The nature of the mass media today is such that the truth is irrelevant.
- Paul Watson

IT’S LATE FALL AGAIN, the time of year the Japanese government-funded whaling fleet departs Shimonoseki and heads for the South Pacific hunting grounds, with the rich celebrity-funded ships of Sea Shepherd, skippered by Cap’n Paul Watson, in hot pursuit. In years past, the organization’s vessels have flown the Jolly Roger, an image that captures both their behavior and drugstore buccaneer attitude. Watson considers people who eat whale meat to be “cannibals”, which isn’t so surprising once you’ve seen his photograph. One of the SS’s crewmen called what they do “giant street theater”, and that meshes well with the 24/7 needs of the infotainment business.

This AFP report takes a vague stab at describing the concerns over any mishaps that might occur when the curtain comes up this year; the remoteness of the area would make rescue operations difficult. The AFP explains the potential for mishaps by referring to what it calls a “collision” last year between the SS’s Steve Irwin and one of the whaling ships. Those who would like to see last year’s two “collisions” for themselves can do so by accessing the video provided by Japan’s Institute of Cetacean Research (link on right sidebar). Another “collision” two years ago was even more blatant, as the ICR video showed an SS ship ramming one of the Japanese vessels from a 90 degree angle. The intent was obvious to anyone who has ever been a six-year-boy that played with other six-year-old boys by crashing toy trucks together.

That same year, the SS outfitted the Steve Irwin with a seven-foot steel blade on the starboard side to maximize the damage to the hulls of the ships it rammed. Demonstrating either their distinctive sense of humor or their personal fetishes, the SS called it a “hydraulic can opener” and threatened to give the Japanese a “steel enema”.

Ramming ships is one the many reasons people, organizations, and governments try to keep the SS at arm’s length. They’ve already sunk 10 vessels throughout the seven seas. Greenpeace refuses to even discuss them, while the anti-whaling Australians and New Zealanders have provided the Japanese whaling fleet with updates on SS ship movements. Here’s another taste of SS humor: They’ve painted the flags of the 10 victim ships’ countries of registration on the hull of one of their vessels, as if to cop a feel from World War II fighter pilots with little Rising Sun emblems painted around the cockpit. In addition to installing can openers, they’ve purposely reinforced the ship’s bow with concrete and steel. All the better to ram you with, my dear.

Greenpeace threw Watson out of the organization because it considered him a violent extremist that brought more harm than good to their cause. The vote of the Board of Directors was 11-1, with Watson himself being the lone dissenter.

The AFP merely refers to the SS as “militant protesters”. Unfortunately, the AFP can’t find the space to infotain their readers by dissecting Cap’n Paul’s nutzpah claim from last year that a sniper on one of the Japanese ships fired a gun at him. He tried to prove it by holding up a metal fragment for a TV crew on board ship and getting all in a huff’n’stuff.

How lucky for him that he was the only one of his crew to be wearing a bulletproof vest at the time, that “the bullet” struck an anti-poaching badge on his chest without leaving any marks, and that “the bullet” was nothing but a twisted piece of metal. In his book Earthforce!, Watson admitted that he’s down with the idea of making up facts and figures as a way to manipulate the media.

For their part, the Japanese authorities say they used flashbang devices against the SS ships, which are designed specifically to prevent shrapnel injuries.

Believing Mr. Watson would require that one also believe the Japanese were ready to abandon more than a half-century of pacifism and ruin their reputation for the rest of the century by taking a pot shot at a media whore parading in front of video cameras in the middle of a confrontation. These are the same Japanese whose national legislators twist themselves into pretzels over the question of whether to allow their military personnel to carry sidearms for self-protection during an assignment to a real war zone.

To steal a line from the American comedian Chris Rock: When did the words “crazy” and “ram” get eliminated from the dictionary?

International interest

The AFP also conveys the furrowed-brow concern of the foreign ministers of The Netherlands, Australia, and New Zealand, who hope that no one breaks any laws. The Dutch are involved because the SS ships are registered with that country and fly their flag of convenience. The vigilante fleet wound up with Dutch registration because Canada, the U.K., and Belize revoked theirs. It turned out those fun-lovin’ guys of the SS had claimed their ships were “pleasure craft”. Now even the anti-whaling Dutch say they are putting together legislation to wash their hands of them. Part of the deal to obtain Dutch registration was that the SS sign an agreement to comply with safety rules and not resort to violence.

Then again, one wonders how much of a priority this is for the Dutch. The Norwegians issued an arrest warrant for Watso after he tried to sink some of their smaller whaling ships in the early 90s. The Dutch took him into custody and held him for 80 days, but refused to extradite him. Maybe they were miffed that the Norwegians didn’t want to join the EU.

