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Behind the Miyasaka Brewery Doors with Masumi Sake


White noren curtains with a black circular logo hang over a dark entrance, partly hiding a person behind them.

Visiting the Miyasaka Brewery, the family brewery that makes Masumi Sake


In January of 2023, while traveling through Nagano Prefecture, I had the opportunity to step behind the scenes at the historic Masumi Sake Brewery in Suwa, Japan. Thanks to (my partner) Andrew's friend and colleague Keith, who (back then) worked for Masumi, we were invited on a tour that isn't typically available to visitors. Instead of experiencing the brewery from a tasting counter (as nice as it is), we were able to walk through the spaces where sake is quietly, meticulously brought to life.


Founded in 1662, Masumi has spent more than 360 years refining its craft and is perhaps best known for developing the famous Association Yeast No. 7, a yeast strain that would go on to influence sake production across Japan. Though the tasting room for Masumi is in the town of Suwa, the Miyasaka brewery sits in Fujimi, outside of Suwa, where cold winters and exceptionally delicious mountain water have made the region well suited to sake brewing for centuries.


Snow was beginning to collect on the surrounding peaks when we visited, and inside the brewery, every room seemed to hold its own temperature, scent, and rhythm.


Blue car waits at a red light on a rural Japanese road, with power lines, snowy mountains, and a Yoggakko-minami sign.

Large pruned pine tree wrapped with straw and support ropes in a garden under a clear blue sky

Sake, in Japanese, is the general word for alcohol. More specifically, Nihonshu is the word for sake, or brewed rice wine.


Rice is specially grown for sake, and must go through a through a rigorous process before turning into sake that is drinkable. After harvesting, the rice polished (ground down to a certain size), rinsed, steamed, inoculated with koji, then turned into "mash" with water, put into stills or vats to ferment with yeast (wild yeast or added strains of yeast. After fermentation, the sake can be strained or not before either pasteurizing (or not) and bottling. The point of the grain of rice when it is polished is a certain point of interest for me, because of the "by product."


The rice grains are always polished to a certain percentage: the more it is polished, the smaller it gets, and the finer the sake is, generally. Polishing determines the variety or category of sake:


  • Junmai Daiginjo & Daiginjo: 50% or less of rice remaining

  • Junmai Ginjo & Ginjo: 60% or less remaining

  • Honjozo: 70% or less remaining

  • Junmai: No minimum required, usually 70%


Close-up of a flour-dusted hand cupping a small pile of powder against a dark, blurred background.
Rice bran "flour"

Most sake breweries will ship out massive amounts of rice brand, packaged up in 50 kg sacks, which will find their way into products like rice crackers and noodles rather than becoming waste. Even after the sake is pressed, the work isn't finished. The remaining sake kasu, the fragrant lees left behind after fermentation, finds a second life in many Japanese kitchens. Rich with yeast, rice solids, and umami, it's used in marinades, soups, pickles, sweets, and even baked goods.


As someone who has always believed that sustainability is all important in the food and beverage world, it was inspiring to see centuries-old traditions embracing the same philosophy: every ingredient still has something left to give.


Stacks of tan rice bags on pallets in a warehouse, labeled in Japanese, under bright industrial lighting.
Stacks of rice bran, bound for rice crackers and noodles.
Industrial machine filling a tan rice bag with Japanese text in a factory, with green floor and metal equipment.
Filling the bags with rice bran.
White rice pours from a chute into a bin in a dim factory, with orange carts and metal machinery in the background.
Rice after polishing and washing
Industrial conveyor and chute pouring white grains into large bins in a factory, with stainless steel machinery.
Washed rice comes off of the conveyor belt here.
Industrial laundry room with wheeled bins covered in white linens, windows, and a control panel labeled KAKUYO and 02.
Two masked workers in blue hairnets inspect white protective gowns in an industrial laundry room with hanging garments.
Keith showing us the massive yet fine mesh filters for steaming the rice.
Industrial laundry room with white mesh bags hanging to dry, blue bins below, and a wet floor under a high metal ceiling.
Worker in white protective suit cleans a stainless-steel tank in an industrial plant with overhead crane and wet floor.
Massive steaming vats.

One of the most memorable moments was getting to view the koji room.


Koji is steamed rice inoculated with Aspergillus oryzae, a microscopic mold responsible for converting the rice's starch into fermentable sugars. Without it, sake wouldn't exist. The room is kept warm and humid while brewers spend days carefully monitoring temperature, moisture, and airflow, treating each batch with precision.


This environment felt surprisingly quiet, and I understood how special and important this space was, demanding patience and attention.


Wood-paneled spa room with a large covered bath or tank, hanging equipment, a clock, and warm wooden floors lit by bright fluorescent lights
Inside the koji room, steamed rice all tucked in, getting inoculated with koji. Notice the cedar wood walls, antibacterial properties help the room prevent mold from growing at such a high level of humidity and warmth (82-90F)

Window into a warm-lit industrial room with covered equipment, blue bins, and Japanese signs for a sushi or noodle prep area
Looking through the viewing window inside the koji room

We toured through the brewery itself, moving between fermentation tanks, cedar-lined rooms, and cellars. Every room carried its own aroma: freshly steamed rice, damp wood, cool stone, and the unmistakable sweetness of active fermentation. The entire building seemed alive with microorganisms quietly doing their work.


Worker in a white coat and hairnet walks through a bright industrial dairy room with hanging white bags and blue crates
Walking around the brewery in this cute getup, to protect the careful environment of the brewery.
Two workers in white coats peer into a glowing round hatch or tank opening, with a metal lid overhead in a warm industrial setting
Fermentation Tanks, built into the ground, lid pulled off for us to take a look inside.

Worker in white protective suit siphons liquid from a labeled metal tank into a glass carboy in an industrial room.
Getting a taste of the special batches almost ready for bottling.
Green plastic crates stacked with paper bags, labeled T3470 and Japanese text, in a dim storage room.
Getting a look at one of the oldest bottles in holding, from 1972. Sake isn't usually aged.

As a chef, I usually find myself thinking less about alcohol and more about fermentation itself. Whether it's sourdough, miso, koji, or sake, the process always asks for the same things: humility, observation, and time. No amount of force can hurry microorganisms along. You simply create the right conditions and trust them.


Some of the best food experiences happen not because they're expensive or elaborate, but because someone chooses to open a door that usually stays closed.


Though this was years ago, I'm still incredibly grateful to Keith and the Toji (head brewers) at Miyasaka Brewery for sharing their craft so generously. It remains one of the most memorable experiences I've had in Japan, not because of what we tasted, but because of what we were invited to witness.



Abigail Schmitt



Blue car waits at a Japanese intersection under red lights, with power lines, snowy mountains, and a bright blue sky.
Suwa, Nagano
View from a car on a winding rural road, with a blue sky, power lines, houses, trees, and a small car ahead.
Suwa, Nagano

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