One part spirit, three parts tonic, a citrus wedge.

Juiced, or a stalk as the stirrer. Savory, salty and cold.

Ribbons or muddled slices. Cucumber is what turns a glass of sake into something you would drink on a porch.

Young sansho leaves, clapped between the palms and floated. Hard to find outside Japanese markets in spring, worth the hunt.

A dry junmai as the lengthener for rice shochu, one to two. Low proof, all rice.

Green shiso leaves, slapped or muddled gently. Red shiso as a syrup. Japan already makes shiso shochu, which tells you it works.

Good tomato juice, or a ripe tomato muddled and strained. Sake's umami and tomato's are chemically the same thing.

Umeboshi (salt-pickled), ume syrup, or the fruit's own liqueur. Sour, salty and savory at once.

Ripe banana, muddled or as a syrup. The banana note in ginjo sake is real chemistry, not a metaphor.

Orange with a raspberry edge. Winter fruit; worth waiting for.

Coconut water for lengthening, coconut milk or cream for weight.

Cold brew, unsweetened. For barley, brown-sugar, cask-aged and awamori bottles; it will bury a daiginjo.

A quarter ounce. Menthol and bitterness, for the darkest bottles.

Bitter, bright and forgiving. Ruby or white both work; white is drier. The grapefruit sour is a real bar order in Japan, not a novelty.

Hot water in the glass first, spirit poured on top so it mixes itself. Around 40C in the glass is the sweet spot. This is not the only way, it is one way.

Fresh in early summer, canned in syrup the rest of the year (drain it). The signature aroma of a whole school of imo shochu.

Ripe mango puree. Needs lime beside it or it goes flat.

Fresh orange juice for a sparkling sake mimosa; the peel for stirred drinks with aged bottles.

The most useful tropical fruit for mixing: intensely aromatic and properly sour. Pulp with seeds, or a good puree.

A rim of shichimi, or a slice of fresh chili. Heat on fruit, not on rice.

A split bean in a syrup, or a good extract, in small amounts.

A plain or ginger kombucha. It brings acid, bubbles and funk, all things sake is short of.

Fresh juice, never bottled. The building block of the lemon sour, and the fastest way to give sake the acidity it does not have on its own.

A sesame syrup, or a rim of ground sesame and salt. Toasty and rich.

The neutral sweetener. Use when you want to balance acid without adding a flavor.

Fresh in season, dried the rest of the year. Apricot and umeshu share a family, which is why they get along.

Muddled gently with citrus. Thai basil brings anise, Italian basil brings pepper.

Muddled, or as a syrup. Mild; bring acid from elsewhere.

A bar spoon. Cassis-oolong is one of the most common izakaya orders in Japan.

Cold-brewed chamomile as a lengthener, or steeped in the spirit.

Fresh in early summer; morello or amarena in syrup otherwise. Dark cherry for aged bottles, bright cherry for sparkling.

Unsweetened juice. Sharp and a little tannic, useful for cutting sweetness.

St-Germain or similar. A half ounce is enough.

Fresh figs muddled, or fig jam. For the aged and the brown-sugar bottles only.

Cold-brewed hibiscus tea: sour, cranberry-red and floral. Acid and color in one pour.

Diluted one to one with warm water so it mixes cold. A little goes far; taste before adding more.

Bruised stalks steeped in the spirit, or a syrup. Citrus without acid, which is useful when you want aroma but not sourness.

Torn leaves steeped briefly. Perfumed citrus without juice.

Dark, in small amounts, for the cask and sweet-potato bottles.

Cointreau or a dry curaçao. The sweet-and-citrus half of any sour.

Dried osmanthus flowers steeped, or the syrup. Apricot and honey, and the smell of October in Japan.

Ripe pear, muddled or as nectar. Delicate, so it belongs with delicate bottles.

Sour enough to be useful. Muddle a handful, or use a good puree.

Salt-pickled blossoms (rinsed) or sakura syrup. Floral, faintly almond, a touch of salt.

Sweet, sour, almondy. A splash does the work of both syrup and citrus.

The Korean-style yuzu preserve sold in jars. A spoon in hot water with shochu, or shaken cold.

Fresh juice, strained. Add a pinch of salt.