The Australians and the New Zealanders have gotten involved because their islands happen to be in the vicinity, they think whales are cuddly, and the Australians think they should be treated better than the way they themselves treat wallabies and kangaroos. That’s no excuse for the international news media to think the Australians and New Zealanders are more worthy of attention than other anti-whaling nations, however. Yes, they are close to the region, but they’re not directly affected by the Japanese activity. The Australians claim jurisdiction, but no one else recognizes the claim, and even they refer to it as “tenuous”.

Could it be that they receive coverage because they’re the closest countries whose population is mostly Caucasian? If you think that’s not a factor, imagine how interested the media would be if the whales were frolicking somewhere in the Indian Ocean and the two countries complaining were Madagascar and the Seychelles. But I digress.

The sailors’ tactics

Last year, the Japanese sprayed the SS ships with water cannon and played an amplified recording of noise that was said to resemble that of a smoke detector. This year the SS decided to bring some noise of their own, as the green gossip blog Ecorazzi reports:

Pete Bethune, captain of the new Sea Shepherd stealth boat “Ady Gil”, has revealed that he’ll be blaring the song “Tangaroa” from NZ musician Tiki Taan. “It’s a pretty spooky dark song and it’s got this sort of ethereal Maori chant going on it and I don’t think they’ll like it at all,” he told a NZ Radio station.

Here’s the YouTube video of Tangaroa. Listen for yourself to what the mocha latte warriors consider spooky, dark, and ethereal. Some might think it resembles the crowd noise during the second half of a rugby match instead. Cool dudes that they are, they probably also dug the skull on the t-shirt and the neck tattoo. Keepin’ it real!

The political tactics

Meanwhile, the new Japanese government seems to have developed a good cop, bad cop routine.

Remember, whatever you do, don't mention the war--er--warhl--uh--whale, yes, whale, that's it, never eat it myself, can't stand the taste.

The good cop is played by Japan’s Prime Minister Hatoyama Yukio. Mr. Hatoyama, who doesn’t seem to be the type to have smashed trucks at age six, met with Dutch Prime Minister Jan Peter Balkenende at the end of October and asked his government to deflag the SS’s mini-navy. That should have been enough, but no–for some reason he felt compelled to expound on his dietary habits, telling Dr. Balkenende, “I detest whale meat.” The Dutch prime minister promised that he would have legislation drawn up to allow for the deregistration of the SS ships.

Guess which part of the story got hit by the international news media spotlight. Guess what legislation hasn’t been written yet. Guess who has no one to blame but himself.

This wasn’t the first time the prime minister got entangled in some dippy diplomacy. Here’s an excerpt from a previous post:

Australian Foreign Minister Stephen Smith met on the 26th (2008) for talks with Hatoyama Yukio, the secretary-general of the opposition Democratic Party of Japan. Here’s a story the latter told Mr. Smith, according to a report in the Sankei Shimbun.

“Actually, my wife served some home-cooked whale this morning. I don’t believe in eating whale, so I turned it down, but it is in fact a popular dish on the Japanese table.”

Back-translating from the translation into Japanese, Smith’s reply was, “You’re a braver man than I. My policy is to eat everything my wife serves.”

Mr. Hatoyama later said his wife had made a type of whale stew for breakfast. He also explained that he didn’t eat whales because people from the district he represents in Hokkaido were trying to develop whale watching as a tourism resource.

And yes, it is stretching it a bit to have us believe that the wife of a politician in his 60s doesn’t know he refuses to eat whale and serves it to him in a breakfast stew on the very morning he is to meet the Australian foreign minister.

I’m not sure that Mr. Smith swallowed the story about the breakfast any more than Mr. Hatoyama swallowed his wife’s whale stew.

Well, what’s the real story? Does he refuse to allow whale meat to pass his lips because of his constituents, because he’s a politician who’ll say anything, or because he thinks whale tastes terrible? Having eaten whale in Japan that was better than beefsteak, and knowing this is not a hot-button issue for the Japanese, I’d place my chips on number two.

What Mr. Hatoyama did was put into practice an old Japanese proverb: Uso mo hoben, or, a lie can be expedient. Having also been on the receiving end of an expedient lie or two soon after coming to Japan, I can testify they do more harm than good. The listener knows dang well he’s being lied to, and suspects the expedient liar thinks him incapable of understanding something that’s easily understood to begin with.

Instead, he came off as what the Japanese call a happo bijin—literally, a beauty in eight directions, and figuratively, a phony who tries to please everyone.

And if that weren’t enough, why should he bring himself down to the level of Paul Watson?

It was something of a surprise, however, that the new Japanese government debuted a bad cop this year in the person of Foreign Minister Okada Katsuya. Demonstrating that there is more to the Japanese political pond than jellyfish, Mr. Okada told the Australians that the two countries’ food cultures were different and to get used to it. Only he said it more diplomatically.

This is a change from the previous Japanese insistence that they were whaling primarily for scientific reasons. The Institute of Cetacean Research actually does perform research into the tasty cetaceans brought back from the South Pacific and has had the results published in scientific journals, but the world has always assumed that was another expedient lie.

