I’m sitting at the bar of the Edition Hotel in Tokyo sipping a glass of whisky poured over one exquisitely clear ice cube, par for the course at any upscale Japanese drinking establishment. The reason I’m here isn’t just to ponder how the flavor opens up and changes as the whisky is slowly diluted by this piece of frozen art; I’m here to interview Hiromi Ozaki, chief blender for Nikka Whisky, on what is a very special occasion. Nikka, the second biggest Japanese whisky company after Suntory, is celebrating its 90th anniversary this year, and Ozaki is just the seventh person to hold the chief-blender title.
Nikka was founded in 1924 by Masataka Taketsuru after he studied in Scotland and worked at several distilleries. Nikka’s two main distilleries, Yoichi in the north and Miyagikyo in central Japan, produce single malt modeled after the Scotch that Taketsuru cut his teeth on nearly a century ago. But unlike Scotch, up until recently Japanese whisky did not have the strict guidelines that define whisky in other countries.
Let us explain: Imagine if that unicorn bottle of bourbon you paid $500 for after scouring every liquor store in a 20-mile radius did not actually contain bourbon but instead was a blend of Irish, Scotch, or—dare I say it—Canadian whisky. That could never happen, because bourbon has been strictly defined since the early 20th century. (Before that, you never knew what you might be drinking.)
Straight bourbon is the most regulated category of whiskey—it must be made in America from a mash bill of at least 51 percent corn and aged in new charred oak containers (virtually always barrels) for a minimum of two years, and no color or flavoring can be added. Irish, Canadian, and Scotch whisky all have their own legal guidelines as well regarding where and how they are made. But Japanese-whisky producers were allowed to play it fast and loose, and some brands imported whisky from other countries—mainly Scotland—to blend and bottle and were still allowed to call it “Japanese whisky.”
Three years ago, a group of producers formed the Japan Spirits & Liqueurs Makers Association and came up with specific rules to define Japanese whisky. (Suntory’s CEO at the time, Hideki Kanda, headed up the group). This came at a time when the category, particularly single malts with age statements, had skyrocketed in value and popularity. Bottles of Yamazaki or Miyagikyo aged for 12 years that once sold for $60 were now going for $300 or more, and blends like Hibiki 17 were discontinued to the chagrin of whisky fans.
The companies blamed this on a shortage due to the sudden increase in demand, and while there’s some truth to that, this was also a good marketing move. Age-statement expressions were soon replaced by non-age-statement alternatives that still cost a pretty penny. Meanwhile, new brands popped up, and some of them released blends that included whisky distilled outside of Japan without disclosing it, while others turned to releasing whisky made from rice, which some argue is essentially aged shochu.
The guidelines set forth by the Japan Spirits & Liqueurs Makers Association in 2021 laid out the definition of Japanese whisky pretty clearly. Fermentation, distillation, maturation of at least three years, and bottling all must take place in Japan; malted grains are to be used, although other cereal grains are allowed; caramel coloring is acceptable. If the whisky doesn’t meet this criteria, it can’t be called Japanese whisky—instead, terms like “world whisky” or “world blend” can be used. These guidelines, which were initially set up for a three-year transition period, took full effect this past April.
The issue is that the rules are voluntary, and there are no repercussions for anyone who chooses not to follow them, rendering the guidelines a well-intentioned but arguably toothless effort.
The biggest Japanese-whisky producer, Suntory, is fully on board with the new regulations and was involved in coming up with the terms. “These new guidelines will bring about more clarity and transparency to the Japanese-whisky industry,” said James Bowker, global advocacy manager for House of Suntory. “[They] are designed to avoid confusion for consumers by clearly defining what ‘Japanese whisky’ is both domestically and in international markets. As a pioneer and leading company dedicated to authenticity, we believe the designation will help uphold the integrity of and further vitalize the industry.”
The point was not to denigrate the concept of a world whisky, especially given how important the art of blending is to Japanese-whisky makers. But it makes sense that what’s in the bottle should be produced in Japan in order to be called Japanese whisky. Suntory even has its own world whisky, Ao, which is a blend of juice from Suntory Global Spirits’ (formerly Beam Suntory) distilleries in Ireland, Canada, America, and Japan, and it’s clearly labeled as such.
Nikka is just as transparent—visit the company’s website and it’s easy to see whether a particular expression meets the definition of Japanese whisky. “I wish everyone would follow the rules—not only members of the association, but everyone,” said Ozaki through an interpreter back at the hotel in Tokyo. “If it’s not working, the next step will be to make it law. Things need to be organized.”
Like Suntory, Nikka uses sourced whiskies in some of its blends, a practice that Ozaki says it will continue to be transparent about. “It doesn’t mean one style is superior to the other. We just see it as Japanese-whisky compliant or noncompliant.”
According to Ozaki, one exception is the rice-whisky category, which in America can be called whisky even if koji, a type of mold used to saccharify shochu, is used. “Whatever is categorized as shochu under Japanese law shouldn’t be called Japanese whisky in other countries,” he said.
Nicholas Pollachi, cofounder and head of global whisky for Shibui Whisky, strongly disagrees with that sentiment. Shibui releases many different styles of whisky, including world blends, single malts, and rice whisky, the last of which Pollachi points out is really the only style made using locally grown raw materials.
“To consider only Japanese malt whisky as Japanese whisky is disingenuous and rooted more in politics than in the reality of how all other world whiskies are created,” he said. “Rice whiskies have an equal if not more authentic history of being categorized as Japanese whisky, as they are based on the grain of Asia and exclusively distilled, matured, and bottled in Asia. The goal should be for Japan to expand the category and offerings of whisky styles from its beautiful country, its multiple distilleries, and the many talented Japanese master blenders.”
Pollachi also takes issue with the fact that the rules for Japanese whisky were written, at least in part, by the head of the biggest Japanese-whisky company, likening it to someone like Jim Beam master distiller Fred Noe coming up with bourbon guidelines. In other words, he believes the rules were set up to protect malt whisky by “those with the most to lose.” Furthermore, he firmly believes that world whisky has a place in the greater world of Japanese whisky.
“World blending was the backbone for Suntory’s whisky fortune as well as still making up about 50 percent of what Nikka sells in the U.S. market today,” Pollachi said. “And the whiskies are exceptional! It’s about making great whisky and letting customers know exactly what they are drinking. Not sure why Japan has such a hard time doing that and, more importantly, wants to discourage a grain [rice] that they actually cultivate better than barley.”
Bowker believes that Japanese whisky could eventually get a legal definition somewhere down the road, a move that Suntory would support. “Typically these designations are born when a category reaches a certain size and maturity,” he said. “So even the nonbinding adoption of ‘Japanese whisky’ is a real milestone in the evolution of our industry. It is feasible that these or similar guidelines become legally binding in the future.”
In the meantime, it’s reasonable to take what a whisky brand says with a grain of salt, without devolving into total paranoia. Just like tequila brands don’t have to disclose if they use less than 1 percent additives, Japanese whisky companies are still operating within the honor system to reveal what’s really inside their bottles. But whether it’s food, booze, or more recently THC products, discerning consumers are increasingly knowledgeable, armed with more facts, and want to know exactly what it is they are consuming. Transparency and regulations are generally accepted as good things, especially when it comes to something like alcohol that, let’s not kid ourselves, is not very good for you. Hopefully the Japanese-whisky category as a whole is one step closer to reaching that goal.
