Now in April, the distillery renovation work is finally reaching its final stage.
Every day, many craftsmen come and mix together, making the place seem busy. Each craftsman comes in his own car, so on the slopes on the premises, light trucks and Toyota commercial vehicles, Proboxes (or Succeeds), are lined up alternately. It's strange, but when you see them every day, the ordinary Proboxes start to look cool. The body of the car is always white, with a black plastic bumper as a nice accent.
The interior is simple and the back cargo area is spacious and looks like it can hold a lot of things. For daily commuting, transporting luggage, and as a place to eat lunch (and take a nap afterwards), its versatility and colorless, transparent presence are a perfect match.
I need to buy a van for mitosaya soon to transport the harvested fruits and processed products. The Probox is good, but it's a bit short. The name and size of the Daihatsu CARRY BOY, which is not seen in Japan and was used at a fern farm in Bangkok the other day, seemed just right.
The flashy parts of the renovation (pouring concrete for the floor, creating an oval hall, building arched doors, etc.) are already finished, and what's happening now is the finishing touches such as painting and adjustments.
At the same time, we check the progress of work, which is mainly the responsibility of the Hideyuki Nakayama Architectural Design Office, but I sometimes join them to look around.
For example, I can tell that there are areas that have not been painted, but of course I cannot tell the parts that cannot be seen. However, design offices check those very details. For example, "the angle of the door knob when closed is not parallel to the ground" or "the distance between the wall switch and the pillar is different on the left and right." I would not notice unless someone pointed it out, but now that I think about it, it is these things that affect usability and the impression of the appearance.
I remember a passage I read recently in a book called "The Diary of a Norwegian Carpenter."
"In this profession, the difference between good work and bad work is a millimeter."
This is not limited to carpenters, and to go even further, the strange thing about human senses is that accuracy is not necessarily equal to good.
On a day off, I went to a nearby temple. There is a large bamboo forest behind the temple, and since last year, I have been allowed to dig up bamboo shoots every spring. I was asked to borrow a thin hoe to find bamboo shoots, and entered the forest. It was just a slope overgrown with weeds, but the priest who was guiding me around said, "Here, and look, here too," and found bamboo shoots one after another. How could he tell when their tips were only 1 or 2 centimeters above the ground? If you look closely, you'll see that bamboo shoots don't just grow everywhere.
I think they often grow at the top of a slope or in a hollow somewhere along the way. I don't have any basis for this, but once I have some kind of basis for it, I gradually start to be able to find bamboo shoots.
In terms of digging, bamboo shoots look like they are sticking straight out of the ground, but in fact they grow diagonally upwards from roots that run underground. So when digging up a bamboo shoot, you dig down along the side with the roots, then use the teeth of the hoe to cut off the part that is connected to the roots, and you can dig it out intact. But this is easier said than done, and you won't know what shape something hidden in the soil is until you dig it up. Imagine the bamboo roots running underground and swing the hoe down. But you're usually left with a bamboo shoot that's sadly broken off in the process. The achievement of digging up a beautiful cylindrical bamboo shoot will have to wait until next spring.
On the way back, the head priest told us that the bamboo keeps growing, so if we don't keep digging it up, the sunlight won't reach the bamboo forest, and as a result, the bamboo forest will keep expanding.
This reminded me of a bamboo processing factory in the mountains of Otaki. When I visited there previously, a huge number of Moso bamboos were being processed into arch supports for fields. In one corner of the factory, there was a dusty processing machine that had previously been used to split and plow bamboo into baskets and sieves.
Some people are troubled by the bamboo growing, while others have unused bamboo processing machines. Some distillers are frustrated because they can't get a liquor license.
I feel like there's something I can do.
That day, the distillation machine finally arrived. It was a continuous distillation machine manufactured by the German company KOTHE, built in the 1990s. I plan to write more about the distillation machine itself once it is up and running, but today I will talk about its move. The distillation machine, which had been stored in a corner of the old COEDO Brewery factory in Kawagoe, Saitama Prefecture, was transported to mitosaya in Otaki Town, Chiba Prefecture. When I was wondering who I should ask, Asagiri from COEDO said, "There will be no problems if you leave it to Sekimoto-gumi."
I heard that they are a company that specializes in transporting and installing machine tools and heavy objects. Sekimoto Group. The name sounds like they are good at transporting things. They came to inspect the site and after checking everything out, they said,
"There's no problem."
On the day, they arrived with two trucks and six staff members. First, they removed the removable parts from the distillery, then assembled the iron bars into a torii gate-shaped structure. Once assembled, they hung a small crane called a hoist from the horizontal bar, tied a chain to the distillery, and turned it sideways. They placed a dolly under the distillery and carried it outside. They used the crane on the truck to lift the distillery, and carried it onto the truck bed while still lying on its side.
Once delivered, it will be transported to mitosaya immediately.
Once they arrive, they do the reverse of the unloading process: They use a crane to lift the equipment into the building, then transport it on a cart to the distillation room, assemble the iron bars into a gate-like shape, attach a hoist, and set up the distillation machine.
The distillery will be leveled and the gas and water connections will be done at a later date, but for now the delivery is complete.
Looking at the distillation machine once it was up and running, its straight cylindrical shape and dull stainless steel shining exterior are beautiful.
Whether or not I can use it well remains to be seen, but while there are a lot of extravagant distillers out there these days that show off distillation as if it were magic, I really like this distiller, which seems to embody the simple process of distillation: adding heat to the liquid and cooling the resulting steam.
How do you see what you can't see?
This was the April distiller who thought about the cylinder as he turned it horizontally and vertically.
It's April and the renovation of the distillery is in its final stretch.
