Keir Graff

Last August, I served as best man at the wedding of a close friend and fellow alcohol researcher. The bride, an American who'd grown up in China, had arranged a traditional Chinese wedding banquet. Course after course of delicious dishes covered the table until, at the end, the only thing left to consume was a traditional drink of maotai. Previously, I'd thought that the drink most akin to gasoline was cheap mezcal, but here I found I was mistaken: It is maotai, a ferocious grain alcohol, that is the liquor cousin to petroleum. A single cupful of the 150-proof firewater cauterized my palate and threatened to ignite a liver already inflamed by the previous night's bachelor party.

In honor of the Year of the Dragon, it seems high time to once again orient myself away from the occidental. You can get maotai at Szechwan East, as well as kao liang, a potent liquor made from sorghum, and shao hsing, a rice wine that tastes like sherry with strong herbal overtones. Owner Alfred Hsu says availability is inconsistent, but he stocks it when he can. You can buy bottles in the gift shop, or sample smaller portions at the bar. This maotai is only 106 proof, but bring your fire extinguisher just in case.

Suntory Yamazaki, a Japanese single-malt whiskey, is one of the few hard liquors from the Far East to be found in local liquor stores, along with one of the best sakes available, Momokawa Diamond, which is produced in the United States For a chaser, I choose a classic of Japanese packaging: a six-pack of Sapporo beer, each can a hearty 4.5 ounces. One reason many of us drink is to achieve a pleasurable sense of confusion, and it's a free buzz just to contemplate Japanese Scotch, Oregonian sake and a Lilliputian six-pack.

Though beer is, of course, widely brewed and drunk in Asia, it's a relative newcomer. Many nations have fermented beverages they call "beer" (like one made with coconut milk in Sri Lanka), but beer as we know it was -- surprise -- largely introduced by Westerners. Commodore Perry's boats took beer to Japan in 1853, and in 1869 Americans founded a brewery at Yokohama (which became Kirin). Guinness has been exporting to Asia since the late 1880s. And the Germans started beer hopping in China in the late 1800s, when they occupied the port of Tsingtao, giving rise to what is today the best-known Chinese beer. It was a German brewmaster, too, who created Thai Singha in the 1930s.

The Chinese and Japanese are in charge of their own brewing destinies now, however, and although per capita Asian beer consumption is still low, demand is rising. Japanese beers are fuller-bodied than U.S. macrobrews, though generally light-bodied in the pilsner style. The popular black beers appear to have been inspired by a Bavarian brewing tradition; for a range of tastes, sample Singha, Tsingtao, Kirin lager, Kirin stout, Sapporo black beer and Asahi Super Dry, which is so dry it feels like it's drawing moisture from your mouth. By the time I've contemplated all this, the wee sixer is gone, leaving nothing but beer breath and fond memories.

That the Japanese are master adapters is undeniable -- just look at what happened to American TV manufacturers. Sake is another example, having been developed from less refined, ancient wines of China. Though it tastes like wine and isn't foamy, sake is brewed from a grain, and more "beer" than wine. It's coming into its own as a gourmet beverage, too; the aforementioned Oregon venture not only brews classic sakes but such arguable innovations as hazelnut sake.

There are a variety of sake designations; the most important has to do with the size of the rice used to make it. Rice is milled to remove the outer shell, which is thought to add undesirable flavors, aromas and hangovers. (Incidentally, many Asian liquors -- like Korean Hanju -- advertise themselves as "no hangover," a claim the ATF might not allow stateside.) Sake is best drunk young, and not long after the bottle is opened. And, contrary to popular belief, it's not always served warm; heating was once used to mask inferior sake, but actually caught on. I chill. As sake goes, the Momokawa is quite good, but its slightly sour, austere taste isn't for me. Like Japanese beers, the overriding effect of cleanness makes it best suited for accompanying food -- sushi sounds perfect -- and I'm not eating.

I'm ready for robust flavor, and I find it in the whiskey. Aged twelve years, this is really a fine quaff. Suntory has been distilling whiskey since 1923, and bottling single malts since the 1980s. Though it's not as appealing to me as a Scotch of the same price, and lacks the depth, complexity, peat and brine of same, it's very good. There's a not-unappealing woodiness, and if its afterburners fade a little quickly, it provides a really pleasurable first impression.

Though I haven't heard of any Chinese distilleries, it must be said that the Chinese enjoy cognac quite a bit, and include a bottle of VSOP at special occasions. "Gan bei" is the most common Chinese toast, meaning "dry glass" -- or, drink it all. And the Japanese say the same, "kampai." Watch this space -- next New Year I'll try to procure some real rocket fuel. Until then, gan bei!

Szechwan East, 340 East Ohio, (312)255-9200 (02/17/2000)


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