Bully for Mr. Okada, whether he eats whale meat or not. The Japanese political class might finally have become fed up with all the malarkey despite conducting themselves in exemplary fashion for more than a half-century. Some foreigners think they’re devious bastards that are a) ready to march back into East Asia at the drop of a hat, or b) ready to monopolize the world’s automotive and consumer electronics industries if they aren’t able to do a). Others think they deserve to have a voice in the content of Japanese school textbooks and the schedule of Japanese prime ministers on national days of memoriam. Still others expect them to behave as ATMs for the world whenever some other country comes up with another grand international scheme and demands cooperation.

It wouldn’t be surprising if a consensus of sorts of sorts has developed that, by Jingo, if they want to make us jump through all these other hoops, then we’re going to catch all the damn whales we please. And eat them, too!

If I might make so bold, perhaps it would be profitable to take one more step. Seeing as how the Australians insist on having a voice in the matter of Japanese whaling, it would be only fair to apply Australian rules to the game. To wit:

Australian Maritime Law, the Crimes (Ships and Fixed Platforms Act) 1992, Part 2, Division 1, Section 10:

“A person must not engage in conduct that causes damage to a private ship or its cargo, knowing that such damage is likely to endanger the safe navigation of the ship.

Penalty: Life imprisonment.”

They’ve already asked Interpol to issue arrest warrants for Watson.

This could cut two ways, however. On the one hand, it would have the benefits of giving him what he deserves and putting him out of circulation for a while. On the other hand, the huckster-at-heart might not mind that much; he’s seen the inside of jails in other countries before, and a stretch in what the Japanese call the pig box would give him the chance to play the martyr.

It might even give him the idea of channeling another vege-maniac on a mission who once led a band of misfits with a taste for street theater. After his release/parole/expulsion, he could write a book about his experiences and call it My Struggle.

UPDATE:
Reader Kushibo writes in to scold the “pro-whaling movement” for making Watson and SS the face of the “anti-whaling movement”.

I think not. The anti-whaling movement has got just the guy they want as their front man.

It takes a lot of money to purchase, outfit, equip, and operate ships on the high seas throughout the year. It also requires registration with a country. Watson doesn’t have any problem getting either.

The man has a rap sheet more than a quarter of a century long, but the Dutch asked him to sign an agreement that he would be a good boy. Are we to believe they’re surprised he didn’t live up to it? The Australians and others governments give him some mild harassment, but it amounts to little more than a perfunctory, “round up the usual suspects” gesture.

If the anti-whaling movement/governments didn’t want him as their face–particularly as their PR man for the media–he’d have been history long ago.

Afterwords:
There are several other posts linked to the Whales tag, but perhaps this one has the most intriguing opinion from an outside observer.

In Heaven there is no beer
That’s why we drink it here
And when we’re all gone from here
Our friends will be drinking all the beer.
- “In Heaven There Is No Beer”, Ernst Neubach and Ralph Maria Siegel (translated from the original German)

FRANKIE YANKOVIC and his Polka Kings once had a hit with the song, In Heaven There is No Beer, but he might have changed his tune had he known about the new microbrew on the market in Oita.

Showa-en, a Beppu, Oita-based company that operates ryokan (Japanese inns), is also involved in microbrewing. They’ve announced the sale of two new beers made with brown rice using a manufacturing method that attempts to utilize the yeast bouquet to the fullest extent possible. The method involves putting the yeast into a state of suspended animation through a three-step, low-temperature pasteurization process for which the brewer has received a patent. Company President Mochinaga (given name not confirmable) says, “Nowadays, everybody’s talking about costs, costs, and that’s why I wanted to make something authentic. I want to take this product nationwide.”

This is actually only one new beer brand with two varieties. The brand name is Namban Okoku Mugishu, which translates to “Barbarian Kingdom Beer”. In this case, however, namban means Christian—namban bungaku, or barbarian literature, was the term used for Christian literature centuries ago. The Christian appellation fits, as we’ll see in a second, but it’s not because Belgian monks are involved. Mugishu is what the Japanese used to call beer. The same Chinese characters for that word were used to create the Korean term mekju when the Japanese introduced Koreans to the delights of the beverage early last century. The word mugishu means “barley alcoholic beverage”, and yes, that is an odd name for a beer made with brown rice.

The first variety of the Namban Okoku Mugishi is named Don Otomo Sorin after a 16th Christian warlord who was the daimyo of the Bungo domain in what is now Oita. His original name was Otomo Yoshishige. Sorin was the name he took in 1562 when he became a Buddhist monk, which was after he met the Jesuit missionary Francis Xavier in 1551 and before he converted to Christianity in 1578.

During his days as daimyo, Sorin controlled most of Kyushu and was referred to as the King of Bungo in Jesuit records. His wife rather disliked Christianity, and they divorced. She is known in the same Jesuit records as Jezebel, which will come as no surprise. To grab this post by the collar and get it back on track, platinum powder is added to the beer during the finishing process. It sells for JPY 670 (about $US 7.55) for a 330-milliliter bottle (0.7 pint) and JPY 870 for a 500-milliliter bottle.