Every day, many craftsmen come and go, and they seem to be busy. Each craftsman comes in his own car, so the ramps on the premises are lined up alternately with light trucks and Toyota Probox (or Succido) commercial vehicles. It's a strange thing, but seeing them every day, the ordinary Proboxes start to look cool. The body is predetermined white, with a black plastic bumper as a nice accent.
The interior is not too plain, and the back cargo bed is large enough to hold a lot of things. It's perfect for daily transportation, hauling cargo, and a place to eat lunch (and take a nap afterwards), with its many uses and colorless existence.
It's time for mitosaya to buy a van-like vehicle to transport harvested fruit trees and processed goods. The Probox is nice but a bit short. The Daihatsu Carry Boy, which is not available in Japan, was working at a fern farm in Bangkok that I visited the other day, and its name and size seemed to be just right.
The fancy renovation work (pouring concrete on the floor, making oval halls, arched doors, etc.) is already done, and what we are doing now is the finishing touches such as painting and adjustments.
At the same time, I'm checking on the completion of the work, which is mainly the responsibility of Hideyuki Nakayama's architectural design office, but I also go around with him.
For example, I can tell if there is a part that has not been painted yet, but of course I can't tell what I can't see. The design office, however, checks those parts. For example, "the angle of the knob when the door is closed is not parallel to the ground," or "the distance between the switch on the wall and the pillar is different on each side. If you don't ask, you won't notice, but if you do, this is the appearance that affects the usability and part of the place.
I remember a passage in a book I read the other day called "A Norwegian Carpenter's Diary".
In this profession, the difference between good work and bad work is only a millimeter.
This is not only true for carpenters, and moreover, it is a wonder of human senses that accuracy does not equal good work.
On my day off, I went to a nearby temple. There is a large bamboo grove behind the temple, and since last year I have been allowed to dig up bamboo shoots in the spring. I was given a slim stag beetle to use for digging bamboo shoots, and entered the bamboo grove. It was just a slope overgrown with weeds, but the priest who guided us found bamboo shoots one after another, saying, "Here, here, and here. I wondered how he could tell when the tips were only an inch or two out of the ground. Upon observation, I realized that bamboo shoots closer do not grow everywhere.
They often grow at the top of a slope or in a hollow in the middle of a slope. I don't have a basis for this, but once I have a basis in my mind, I can gradually find bamboo shoots.
In terms of digging, bamboo shoots look like they are sticking straight out of the ground from underground, but they are actually growing diagonally up from roots running underground. Therefore, when digging for bamboo shoots, you should dig in the direction of the roots, and finally insert the teeth of a hoe into the part that is connected to the roots to separate it. However, this is easier said than done, and it is impossible to know the shape of what is hidden in the soil until you dig. I imagine the bamboo roots running underground, and swing down the hoe. In most cases, I am left with a broken bamboo shoot. The achievement of digging up the beautiful cylindrical bamboo shoots will have to wait until next spring.
On the way home, the priest told us that bamboos keep growing, and if we don't keep digging and removing them, the bamboo grove will not get enough sunlight, and as a result, the bamboo grove will keep expanding. The bamboo grove will expand rapidly.
This reminded me of a bamboo processing plant in the mountains of Otaki. When I visited there before, they were processing a large number of moso bamboo into arch supports for fields. In one corner of the factory, there are dusty processing machines, which used to be used to split and plow bamboo to weave baskets and colanders.
There were people who said that the bamboo was growing too long and they were in trouble, and on the other hand, there were bamboo processing machines that were not being used. There are distillers who are frustrated because they can't get a sake brewing license.
I felt like there was something I could do.
That day, the distiller finally arrived, a continuous distiller made by KOTHE in Germany around the 1990s. I'll write more about the distiller itself when it's up and running, but for now, let's talk about the move. The distiller was stored in a corner of the old factory of COEDO Brewery in Kawagoe, Saitama Prefecture, but now it needs to be transported to mitosaya in Otaki, Chiba Prefecture. When I was wondering where to ask for help, Mr. Asagiri of COEDO said, "Leave it to Sekimoto-gumi, and you won't have any problems. He said that they specialize in transporting and installing machine tools and heavy objects. Sekimoto-gumi. From the name itself, they sounded like they could handle it. They came for a preliminary inspection and after everything, they said, "No problem.
There's no problem.
On the day of the event, they showed up with two trucks and six staff members. First, they removed the parts that could be removed from the distillation machine, and then began to assemble the bars into a torii-like structure. Once it was assembled, a small crane called a hoist was hung from a horizontal bar, and a chain was attached to the distiller so that the distiller could be overturned. After placing a dolly underneath the distiller, he carried it outside. A crane mounted on a truck lifted the distiller and carried it into the back of the truck, still lying on its side.
As soon as it was brought in, it was taken to MITOSAYA.
Once we got there, we had to do the reverse of the loading process. A crane was used to lift it into the building, and then a cart was used to carry it to the distillation room, where iron bars were assembled in the shape of a torii, and a hoist was attached to set up the distiller.
After the distillation machine was installed, we adjusted the level of the distillation machine and connected it to the gas and water supply later, but for now, the installation was finished.
I looked at the distiller that was up and running. It's a straight cylindrical shape with a beautiful stainless steel exterior that shines dully.
It remains to be seen whether I will be able to use it well or not, but I really like this distiller, which seems to be a form of the simple process of distillation itself, "adding heat to a liquid and cooling the vapor generated," as opposed to many of the ostentatious distillers that show off distillation as if it were magic.
How do you see what you cannot see?
I was a distiller in April, thinking about this as I turned the cylindrical shape horizontally and vertically.
