11/16/2024 | UPONSOFT

Japan’s sake brewers hope UNESCO heritage listing can boost rice wine’s appeal

By Uponent | 11/16/2024 | No Comments | Business, Entertainment

OME, Japan — Deep in a dark warehouse the sake sleeps, stored in rows of giant tanks, each holding more than 10,000 liters of the Japanese rice wine that is the product of brewing techniques dating back more than 1,000 years.

Junichiro Ozawa, the 18th-generation head of Ozawa Brewery, founded in 1702, hopes sake-brewing will win recognition as a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage, when the decision is made next month.

“We always think about the people who’re enjoying our sake when we make it. I’m now so excited, imagining the faces of all the people around the world,” he told reporters Wednesday during a tour of his brewery on the pastoral outskirts of Tokyo.

Sake, the drink of choice for the nobility in “The Tale of Genji” — Japan’s most celebrated work of literature — has been widening its appeal, boosted by the growing international popularity of Japanese cuisine.

Sake exports from Japan total more than 41 billion yen ($265 million) a year, with the biggest destinations being the U.S. and China, according to the Japan Sake and Shochu Makers Association.

That’s up from about 22 billion yen in 2018. But exports still make up a tiny fraction of overall sake production in Japan. Brazil, Mexico and Southeast Asia, as well as France and the rest of Europe, all places where Japanese restaurants are gaining popularity, are starting to take a liking to sake.

What’s key to sake-making, which takes about two months, including fermentation and pressing, are the rice and the water.

For a product to be categorized Japanese sake, the rice must be Japanese. The relatively soft quality of freshwater in Japan, like the supplies provided by the two wells at Ozawa Brewery, is also critical.

Among Ozawa’s sake is the full-bodied aromatic Junmai Daiginjo, one of the top offerings, with 15% alcohol content and costing about 3,630 yen ($23) for a 720-milliliter bottle.

Karakuti Nigorizake is unrefined sake, murky and not clear like usual sake, with 17% alcohol content and a rugged no-nonsense taste. It sells for 2,420 yen ($16) for a 1,800 milliliter bottle.

The religious connotations of sake are evident at the brewery. The big cedar-leaves ball hanging under the eaves is a symbol of a shrine for the god of sake-making. In Japan, sake is used to purify and to celebrate. Sips from a cup signify the sealing of a marriage.

“Sake is not just an alcoholic beverage. It is Japanese culture itself,” said Hitoshi Utsunomiya, director of the Japan Sake and Shochu Makers Association.

The UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage designation is given to not just historical monuments but also practices passed down generations, such as oral traditions, performing arts, rituals and festivals.

It’s not meant to be used for commercial purposes. But sake officials make no secret of their hope that it will boost global sales, helping the tradition stay alive amid competition from beer, wine and other modern beverages.

Among previous Intangible Cultural Heritage inclusions are Kabuki theater and Gagaku court music from Japan, as well as Sona, which are drawings on sand in Angola; the Chinese zither called guqin and Cremonese violin craftsmanship from Italy. Washoku, or Japanese cuisine, won the honors in 2013.

One reason for sake’s growing popularity around the world is that its smooth flavor goes well with varieties of food, including sushi, spicy Asian and Western dishes, says Max Del Vita, a certified sake sommelier and co-founder of The Sake Company, an import and distribution retailer in Singapore.

“These brewers are cultural stewards, passing down techniques through generations and blending ancient practices with quiet innovation,” he told The Associated Press. “Sake is more than a drink. It is a living embodiment of Japan’s seasonal rhythms, community values and artistic heritage.”
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UN climate chief urges G20 action to untangle COP29 talks

By Uponsci | 11/16/2024 | No Comments | Business, Science, Silicon Valley

BAKU, AZERBAIJAN — The United Nation’s climate chief urged G20 nations on Saturday to push COP29 negotiations toward a deal to raise money for developing nations, warning there was a “long way to go.”

Negotiators worked through the night to narrow their differences at the U.N. talks in Baku before ministers arrive next week for the final days of the summit, but major differences remain.

U.N. climate chief Simon Stiell appealed for leaders of the Group of 20 nations, which includes the world’s biggest economies and top polluters, to weigh in when they meet in Brazil on Monday.

“As G20 Leaders head to Rio de Janeiro, the world is watching and expecting strong signals that climate action is core business for the world’s biggest economies,” Stiell said in a statement.

Some developing countries, which are least responsible for global greenhouse gas emissions, want an annual commitment of $1.3 trillion to help them adapt to climate impact and transition to clean energy.

The figure is over 10 times what donors including the United States, the European Union and Japan currently pay.

But the negotiations are stuck over a final figure, the type of financing and who should pay, with developed countries wanting China and wealthy Gulf states to join the list of donors.

The latest draft deal was 25 pages long and still contained a raft of options.

“Here in Baku negotiators are working around the clock on a new climate finance goal,” Stiell said.