The second variety is a dark beer named Don Xavier—after Francis, of course—to which gold powder is added during the finishing process. The two sizes cost JPY 650 and JPY 860 respectively.

President Mochinaga said he devised the suspended animation yeast method five years ago after taking over the operation of the Yamaga Kirara microbrewery, which, by the way, is a public-private sector partnership. In Japan, these are called third sector companies, and they were quite the rage among local governments for a time. Nationwide, roughly 70% of the third sector companies are in the red, which will also come as no surprise, but there I go digressing again.

Most beers are pasteurized at a temperature of 60º C (140º F) for 20 minutes, but that kills the yeast. If the yeast is kept alive, however, its aroma constantly changes, and it’s difficult to maintain that for long periods of time. Mr. Mochinaga’s idea was to divide the pasteurization into three periods: two minutes at 55º C, one minute at 40º C, and two minutes at 40º C again. When the beer is shipped, the yeast is in a state of suspended animation, but after it is opened and drunk, it is resurrected, as Francis Xavier might say, inside the consumer’s body. The brewer claims this provides the drinker with amino acids. How many other beverages do you know of that build you up and tear you down at the same time?

Brewmaster Fukuda Rikiya thinks this is the first time anyone anywhere has tried to brew a beer using this method, and I’m inclined to believe him. He added there were many failures before they got the production line operating the way they wanted. Said President Mochinaga, “There are countless microbrews around the world, but few are commercially successful. I didn’t want to imitate the big brewers. I thought it was essential to create a new method of brewing from scratch,” and you can say that again. He is willing to talk about technology-sharing deals if other companies in Oita want to make a similar beer.

Namban Okoku Mugishu is sold at department stores, ryokan, and the prefecture’s airport. In combination with its other four brands—I don’t want to know—the company expects to produce 300,000 bottles a year.

Now tell the truth: Did you ever expect to read some of these words, expressions, and concepts in the same place at the same time?

So, who’s up for a beer run to Oita?

Afterwords: I dare you to click on that link to the song title!

WHAT DO YOU GET when you combine the Japanese love of new technology and gadgets with their insistence on food freshness and concerns caused by recent incidents of falsely labeled food products, particularly those from overseas?

Maritime mug shot

Several possibilities come to mind, but one is now undergoing trials conducted by the Nagasaki Prefectural Institute of Fisheries and the Yokohama-based National Research Institute of Fisheries Science. The two groups are working with a Nagasaki fishing cooperative to test the viability of a system in which tags with QR codes are placed on individual fish to allow consumers to trace the region where it was caught, the cooperative that caught it, the network used to distribute it, and the date it was shipped. It’s the first system of this type in Japan, and one of the innovations for this particular application is that the tags don’t require a special reader.

Here’s how it works: Consumers use their cell phones to photograph the QR code on the tag attached to the fish head, connect to the Internet, access a site jointly operated by the Japan Fisheries Association (link at right sidebar) and the Fishing Boat and System Engineering Association, and get the fish story firsthand. In fact, consumers don’t need even need a cell phone camera—they can get the same information by using their PCs to input the tag number at the website.

The fish being used for the trials is a type of horse mackerel (aji in Japanese) caught in the strait between the Goto Islands and Nagasaki Prefecture. Reports say this fish was selected because it’s easier to trace from catch to shipment, though the reports didn’t say why. Each of the 150 fish in the initial trial shipment weighs at least 250 grams (8.8 ounces). They will be sold for about JPY 1,000 apiece (about $US 11.11) within four or five days at Tokyo department stores, which are about 966 kilometers (600 miles) away from the point of shipment.

The two groups conducting the trial say the system could benefit consumers because it will enable them to quickly check fish quality and freshness. That’s not always easy to determine with the naked eye, and some Japanese distribution routes are complicated. The consumer will also know just where the fish was caught.

The fishing co-ops hope it promotes this particular kind of fish and boosts slack fish prices. The trials are also being used to determine the amount of work required to tag each fish and the amount of additional distribution costs. The system will go into full-scale operation if it functions smoothly and if the producers and the consumers are comfortable with it.

Here’s the website that will be used for the system, for those who read Japanese.

Now I ask you: Did you ever think you’d see the day when you could use your own telephone while shopping at a retail outlet to check the freshness of a fish on display in a bin?

COULD THIS BE the start of a trend? Here’s another example of the Japanese using a commonplace item for casual recreation to promote neighborhood amity and have some fun while they’re at it.

This May, we had a post about yacurling that described how some people in Tokushima had modified Japanese kettles, or yakan, to play curling on a gymnasium floor. Now here’s a report about a game created for the Kabocha Project in Nanyo, Yamagata. Kabocha is the word for squash in Japanese, and the folks in Nanyo came up with all sorts of ways to enjoy the food in an event they called the Kabolympics, timed to coincide with the autumn harvest.

