He learned that microorganisms are the key to making good sake. Koji, the mold at the heart of the process, produces various enzymes as it grows on rice that has been steamed. Over time, it breaks down the starch to make fermentable sugars, which are in turn converted into alcohol by yeast.
Harper began the sake process at the bottom rung, assigned the lowliest jobs of hauling heavy bags and polishing rice, which removes the bitter outer shell from each grain.
He closely observed the ancient, almost feudal relationship between the master brewer and his wards. During sake season, which runs from October to March, the crew became a de facto family, living in stiflingly close quarters. They lived apart from their families because often there was too much work to do to go home. All observed a distinct hierarchy: No one lifted a chopstick, read a newspaper or took a bath until the master brewer had gone first.
He saw how hard the team worked to keep harmony because, as sake legend has it, brewery discord can be tasted in the product.
Still, barely able to understand the dialects spoken by fellow workers, he fought off the palpable sense that he didn't belong.
"Philip took no shortcuts and nobody threw him a bone," Timken says. "The brewery community was asking, 'What is this curly-haired white British guy doing trying to make our national brew?' People tried to take Philip's legs out from under him."
The first season was relentless. Harper broke his hand in a car crash but still showed up for work, afraid he would be seen as weak. One night he was so tired from work, he fell asleep on his bicycle and plunged into a river.
He also got married that year, to a Japanese woman, but took only two days off -- one for the ceremony and another for the honeymoon.
Over the years, Harper worked at various factories, each season a monk-like test of stamina and isolation. Slowly, he became fluent in Japanese and in 2001, earned his master brewer status, which involves passing a demanding exam.
He learned to describe his product using the language of a wine connoisseur, detecting in each sip flavors as varied as mushroom, melons, pears, even burnt caramel or cooling apples.
Then last year, Tamagawa's aged master brewer died after 45 years on the job. Owner Yoshito Konoshita almost closed his business, until someone recommended Harper.
