I REMEMBER THE night I became a sake guy.

It was a Friday. My wife and I were having friends over for dinner — scallops piccata with sauteed kale and pasta. On my way home from work, I stopped by my local bottle shop and was greeted by the dreaded question:

“What are you looking for?”

A confession: I’m just not that into wine. I’ve barraged my wine-inclined friends and family with questions about their preferences, had earnest conversations with sommeliers at lots of good restaurants, and visited vineyards in Tuscany. I’ve tried. The results: a palate incapable of detecting the difference between a Barolo or a Burgundy. I don’t even have a crystallized point of view on what I like or don’t like, besides the fact that white wine consumed in large quantities gives me heartburn and I’d rather drink out of a Spanish porrón for sport than for pleasure.

Picking up on my mopey body language, the salesperson offered a reprieve: “Light, buttery fish like scallops pairs nicely with a sake.”

Sake, an alcoholic beverage made from fermented rice, originated in Japan and dates back to 300 B.C. By the 1600s it was being manufactured, with rice beginning its transformation into sake when it is polished to remove the outer layer of the grain — the more of each grain that’s polished away, the more premium the product. The polished grains are then fermented, filtered, sterilized, stored, and bottled. The U.S. is the biggest export market for sake outside of Asia, yet the drink is still somewhat enigmatic to those stateside.

That Friday evening, I was guided toward a shelf that contained about a dozen different varieties, and it struck me: I couldn’t name or even recognize a single sake brand. I’d never even noticed it in a retail setting. As I later learned from Ben Bohen, owner of Waterfront Wines, I’m not alone: America is sorely undereducated when it comes to sake. In the U.S., the majority of sake is still consumed in restaurants, which is why the beverage, rapidly growing in popularity, was hit hard during the pandemic.

After these general classifications, it starts to get more complicated, as each style has many subcategories within it, graded by how much of the rice bran is polished off before brewing. For example, Junmai Daiginjo is the most expensive type because it is the most polished: a minimum of 50% of each grain is removed before brewing.

Another challenge is that most sake labels are text heavy and written in Japanese. You don’t realize how often you go, “Oh, the one with the whale,” when trying to recall that amazing bottle of wine you drank. Sake producers are only just beginning to brand and package with the Western market in mind.

If my little corner of Brooklyn is any indication, sake is starting to break through. Bohen says that over the last 10 years, it's taken up more and more shelf space in his shop because more people are asking for it. He’s even started selling it in single-serve containers — RTD (ready to drink) in industry parlance — which means it is on its way to becoming more accessible, and soon, maybe even trendy.

After trying every sake on the shelf at Waterfront Wines, seeking out the craft sake brewed locally at Brooklyn Kura, and talking up anyone who knows a thing or two about the centuries-old fermented rice drink, I’ve finally reached small-talk status. As my cramped refrigerator will attest to, and my patient wife will confirm, I’m hooked.

Think of the four recommendations below as a sake starter pack. They should comprise a well-rounded tour of sake: different styles, different occasions, different tastes.