Rituals, so long as they involve neither castration nor taffeta, are marvellous. We need more rituals. In a throwaway world choked with instant fix detritus, a bit of pomp is especially welcome. Give me a wedding, a tea ceremony or, at a pinch, even a newly lesbian piercing party. I’ll be there. And, if you ask me nicely, I’ll organise your music and prepare the hors d'œuvres.

This desire for ritual is only matched by a passion for drinking. Mix that with a lifelong curiosity about Japanese culture, replete with subtle customs when it comes to consumption, and my path to sake was clear.

Sake appreciation is no simple matter. A serious affair, even wine tasting pales by comparison.

Sake must be served in shallow cups called choko or sakazuki. They’re small for a beautiful reason. The sake ritual rests on the concept of o-shaku. Which, rather roughly, translates to mean: helping your mates get tanked. With a tiny cup, the need to top up arises more often. This gesture of generosity punctuates the conversation; old friendships are galvanised and new alliances are affirmed.

Another item used in the sake ritual is a masu, a box made of Japanese cypress. I become terribly excited when a masu appears. As a show of generosity, the server places the cup inside the masu and pours until sake overflows and fills the box. The cypress also acts to enhance the flavour of an inferior sake, but may detract from the subtleties of a fine one.

There are numerous types of sake. Only four qualify as premium: Honjozo-shu , Junmai-shu, ginjo-shu and daiginjo-shu. A sake’s grade is determined by treatment of the rice grain. The more polished the better, as it is the inner, starchy part of the rice that ferments, while the outer grain can impart undesirable bitterness.

Unlike most wines and persons, sake is better when it is young. So, avoid dusty bottles in your local bottleshop.

It is acceptable to drink sake either hot or cold, but the good stuff is served chilled. Sake purists use the warmth from their hands to develop the flavours.

Impurists, however, are sucking down a new sensation: the saketini. What next? Perhaps you’d like a dash of Mouton Rothschild in your Cosmo, Sarah Jessica?

True martini drinkers feel the saketini is another wound to the classic cocktail. Sake purists feel equally injured.

Hiroaki Aoki, the founder of the hugely successful Benihana restaurant chain in the US, says that “if a cocktail made with sake is pleasing to the palate, why should tradition stand in the way of progress?”

Try telling that to Yoshiyasu Sudo, 55th generation of his family to head the Sudo Honke brewery in Obara, Japan. His ascendants have been brewing since 1141. This is a guy who can’t just pop off to New York to pursue his dream of hairstyling. For over 850 years the brewery’s mantra has been ‘Sake, Rice, Soil, Water, Tree’. As clumsy gaijin, I’ve no hope of understanding the glorious Japanese simplicity of this motto. But I know his stuff is the business.

Now, o-shaku me.

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