Fujianese rice wine (also called Ang Chow), is a reddish drink made from fermenting sweet rice using Koji (rice yeast). It’s a popular drink in the Fujian province in China, as well as with the Fuzhou speaking community across Southeast Asia. Having first heard of it four years ago, I’d been peeking into Chinese grocers every now and then looking for some. While it’s entirely legal to brew alcohol for home consumption, it’s illegal on several levels to then sell it, unlabeled, at a grocery store, which is the only way it can seemingly be found. Manufacturers, distributors, and vendors of alcohol all must pay substantial licensing fees and comply with strict safety precautions.

I spent three hours in Chinatown looking for the rice wine on a muggy August afternoon. I started along Canal Street, meandered down through the specialty stores and restaurants towards Doyards, then back up to across the alleyways of live crab and dessicated mushrooms to Grand, and then, finally, to the relative peace of East Broadway. Every few blocks I’d peek into coolers at corner stores looking for something reddish. Occasionally someone would ask what I was looking for, and when I said “rice wine” they said they didn’t have any. A few would guide me to their Shaoxing selection.

The store where I ultimately found what looked like rice wine was indistinguishable from the dozens of others, except perhaps for having a meat counter where one might expect a deli counter. It was relegated to a far corner of the refrigerator and looked a bit like a soup container filled with what looked like B-movie horror movie gore. The woman at the cash register looked up from reading a paper, smiled, and eyed me curiously. “You like to cook?” she asked. I told her I did and then asked if this was used for cooking. “It’s wine,” she said. Could you drink it? She nodded. Could you cook with it? She nodded, but less quickly. “Hard to explain,” she said. Walking into the heat, I nervously carried the container which seemed under pressure and threatened to burst at any moment.

I brought the container to Rebecca Cheong, a friend nearby who, in addition to being Singaporean and conversant in Mandarin, is also a seasoned and enterprising drinker. It didn’t resemble any rice wine she had ever witnessed. “Are you sure this is wine?” she asked. After consulting several food blogs, I decided it must be the unfiltered stage of the wine. All I needed to do was use some cheesecloth to extract the liquid. Rebecca offered to consult her grandmother and probe the woman back at the shop a bit more for information.

After experimenting with varying layers of coffee filters, I was able to squeeze a glass worth of the liquid from the container. While the container emitted a sour yeast smell, the liquid itself was remarkably sweet and full. It smelled closer to plum wine or Franzia than saké. The taste, however, was closer to vinegar. It was definitely alcoholic, but it was hard to decide how much through the varying levels of acid. After several more sips, I concluded that I had probably chosen a spoiled container.