Visitors to the Kabolympics had the chance to try their hand at ring toss and other amusements using the vegetable while feasting on such treats as squash doughnuts, squash ice cream, and squash soup. They were entertained by local singer-songwriter Sugai Tomo’o performing his composition, The Kabocha Song. And best of all, they got to bowl kabocha style.

In the Nanyo version of the game, 25-centimeter-tall butternut squash—usually found in soups—replaced the bowling pins. Instead of balls, they rolled red, white, or orange-striped Pucchini squash 10-20 centimeters in diameter. Ten 3-person teams completed—and they kept score.

Between the requirement that the bowlers yell Kabocha! before tossing every squash and the impossibility of rolling what amounts to a mini-pumpkin down a five-meter lane with any hope that it would go in a straight line or hit the intended spot, it wouldn’t be surprising if they all collapsed in helpless laughter before they finished 10 frames.

After a bit more research, it turns out that the folks in Nanyo really do have a thing about gourds. They also used kabocha for outdoor curling this February. Competing in what were probably the Winter Kabolympics were 13 teams with three members each. They slid a squash instead of a curling stone at an 80-centimeter-wide target 15 meters away.

They had to yell Kabocha! before each shot, too.

What could be next? Using gobo (burdock root) for javelin competitions?

PICK ALMOST ANY TOPIC as a point of departure for exploring Japan, and it’s a near certainty that a fountain-full of serendipitous discoveries will emerge in short order. Even when the topic is boaring!

The Japanese have eaten inoshishi (boar) meat, sometimes known as brawn, since ancient times, most often in stews in the winter. But boars are extremely skittish around people, perhaps as an evolutionary response for staying out of boiling cauldrons of water. They usually hightail it for cover as soon as they spot a human, making them difficult to hunt.

The meat of wild animals was considered taboo at times in the past in Japan, though that taboo was often ignored in mountainous areas. The hardy mountaineers kept eating boar meat, which was also known as yamakujira, or mountain whale (not to be confused with mountain oysters), due to a similarity in taste and texture. That’s a yamakujira shop depicted in the Hiroshige print. A Kansai rakugo comic routine called Buying Boar in Ikeda, which dates from 1707, relates the story of a man with gonorrhea who travels with a hunter in search of some wild game. (No, no, not that kind of game!) Izu, Shizuoka, was once the home of the Amagi Wild Boar Theme Park, and was enough of an attraction to draw as many as 400,000 visitors in 1985. It was shut down for good last year due to declining interest and the economic turndown.

The Japanese also consider the animal a pest, both in urban and rural areas. Packs of wild boar have been known to roam city streets at night, rooting through garbage and generally being rude and ugly. Farmers dislike them because they trample, root up, and eat crops. In fact, they’ve gotten so boorish in Takeo, Saga, the municipal government established a department this April and assigned it the task of finding ways to reduce the local population.

In a classic case of making lemonade when life hands you a lemon, the city employees hit on the idea of making boar meat a special local product and marketing it nationwide. To give local hunters an added incentive to track down the animals and sell the meat, they worked with a local butcher to create food products that can be eaten year-round.

The accompanying photo was taken at a recent event in which sausage and bacon-like products made from 100% boar meat were presented to the public for tasting. The boar for the breakfast table will hit the market later this month, selling for JPY 1,000 (about $US 10.25) for a 200-gram package. Lemongrass and spices have been added to the sausage to enhance the taste. The butchers have also developed a lunchmeat product resembling smoked ham, which will sell for JPY 500 yen for 60 grams. They plan to roll out hamburger- and roast ham-like products this fall.

Though the Amagi Wild Boar Theme Park no longer exists, those people who can’t live without boar exhibits in their lives might consider a trip to the Go’o Shinto shrine near the geographical center of Kyoto. All Shinto shrines have statues of what are called koma-inu, or guardian dogs. In 1890, the Go’o shrine took the somewhat eccentric step of replacing their statues of guardian dogs with those of boars.

Since most boars are chicken and likely to run in the other direction when they sense a threat, they would not seem to be a logical candidate for selection as the guardian of anything. Ah, but the shrine had its reasons. One of the shrine’s tutelary deities is Wake-no-Kiyomaro, a Japanese government official who lived in the 8th century. He is known for his efforts to separate church (or rather, Buddhist temple) and state. After he became entangled with Imperial succession intrigues and fraudulent oracles at the Usa Shinto shrine, the ruling powers exiled him, had the sinews of his legs cut, and nearly killed him. He was later recalled from exile to serve in government again, and convinced the tenno (emperor) Kammu to build a new capital at Kyoto instead of Nagaoka.

The story goes that he was set upon by assassins as he was limping along the road on his way to exile. He was saved in the nick of time by the sudden appearance of a herd of 300 wild boars. Sometimes the cavalry arrives on something other than horseback!

