When people talk about Japan and its alcohols, most people would immediately gravitate toward topics of the more popular categories of whisky, beer and shochu.

Unless you're already deep into the world of wines, I'd wager you would hardly even consider Japan as a place that can produce wines. Even for any who might consider themselves connoisseurs, their first reactions to Japan having wineries is likely to be mild doubt, then confusion. And who can blame them? After all, Japan's not exactly the first place you think of when you think wine. You envision the wineries of Spain or New Zealand, mentally browsing through the great old vineyards of France.

But you'd be wrong to write off Japan as a growing force in the wine world. 

Today, let's talk about the Yamanashi prefecture. Responsible for over 40 per cent of wine production in Japan, Yamanashi is Japan's very own Bordeaux, a wine capital nestled in the land of the rising sun.

The Roots of  Yamanashi's Wine Dominance in Japan Lies In The Koshu Grape

Koshu Grapes. Very Studio-Ghibli-esque, if you ask me.

Before Yamanashi was knwon as Yamanashi, it went by the old name Koshu, up to the Edo Period (1603–1867). Prior to the Edo Period, it seemed that the only type of grapes grown in Japan were the white grapes known as Koshu grapes. 

Japan's only indigenous grape, koshu grapes, have a swath of stories that surround it: One such story suggests the grape was a naturally-occurring variety found in Yamanashi all the way back in 1186, allegedly a mutation from a Chinese variety brought over by Buddhist monks. Another story suggests the grapes were planted by the famous monk Gyoki in 718AD. It is now known, however, that the variety is a hybrid of Europe's Vitis vinifera and the East Asian Vitis species.

Origins aside, the bubblegum-colored grapes were found to thrive in the climate of the Katsunuma area. It was a natural next step to start cultivation of the grape variety. Today, the Yamanashi Prefecture is responsible for 95 per cent of the Koshu plantings in Japan, while the Koshu grape is registered with the International Organization of Vine and Wine (OIV) as a representative grape variety used in Japanese wine.

Grape Expectations during the Meiji Period

In an effort to create products equal in quality to those from the West, the Yamanashi Prefectural government in the Meiji Period (1868–1912) encouraged wine production. The act was a logistical one as much as it was a matter of national pride — producing alcohol from grapes reduced the demand of rice. Already in a period of shortage, this lessened the burden as less traditional rice-based alcohol would be made. 

Masanari Takano (Left) and Ryuken Tsuchiya (Right), pictured in Champagne, France.

In 1877, two aspiring winemakers named Masanari Takano and Tatsunori (Ryuken) Tsuchiya established the first private winery in Japan: The Dainihon Yamanashi Wine Company. With backing from the Yamanashi government, the two were bundled off to France to learn how to make wine. The two agronomists returned three years later, wielding their newfound skills and eager to get started.

Unfortunately, the French viticulture they had tutored in required one thing they did not have: European grapes. They were instead forced to used American grapes, brewing up to 2,700 liters of wine in the first year upon their return.

With their grapes and French methods, the result was dry dry white wine that unsurprisingly, was not received well by the Japanese, who had some years to go before they would appreciate the "dry" type of alcohol. Financial ruin compounded by an untimely typhoon led to the winery closing down just six years later.

Tsuchiya refused to give up, and with some friends and investors from his previous winery, reopened it as the Kaisan Budoshu Winery. However, history repeated itself (minus the typhoon), and the winery was eventually dissolved. 

The Former Miyazaki Wine Company’s First Winery (Miyakoen)

A Second Try, Friendly Competition ... And Sweeter Results! 

However, this is where his friend Kotaro Miyazaki took over the reins. Too young to go to France back when Tsuchiya had went, Miyazaki founded his own independent company in 1890: The Daikoku Budoshu Company.

He realized that the wine needed to become sweeter to suit the Japanese palate, as well as remarketed from a Western-centric image. To that end, he used images of Daikokuten, the god of wealth and commerce. Miyazaki soon trademarked his new Daikoku brand of wine, and it grew in popularity nationwide. Humorously enough, Yamanashi's great wine tourism industry was kickstarted by nothing more than friendly competition and Miyazaki's cheeky nature. 

Kamiya Denbei

You see, across Yamanashi was Ibaraki Prefecture. Within that region was a wine lover called Kamiya Denbei. Already selling imported sweet wine at the time, he dreamt of a native wine culture, and also sent his son to learn winemaking in France.

After that was done, he proceeded to plant 6,000 grapevines and established a modern winery called Ushiku Brewery (now Ushiku Chateau) which included a rail system to Ushiku Station, which was incredibly useful for transporting workers and large shipments crucial to wine production.

Peering out from across the land, Miyazaki had an eye on such developments, and refused to be outdone. He started a new winery the following year, called Miyakoen. 

It was a novel type of winery that focused on the utilisation of more modern viticulture techniques. As an added benefit, right beside the winery was the new Katsunuma Railway Station. Yes, it could have provided a good means of moving workers and product, but Miyazaki took it one step further. In what was essentially a first for Japan, he used the railway to offer wine tastings and tours of nearby vineyards.

When that took off, it effectively kickstarted Yamanashi’s wine tourism industry. By 1930, Yamanashi became the place to be for Japanese wines, boasting up to 1080 wineries. Miyazaki's winery itself was producing up to 470 thousand bottles a year. 

Some of Miyazaki's early wine iterations.

Yamanashi Gets Its Stars 

Fast forward forty years or so to 1964, and the Tokyo Olympics had arrived in Japan. This spotlight on Japan greatly boosted both exports, imports and tourism, which also resulted in a greater awareness for Japan’s viticulture industry.

To monitor and assure quality, the GI (Geographical Indicator) regulation was introduced to Japan by the International Organization of Wine and Vine (OIV) for the first time. Prior to the GI regulation, it was the norm to have omission of any terroir label indicating the grape's growth region. As a result, many local winemakers were made using imported grape concentrate or grapes grown from where the wine is processed. In certain cases, producers would import wine and add flavorings or ingredients such as herbs to it, then selling them as locally-produced offerings.

Wines from Yamanashi (from left): Grace Winery Toriibira Vineyard Private Reserve Koshu, Suntory Tomi No Oka Koshu 2017, Manns Solaris Yamanashi Sur Lie Koshu 2018, Château Mercian Iwade Koshu Kiiroka Cuvée Ueno, Marufuji Wine Rubaiyat Rouge 2019

The GI highlighted wines made in Japan from Japanese grapes. In a sense, it was essentially a quality assurance label, ensuring premium native wines could be discerned as such. In 2013, Yamanashi was the first region to  be awarded Japanese Geographical Indication (GI) for wine. This move was particularly welcomed by wine producers in Yamanashi, who sought a way to differentiate their products from other domestic winemakers. 

Today, the wine industry in Japan is still developing and garnering popularity, but remains slightly lesser well known as opposed to older European vineyards and wineries. For all you wine lovers headed to Japan soon, however, it's always a good idea to check out the country's contribution to the wider wine world.

After all, who knows when Japan wine will be on the same international level as Japanese whisky and beer? You wouldn't want to be caught wrong-footed going "What's that?" when that happens!

Lok Bing Hong A budding journalist that loves experiencing new things and telling people's stories. I have 30 seconds of coherence a day. I do not decide when they come. They are not consecutive.