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| SAPPOROサクラビール |
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| SAPPORO Sakura Beer |
Since it's Sunday, I'm writing something gentle.
Sergeant = Gentlemanly courage and admirable attitude.
ex “Thank you, little sergeant lady”: When thanking a young lady who gave up her spot on the handrail.
I've been drinking beer for decades now.
People look puzzled and ask, “Why only beer?” But I drink it because I like it.
The first time I sat down at a bar in town, I ordered Heineken without thinking. I've stuck with it ever since.
I ordered Heineken because I liked it, but I got so much flak for always ordering it – “Why Heineken at your age?” – that it got tiresome. One day at a casual izakaya, I ordered Ichiban Shibori instead. Suddenly, the other debutants my age on Sergeant Code Street started calling me “the grown-up” and treating me with respect.
Back then, Asahi Super Dry dominated the streets, and I wasn't particularly fond of it, hence my choice.
Heineken felt light yet full-bodied to me, very easy to drink, so I still have it occasionally.
Perhaps because beer was long considered indispensable in Japan's adult business world, it seemed to carry an image of being ordinary.
The phrase “Beer for starters” probably originated with men in suits, wiping their hands with a towel after work or at a business meal, ordering it as an aperitif. It was valued as a drink that wouldn't interfere with the meal that followed.
Later, the media picked up this phrase as a charming expression, brightening the mood of both those who said it and those who heard it.
The debutants of Sergeant Code Street were all scrambling to imitate these grown men.
In the streets, dry beers were the mainstay, and everyone was drinking crisp, refreshing brews.
Amidst this, First Press made its debut. It offered a light body with a smooth, rich flavor spreading across the palate. As an antithesis to the dry-dominated “Just a beer for now,” it seemed to be favored by those who valued beer's true taste.
Eventually, Kirin Lager, an older beer, seemed to make a comeback. Honestly, drinking only Ichiban Shibori left me wanting something more, so I preferred Kirin Lager.
Beer is bitter. This bitterness was seen as a sign of adulthood, but it seems this was a high hurdle for the Sergeant Code Street debutants.
I read in an introduction to one of Japan's leading chefs, Rokuzaburo Dojo, that Japanese cuisine is said to have five tastes: sweet, spicy, sour, salty, and bitter.
True chefs, he said, cannot train their palates without understanding bitterness.
Since Dojo-san aspired to be a chef from elementary school, he ate “hoya” sea squirts to train his sense of bitterness and refine his palate.
Originally, bitter beer was served as an evening drink because it perfectly balanced the five tastes mentioned above. This was evidence of a culinary custom where common folk unconsciously chose it to enhance their enjoyment of dinner and meals.
So when I ordered lager beer at a bar during my youth, the shop owner or staff would instantly light up with a look that said, “Oh, you know your stuff.”
As someone who enjoys such beer, I was asked right from the start: “Do you drink it in the style where refilling beer is considered bad manners?”
“Mr. Enamel, do you allow beer refills?”
“Ah, no, thank you.”
When I answered this, the person who asked beamed and looked very satisfied.
Sergeant Code Street must have shown the fresh consideration of a debutante.
Truth be told, I don't know why you shouldn't refill beer.
I heard it's because “the taste changes,” but honestly, I prefer canned beer. With bottled beer, the bottle's smell lingers in the beer, forcing me to drink that unpleasantness too. So I'm firmly in the “please don't pour it into a glass” camp.
Mr. O and I are divided on this issue.
You probably don't understand what I'm saying, but this is the Sunday edition.
For Sergeant Code Street, I think the original purpose of confirming beer style starting with this question was to say, “Please stop refilling my beer.”
It should have been abolished as a bad habit by now, but at large gatherings where bottled beer is served (for dozens of people), each of those dozens would take a bottle and come to pour beer for every single superior in turn.
The ones who absolutely hated those banquets the most were undoubtedly the president and all the superiors below him.
Good thing we got rid of it (lol).
So the reason why refilling beer isn't allowed remains unclear.
They just didn't want people coming to refill. That's all.
It was nothing but an ordeal that made your stomach bloated.
I don't know who created this wonderful, incomprehensible rule, but thank you, you! Everyone, you're saved!
Now, when someone nervously asks me, “Enamel, is it okay to refill your beer?”, I quietly nod and say, “Ah, I'll do it myself,” then take my bottle and ask back, “Shall I refill it?” Most people then frantically wave their hands in front of their chest, saying, “No, thank you!” (So, let's just drink as we please), silently conveying that.
I've created a separate category called Sergeant Code Street, distinct from the Sunday edition.
When it comes to talking about alcohol, we want to be smart about it, right? Without giving off any air of condescension like, “You don't know about this?” Remembering that drinking involves a double meaning of thought and taste, and that Sergeant and Intelligence are places of etiquette.
Well then, have a wonderful Sunday.