The Japanese expression chototsumoshin (猪突猛進), the first kanji of which is that for boar, means a headlong rush, and also has the nuance of rashness in action. Now combine that with the boars’ providential rescue of the hobbled Wake-no-Kiyomaro. That was enough to make the shrine a destination for those seeking divine assistance to ensure sound lower limbs, regardless of their current condition. Petitioners include both those in wheelchairs or people who use canes, as well as ekiden runners and soccer players.

Given the ever-fertile Japanese imagination, it was inevitable that someone would put two and two and two together to combine boar cuisine and their straight line foot speed to come up with a new form of entertainment. The folks in Sasayama, Hyogo, have been holding Inoshishi Festivals for several years now in January that draw upwards of 20,000 people. What’s the big attraction? After dining on different dishes featuring wild boar meat, the revelers head for a nearby track to watch the boar races.

But the feast comes first, of course, and several well-known area restaurants set up a special area where they offer original cuisine, including boar meat soup, boar croquettes, and oden. The meals are reportedly so tasty that the diners form lines to enter one shop while eating the offerings of another. The restaurants usually sell out their stock every year.

Then it’s time for the main event, which features wild boars sprinting around an enclosed track. The trotters are given ear-catching names, just as if they were thoroughbreds running the Triple Crown. Can’t you almost hear the track announcer barking out the name of one contestant? “Heading into the far turn, it’s Dekan Showboy by a snout.” The reports don’t mention whether parimutuel betting is allowed.

Now I ask you–where else can you get the chance to spend a day at the races and eat the entrants!

Afterwords:
The idea of making lunchmeat out of brawn is not originally Japanese, as a look at this British website will show. They even sell boar meat salami. Note the high protein and low fat content compared to other meats.

A CONTROVERSY HAS ERUPTED in Scotland over a new beer created by the microbrewers BrewDog that has the highest alcohol content by volume of any beer in the U.K.: 18.2%. James Watt, one of the brewery founders, said their goal was to create high-quality “progressive” beers with exceptional taste that encouraged safe alcohol consumption and kept people from drinking too much.

Scotland and the rest of the U.K. have been dealing with a serious binge drinking problem, however. As you can imagine from that staggering alcohol content, the criticism of the beer—actually an oak-aged imperial stout—has been loud and immediate.

• Alcohol Focus Scotland chief executive Jack Law:

“This company is completely deluded if they think that an 18.2% abv (alcohol by volume) beer will help solve Scotland’s alcohol problems. It is utterly irresponsible to bring out a beer which is so strong at a time when Scotland is facing unprecedented levels of alcohol-related health and social harm.”

• The British Liver Trust:

“The notion of binge-drinking is to get drunk quick, so surely this beer will help people on their way?”

• Ross Finnie, the Scottish Liberal Democrats’ health spokesman:

“I am not sure at all what place producing stronger strength beer has in a Scottish society where, across all age groups and all socio-economic categories, the medical evidence is that, as a nation, we are drinking too much alcohol.”

The brewer has its defenders as well. Zak Avery, a former UK Beer Writer of the Year:

“To claim that this type of beer is part of the alcohol abuse problem is akin to blaming Michelin-starred restaurants for the oft-reported obesity epidemic.”

Yet one aspect of this story that doesn’t seem to be piquing anyone’s interest is the name of this beer.

It’s called Tokyo* (with the asterisk).

Now what could the reason be for that?

Most people overseas would associate Japan with sake when thinking of alcoholic beverages. While there are some fine beers in Japan, the country is not known for oak-aged imperial stout. Most of the beer on the market here is no higher than 5%-5.5% alcohol by volume. In fact, one company is promoting a new brew it just released with a large number 7 on the container denoting that it has 7% alcohol by volume. (Asahi, I think, but I’m not sure.)

Tokyo* beer is made with jasmine, cranberries, malts and American hops, and is fermented with a champagne yeast to boost the alcohol content. None of those ingredients has a Japanese connection. Binge drinking is not really a problem here.

BrewDog has gotten in hot water before over the name of one of its products. They named a beer Speedball, which is a slang term for a mixture of heroin and cocaine. The brewery claimed then it was producing a quality product for responsible drinking and was educating people from misusing drugs. (Does there seem to be a pattern developing?) A local liquor watchdog group sent a non-binding letter to merchants asking them not to sell the product unless the name was changed.

There are no reports of the group thinking there was anything wrong with this name.

So the company has already produced one beer and “pushed the envelope”, as they say, by giving it a name with strong connotations of dangerous, illegal behavior and death. Is the intent the same with this product? You know, kamikaze pilots, World War II…

The spirits industry likes to promote itself this way. We’ve all heard the stories about the pictures of skulls hidden in ice cubes in magazine liquor advertisements. And really, naming a beer Speedball is blatant.

What would the Scottish reaction be if a Japanese brewery produced a new type of sake with an ABV content more than triple that of ordinary sake and named it after one of their cities? Raucous drunken laughter? Pride in the national reputation abroad?

