Charlie’s Note

Looking back, I think I’ve spent half my life searching for Hidden Gems.

That was never the plan.

I just liked good drinks.

I liked interesting people.

And I had a bad habit of taking unnecessary detours.

Somehow, thirty years disappeared.

Here’s something I’ve noticed.

Hidden Gems rarely appear when you’re looking for them.

They usually show up when you’re about to head home.

Or when someone casually says...

“Wait there.”

— Highball Charlie

2004

Eddie has one small problem.

He can’t tell a short story.

Especially if Cognac is involved.

If he starts with,

“Let me tell you something...”

just cancel your next appointment.

You’ll need the time.

I’ve known him for over twenty years.

So I say that with love.

We first met in France.

Back then I was working on Japanese plum liqueur, and for reasons I still can’t fully explain, I decided to spend my own vacation visiting Cognac distilleries.

Looking back...

that probably tells you everything you need to know about me.

I had never met Eddie.

I simply showed up.

Instead of wondering why this random Japanese guy had appeared at his distillery, he arranged everything.

The tour.

My hotel.

Dinner.

The whole lot.

At the time, I thought I’d gone to France to learn about Cognac.

Now I think I went there to meet Eddie.

April 28, 2022

Fast forward.

Eighteen years.

I’d just returned from the United States.

One of the first places I visited was Suntory’s R&D center.

I asked Eddie something he’d heard me ask in different ways for years.

“Do those Hidden Gems you always talked about... still exist?”

He looked at me.

Smiled.

Then simply said,

“Wait there.”

And disappeared.

When somebody tells you to wait inside a research laboratory...

there isn’t much else you can do.

So I waited.

I think I even started reading the posters on the wall.

A few minutes later,

people began placing bottles on the table.

One.

Then another.

Then another.

No labels.

No fancy packaging.

No launch plans.

Just anonymous bottles.

Two of them would eventually become

Green Tea Shochu.

And Vintage Plum Liqueur.

Back then,

they were simply ideas nobody quite knew what to do with.

Eddie looked at them.

Smiled.

And quietly said,

“These kids...”

Not products.

Not samples.

Kids.

“They’re too expensive.”

“Nobody wants to commercialize them.”

“They’ll never fit into mass production.”

Then he smiled.

“But they’re damn good.”

Funny thing is...

I don’t think he was talking about the bottles anymore.

Last Week

Eddie, Mihoko Kayano,

and I finally sat down for dinner.

I assumed we’d spend the evening talking about Rare Creations.

We barely did.

We talked about AI.

Baseball.

Life.

Why companies sometimes struggle to protect strange ideas.

And somewhere along the way...

alcohol made a brief appearance.

Mihoko is fascinating to watch.

She tastes something.

Then goes completely quiet.

Which, for a researcher, is usually dangerous.

A few seconds later she’ll quietly say,

“I think we can make this better.”

Whenever she says that,

I imagine another few years of research have just been added to someone’s calendar.

Watching Eddie and Mihoko together,

I suddenly realised something.

I’ve spent almost my entire career in marketing and sales.

You naturally start by asking,

“Will people want this?”

These two don’t.

They begin somewhere completely different.

“Can this be better?”

The customer comes later.

The market comes later.

First comes belief.

There’s a baseball expression I love.

Some players swing just to make contact.

Others swing as hard as they can.

Sure,

they’ll strike out more often.

But every now and then...

the ball disappears.

Watching Eddie and Mihoko,

I realised they have absolutely no interest in making safe contact.

They swing with everything they’ve got.

I just thought...

that was beautiful.

People often ask why these bottles are rare.

Small batch.

Limited production.

Years of aging.

All true.

But I don’t think that’s the real answer anymore.

A bottle becomes rare when someone’s way of life has taken shape inside it.

That’s different.

Very different.

Which makes me wonder.

Maybe I’ve misunderstood SAKAZKI all along.

People call it an NFT project.

Or a whisky community.

Or a travel project.

Maybe it’s none of those.

Maybe SAKAZUKI is just my excuse to say,

“You should meet this person.”

Looking back,

maybe the most important thing Eddie gave me that day wasn’t a bottle.

It was two words.

“Wait there.”

— Highball Charlie

Japan's Hidden Gems, Shared Together.