Sakado

That night at the "Chūnagon" restaurant in Osaka, Ise lobsters shone amber on a ceramic plate. Their shells curled into artistic arcs under the high heat, seemingly preserving the memory of the ocean waves. As chopsticks gently sliced through the snow-white flesh, the springy meat transformed into a sweet surge of flavor on the palate—the taste of the Seto Inland Sea awakening on the taste buds. But what truly haunted the memory was the shochu infused with lobster heads. The unglazed ceramic cup was warm and smooth, the liquor clear as melting snow. The initial aroma was the characteristic rich rice fragrance of shochu, but upon closer tasting, one could detect the mineral notes emanating from the lobster head after roasting. It wasn't fishy; it was like moonlight left on rocks after the tide had receded, the oceanic soul condensed from crustacean life. The first sip was burning like embracing the warm sun, the second sweet like a mountain spring flowing over mossy stones, and the third even tasted the amber hues of autumn. The lobster's freshness was reborn in the flames, achieving a mysterious reconciliation with Kyushu rice shochu. This glass of sake contains the twinkling lights of a fishing bay at night, the warmth of Bizen ware clay passed down through generations, and the focused, almost meditative expression of a master craftsman as he dips a lobster head into the sake bottle. As the warmth of the sake slowly sinks from the throat into the lower abdomen, the lobster feast suddenly reaches its final sublimation within the body. The umami flavor within the shell infuses the broth, and what would otherwise be discarded is given new life through the artisan's skillful touch. Only then do you understand that true exquisite flavor lies not on the tongue, but in the lingering resonance between food and sake in the soul. That glass of lobster shochu made the entire Osaka night as warm and gentle as jade, and transformed a dinner into the most beautiful tribute to the cycle of life.