The company also produces a beer named Trashy Blonde. Why should Japan be flattered to be included in a product lineup like that?

If I were the Japanese ambassador—or in the Foreign Ministry—I might want to have a word with someone in the Scottish government.

Afterwords:

Scotland is not known for a healthful attitude toward food and drink to begin with. They even eat deep-fried chocolate bars.

Not surprisingly, the residents have the lowest life expectancy of any developed country in the world.

UPDATE: Reader Durf sends along a link to an Internet beer merchant in York for a Cumbrian ale known as “Dent Kamikaze”, which is a mere 5% alcohol by volume. Fortunately, the illustration on the label is of a ram’s head other than something more lurid.

BAREFOOTIN’ IN TEE-SHIRTS and short pants, all the better to deal with the 30-minute turnarounds of pouring rain and blazing sun: yeah, summer has arrived at last in Japan. During the dog days, the archipelago offers all sorts of hot-weather delights, including watermelon, shaved ice, and best of all, the transformation of even the most neo-radical of young women into traditional beauties once they exchange their jeans for yukata (a summer kimono).

What else is going on up and down the islands? Well, take a look and find out!

Firefly festivals

Once upon a time, summer nights on the East Coast of the United States came alive with a light show au naturel created by fireflies. The march of progress and suburbia seems to have ended all that, but the lightning bugs, as we used to call them, are still alive and flickering in the countryside here.

This is Japan, so take it as given that people know just when to expect their appearance every year, just how long it will last, and how to organize the viewing parties and festivals held to coincide with those dates.

Lightning bugs!

The photo shows the fireflies near the Ayu River in Tanabe, in the southern part of Wakayama. It’s one of several locations in the area known as superb firefly viewing sites from the end of May to the beginning of June.

But as with the cherry blossoms and the rainy season, the firefly front keeps marching north, and right now the folks in Yonezawa, Yamagata, are enjoying a month-long firefly festival at the Onogawa spa. The festival is sponsored by the spa’s tourism association and the Yonezawa Firefly Protection Society. The opening ceremony was held at the local memorial firefly tower to pray for the safety of the participants during the event. Those Yonezawans must really like fireflies!

It’s not a festival in Japan without liquor, so right after the prayers they perform another centuries-old ritual by knocking open the head of a sake barrel with wooden hammers and passing the hooch around. They say some people see double when they drink too much, so you can imagine the sort of visions that light up the retinas of the festival-goers when a wave of fireflies floats by.

The viewing in Yonezawa begins on the riverbank right after it gets dark at 8:00 p.m. and lasts until 9:00. The area is such a firefly mecca that three different species breed here, and who but the entomologists knew there were different types of lightning bugs? For a spot of relaxation after all this excitement, the open-air baths stay open until nine, and there’s a tea house set up temporarily next to the firefly tower. The festival fun lasts until 31 July, but some people like to time their visit for the amateur entertainment contest on the 4th and 5th.

Hatsukiri

Sliding over from zoology to botany, here’s a photo of the festival held by the Miyajidake Shinto shrine in Fukutsu, Fukuoka, for the first cutting of Edo irises in a local garden. The purpose of the event, called Hatsukiri—first cutting, appropriately enough—is to present the irises as an offering to the divinities. They’ve got plenty of flowers from which to choose, because the garden has 30,000 individual plants. While the priests grunt, bend over, and swing their scythes, two miko hold irises as they perform a dance accompanied by a flute. More than 200 people came to watch. A small turnout, you say? That’s not a bad crowd for watching two girls perform a centuries-old dance in costume in a garden in a town of 56,000 while priests cut flowers. How many people would show up where you live?

The shrine held its Iris festival on the same day. They place 70,000 irises in front of the shrine and light ‘em up until 9:00 p.m. for 10 days. The shrine has its own iris garden too, started from bulbs sent by the Meiji-jingu in Tokyo in 1965. They now have 100,000 plants in 100 varieties. That’s a heck of a lot of irises, but they need that many to go around for all of Shinto’s yaoyorozu divine ones. (Yaoyorozu is the traditional number of divinities in Shinto. It literally means eight million, but figuratively represents an infinite number, signifying that each natural object has a divine spirit.)

Seaweed cutting

Irises weren’t the only flora getting cut for a Shinto ritual. Four priests from the Futamikitama Shinto shrine in Ise, Mie, boarded a boat with some miko and sailed offshore for some seaweed cutting. They present the seaweed—fortunately an uncountable noun—to the divinities, allow it to dry out for a month, and then distribute it to their parishioners to drive out bad fortune and eradicate impurities.

At 10:30 a.m., the priests set sail on their skiff festooned with red, yellow, green, purple, and white streamers, with bamboo grass placed at bow and stern, and headed for the special seaweed site 770 meters northeast of the Futami no Meoto, sometimes called the Wedded Rocks. (The word meoto designates a pair of something, one large and one small.) Since this is a special ritual, they can’t just start cutting—first they have to circle the divine Kitama rock on the seabed three times, then they haul out a three-meter long sickle and get to work.