“There is a long way to go, but everyone is very aware of the stakes, at the halfway point in the COP,” he said.

“Climate finance progress outside of our process is equally crucial, and the G20’s role is mission-critical.”
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Wild deer population boom has some in England promoting venison to consumers

By Uponsci | 11/16/2024 | No Comments | Business, Science, Silicon Valley

WINCHESTER, England — In the half-light of dusk, Martin Edwards surveys the shadows of the ancient woodland from a high seat and waits. He sits still, watching with his thermal camera.

Even the hares don’t seem to notice the deer stalker until he takes aim. The bang of his rifle pierces the stillness. He’s killed a buck, one of many wild deer roaming this patch of forest in Hampshire, southern England.

Edwards advocates humane deer management: the culling of deer to control their numbers and ensure they don’t overrun forests and farmland in a country where they no longer have natural predators. For these advocates, shooting deer is much more than a sport. It’s a necessity because England’s deer population has gotten out of control.

There are now more deer in England than at any other time in the last 1,000 years, according to the Forestry Commission, the government department looking after England’s public woodland.

That has had a devastating impact on the environment, officials say. Excessive deer foraging damages large areas of woodland including young trees, as well as the habitats of certain birds like robins. Some landowners have lost huge amounts of crops to deer, and overpopulation means that the mammals are more likely to suffer from starvation and disease.

“They will produce more young every year. We’ve got to a point where farmers and foresters are definitely seeing that impact,” said Edwards, pointing to some young hazel shrubs with half-eaten buds. “If there’s too many deer, you will see that they’ve literally eaten all the vegetation up to a certain height.”

Forestry experts and businesses argue that culling the deer — and supplying the meat to consumers — is a double win: It helps rebalance the ecosystem and provides a low-fat, sustainable protein.

While venison — a red meat similar to lean beef but with an earthier flavor — is often perceived as a high-end food in the U.K., one charity sees it as an ideal protein for those who can’t afford to buy other meats.

“Why not utilize that fantastic meat to feed people in need?” said SJ Hunt, chief executive of The Country Food Trust, which distributes meals made with wild venison to food banks.

Pandemic population boom

An estimated 2 million deer now roam England’s forests.

The government says native wild deer play a role in healthy forest ecosystems, but acknowledges that their population needs managing. It provides some funding for solutions such as building deer fences.

But experts like Edwards, a spokesman for the British Association for Shooting and Conservation, believe lethal control is the only effective option, especially after deer populations surged during the COVID-19 pandemic.

The pandemic was a boon to deer because hunters, like everyone else, stayed home and the restaurant market — the main outlet for venison in the U.K. — vanished overnight.

“There were no sales of venison and the price was absolutely on the floor,” said Ben Rigby, a leading venison and game meats wholesaler. “The deer had a chance to breed massively.”

Rigby’s company now processes hundreds of deer a week, turning them into diced venison or steaks for restaurants and supermarkets. One challenge, he said, is growing the domestic appetite for venison so it appears on more dinner plates, especially after Brexit put new barriers up for exporting the meat.

“We’re not really a game-eating nation, not like in France or Germany or Scandinavia,” he said. “But the U.K. is becoming more and more aware of it and our trade is growing.”

From the forest to the table

Shooting deer is legal but strictly regulated in England. Stalkers must have a license, use certain kinds of firearms and observe open seasons. They also need a valid reason, such as when a landowner authorizes them to kill the deer when their land is damaged. Hunting deer with packs of dogs is illegal.

Making wild venison more widely available in supermarkets and beyond will motivate more stalkers to cull the deer and ensure the meat doesn’t go to waste, Edwards said.

Forestry England, which manages public forests, is part of that drive. In recent years it supplied some hospitals with 1,000 kilograms of wild venison, which became the basis of pies and casseroles popular with patients and staff, it said.

The approach appears to have been well received, though it has attracted some criticism from animal welfare group PETA, which advocates veganism.

Hunt, the food charity chief, said there’s potential to do much more with the meat, which she described as nutritious and “free-range to the purest form of that definition.”

Her charity distributed hundreds of thousands of pouches of venison Bolognese meals to food banks last year — and people are hungry for more, she said.

She recalled attending one food bank session where the only protein available was canned sardines, canned baked beans and the venison meals.

“There were no eggs. There was no cheese. That’s all that they could do, and people were just saying, ‘Thank you, please bring more (of the venison),” she said. “That’s fantastic, because people realize they’re doing a double positive with helping the environment by utilizing the meat as well.”
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China’s underground raves include street techno, quotes from Chairman Mao

By Uponent | 11/16/2024 | No Comments | Business, Entertainment

CHANGCHUN, China — Crouch through the small metal door and walk down the dark tunnel, and even before you step into the abandoned air raid shelter, the air reverberates with pounding techno beats. Young Chinese holding booze and cigarettes shake and sway in a red-lit passageway, below a big screen rolling through quotations from Chairman Mao.

