Izumi Is the Brewer Behind Toronto’s Sake Scene

A kurabito (brewer) at Izumi Sake Company is coaxing out the first press of sake at Izumi Brewery. Just 25 days ago, the liquid started as rice and spring water, but now, bright, slightly cloudy arabashiri (first-press sake) is flowing freely from the press and into a waiting cup. The kurabito takes a gleeful sip – sake this fresh tastes glorious.

In a city of craft breweries, Izumi was the first – in all of North America, actually – to make sake. When Izumi opened its doors in 2011, it set into motion a quiet surge of sake lovers, converting everyone along the way. “Half the people who walk in these doors have never tried sake before,” says owner Ken Valvur. “Others come from a long way away specifically for us.”

A Canadian native, Valvur went to Japan and fell in love with a beautifully fresh, unpasteurized form of sake called namazake. But when he returned to Canada, he found that it wasn’t available due to the country’s strict import laws. His solution? Make it here.

Valvur enlisted Yoshiko Takahashi – a renowned sake expert and one of only 30 female toji (lead brewers) in the world – to mentor a team of kurabito. The workers follow a strict, religious regimen shared by all Japanese sake makers. They report for duty just after the sun rises and nod to a small shrine in the brewing room before clocking out for the day. While the traditions were born in Japan, the taste is all made in Canada.

It’s the terroir of the country that molds the flavors of Izumi’s sake. Water comes from a freshwater spring that flows from the metamorphic rock of the Canadian Shield. Surprisingly, Muskoka Springs has almost identical alkalinity and iron levels as the famed Fushimi Springs in Kyoto, a region renowned for its sake.

The rice – which is sourced from California – is milled, washed, steamed and then hoisted onto wooden platforms to cool. The doors of the brewery are then thrown open, beckoning in breezes from the outside to help cool down the rice while the kurabito spread it by hand. While Japanese breweries operate only in winter, Izumi operates year-round. The flux in temperature plays into the flavors. Each batch of arabashi is defined by the moment it is pressed; Batch 155, born during a blizzard, tasted of white peach, while Batch 157, pressed on a bluebird day, gave hints of nuts and lime.

In the winter, Izumi heats sake with maple syrup and local cider, and in the summer, Momofuku carries a sake slushie spiked with togarashi (Japanese chili). To reflect the variety of drinkers, Izumi also bottles sake cocktails. “They’re very approachable beverages,” explains Valvur. The Sakepolitan is a rosy-hued riff on a cosmo, while the yuzu sake Collins is a bright and effervescent liquid homage to Japanese highball culture.

With Izumi leading the charge, Toronto has developed a refined, nuanced relationship with sake. In the past two years alone, the city has welcomed a wave of wonderfully ambitious bicultural bars that range from bare-bones sake houses to sterling cocktail destinations. For Japanophiles and everyday drinkers alike, the following are the most transportive places in Toronto for perfect sake pours.