On the twenty-second of December, 2005, sake from Hakusan received a geographical indication. It was the first. No sake anywhere in Japan had been granted one before it, and everything since has followed this template.

Hakusan city sits on the alluvial fan of the Tetori river, which rises up on the slopes of Mount Hakusan, and the place has a great deal of groundwater running under it. That water has a particular composition: high in calcium, low in potassium.

What that composition does inside a brewing tank is quite specific. Fermentation proceeds gently rather than vigorously, and at the same time the rice dissolves more readily, so the flavor in the grain is drawn out more completely. The result is a sake with body and depth, and that combination is what the region has been producing for a long time.

The junmai ginjo and the ginjo grades carry a restrained fruit aroma with a measured acidity sitting behind it. What struck me while reading the production standard is that the description of the water and the description of the taste turn out to be the same paragraph. The mountain decides the broad character of the drink, and the brewers do their work inside the space that leaves them.