This is an underground rave in China, part of a subculture growing in hidden corners of the nation’s cities, even as its political and cultural mainstream grow increasingly controlled, staid and predictable.

For Chinese ravers, these gatherings — often called “ye di,” or “wild dances” — not only offer a rare space for unfettered fun, but signal resistance to the narrowly prescribed future a rigid society expects for them.

By day, Xing Long works in the office of a state-owned company in Changchun, an industrial city in China’s northeastern rust belt region.

By night, he’s a DJ and underground rave organizer, a side gig that offers an escape from the humdrum of reviewing corporate contracts.

“My job cannot make me feel I fulfilled my values,” he said. “Going to work is like executing a prewritten program.”

Chinese young people face intense pressure and high expectations from the society around them. In recent years, facing bleak economic prospects, Chinese youth culture has been swept by a series of viral slang terms to describe frustration and hopelessness: ” 996 ” — the brutal 9 a.m. to 9 p.m., six days a week work schedule many companies ask of employees. “Involution” — an endless treadmill of pointless competition that fresh graduates face. ” Lying flat” — the growing trend among young people of giving up all ambition and aiming to do as little as possible.

Techno dance parties are an escape from all that for people like Xing. Every time he walks into a rave, the 31-year-old said, his brain “jolts awake like a bang.”

Xing first learned about techno music from a documentary made by the American media company Vice.

“My eyes brightened up when I heard it,” he said. “I should’ve listened to this kind of music earlier.”

Xing began going to raves in Shenzhen, a southern city with a population of 17 million, but when he moved home in 2021 he realized no one else was organizing them.

“I want this city to have an underground techno music scene,” he said. “I want to listen to it myself, so I want to make it happen.”

Xing said that the underground techno scene fascinated him because it’s “real” even if not perfect, bad, not in the right order, or broken.

“It’s not a beautiful thing that was deliberately produced into a mold to present to the mainstream.”

In recent years, space for culture and creativity has been shrinking in China as the authorities have ramped up censorship of concerts, shows, and other cultural events. Comedians have been silenced after joking about topics considered politically sensitive. A growing number of independent bookstores and creative spaces have shut down under pressure, while state-sanctioned media promotes uplifting, often saccharine narratives.

Yet underground raves are free from all those limitations because they sprout in gray zones. Hidden from public view, they skirt formal approval processes, neither supported nor suppressed by the state.

Feng Zhe, 27, a rave organizer in Shenyang, a northeastern city about 400 miles from Beijing, said raves are about “refusing to be disciplined by society.”

“This is probably not how the world functions nowadays,” he said, adding that societies want to make people follow their rules and be useful but “underground culture is useless.”

“Most people are going to be repressed,” Feng said.

But for most rave organizers, the real meaning of underground rave culture is simply having fun. Loong Wu, a 26-year-old art student, started organizing raves in 2021 during COVID-19 lockdowns out of boredom.

“My original intention was just to break through the boredom,” she said. “When you are truly enjoying it, you don’t think about meanings.”

On one recent Saturday night, civil servants, students, an ex-firefighter, girls with dyed hair, and a man with a full-face mask and goggles filed into a bar tucked behind a flower shop in downtown Changchun to attend one of Xing’s raves.

They danced to fast-paced industrial techno spun by Du Jizhe, a local part-time DJ who works in HR by day.

He said it’s the natural soundtrack of auto manufacturing cities like Changchun and Detroit, which prides itself on being the birthplace of techno. For Du, techno evokes childhood memories of the auto factory where his father worked.

“Techno is basically industrial noise like hammering and mechanical sounds,” Du said “These noises exert a subtle influence on people’s ears in industrial cities.”

Chen Xiangyu, a fashion student in an oversized black T-shirt with hair dyed blond, a black leather choker, a lip piercing, and smoky eye makeup, said raves are a pure release.

“The first time I came, I thought to myself, I don’t know anyone, no one knows me, so nobody’s paying any attention to how I dance, so long as I’m happy, it’s all good,” she said. “I shouldn’t care too much about what others think.”

Even at raves, illegal drugs are rarely seen in China, but promoters still face risks from authorities who have little patience for unapproved social gatherings.

Advertisements promoting raves are often cryptic, with only a date, a DJ line-up, and the cost of admission. Sometimes, the location won’t be revealed until an hour ahead of the party. Some organizers require guests to cover their phone’s camera with a sticker.

Loong Wu said her requirements for a rave spot were no CCTV cameras, no security, and no nearby residents. Even those aren’t a guarantee — local police once busted one of her raves in an industrial port.

“It was pathetic how few such places exist in the city,” she said.

Frustrated with how hard it was to find a good rave spot, she once organized a public party where she put her DJ equipment on a cart and pushed it through city streets as revelers danced alongside.

“Restrictions exist for sure, but that’s exactly why we need to create our own scene,” she said. “We always need ‘wild dances.’ We always need to dance outside of set rules.”
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