Sea goya

Since the subject is aquatic plants, now’s as good a time as any to report that the Fukuka Aquaculture Center in Kin-machi, Okinawa, is ramping up production of a new variety of sea grapes they hope to popularize in Japan after sales start next month. The center has dubbed the new type “sea goya”, after the knobby bitter squash for which Okinawa is famous. (Here’s a previous post about sea grapes in Okinawa and goya in general.)

Tastes as good as it looks!

The center’s director said they discovered these particular sea grapes among a batch imported in March 2008. The new variety flourished in the southern climate, and that gave people the idea to turn it into a new product, particularly as they were looking for ways to juice the market after the prices of regular sea grapes and mozuku seaweed tanked.

They decided to call the new plant sea goya because it’s more elongated than regular sea grapes and has the bitter flavor of goya. The center has already applied to register the name as a trademark, and they’re confident the application will be approved. After hearing about the new product, more than 10 companies inquired about handling the distribution.

Nara ayu

After insects, irises, seaweed, and sea grapes, here come the freshwater fish: namely the ayu, or sweetfish, which we’ve encountered before in a post about their encounters with traditional traps.

Some sweetfish just for you

These sweetfish, however, were caught by means with an even longer and exalted pedigree—trained cormorants. The birds require keepers that are somewhat analogous to falconers, all of whom ply their skills for the Imperial Household Agency because the technique is a tradition of the Japanese Imperial household. (Dig their costumes in the photo at the link.)

Six keepers were employed to catch the fish at the Imperial fishing grounds on the Nagara River in Gifu City, but the keepers can handle up to a dozen birds on the end of ropes, so they must have taken quite a haul. They go out in boats too, but at night, and they take along lighted torches. The fish are attracted to the flame like maritime moths, and the birds dive in after them. The lower part of the cormorants’ necks are collared to prevent them from swallowing the fish, and after they’ve snatched one, the keepers reel them in and make them cough it up. That’s got to be more cruel than feeding a dog peanut butter.

The fish were packed into paulownia boxes and shipped to the Kashihara-jingu, a Shinto shrine in Kashihara, Nara, as well as the Imperial Palace and the Meiji-jingu, another Shinto shrine in Tokyo. Both shrines have an Imperial connection.

The Japanese have been using cormorants to catch sweetfish since at least the 8th century—don’t you wonder who came up with that idea?–and the Nagara River event is more than a millennium old, but this shrine has been receiving the sweetfish shipments only since 1940 to offer in prayer for the safety of fishing and a good catch. (The 1940 date suggests it might have begun as part of the celebrations that year marking the 2600th anniversary of the establishment of the Japanese Imperial House.)

Contributing to the delinquency of minors

Yet another sign of summer in Japan is the yaoyorozu of rice-planting festivals held throughout the country. It’s easy to figure out why—they grow the rice in wet paddies, which are made even wetter by all the rain that falls this time of year.

But the students at Miyoshi High School in Miyoshi, Tokushima, weren’t planting this rice as part of a festival; they were getting classroom credit. The lads aren’t planning to be farmers when they grow up–rather, they’re enrolled in a course covering the brewing and fermentation of food products. They’ll harvest that rice in the fall and use it to make sake.

The rice is grown on a 3,000-square-meter paddy the school rents from area residents. The teachers do most of the planting with a machine, and then some of the second year students wade right in and plant by hand those parts the machine can’t reach. They expect to harvest 1.5 tons of the rice in mid-September, which can probably be converted into enough sake to keep the town of Miyoshi more lit than a riverbank full of fireflies until New Year’s. The school started the project last year, and this year they increased the size of the cultivated area six-fold to use only the rice grown by students.

One of those students, 16-year-old Fukuda Shinya, had planted rice before, but he said the seedlings were more difficult to handle because the size was different than that of regular table rice.

Now why couldn’t I have gone to that school!

Shochu collector

While the high school students were outdoors sweating and getting dirty as they planted the rice for the sake they will later brew, Masuyama Hiroki (73) of Izumi, Kagoshima, was relaxing with an adult beverage as he contemplated the success of his 12-year effort to collect one bottle each from all the prefecture’s shochu distillers. This is Kagoshima, where everyone drinks shochu and almost no one drinks sake, so he had his work cut out for him.

He’s so proud of his accomplishment he’s got them lined up on the wall, and hasn’t twisted the cap on a single bottle. Mr. Masuyama decided to make it is hobby after he retired from a job with the prefectural government in 1996 and started working in sales. His business trips took him throughout Kagoshima, and after he got the idea—probably in a bar during one of those business trips–he made a list and started buying while he was selling. He started with 1.8 liter (1.92 US quarts) bottles, but they were too heavy and took up too much space, so he switched to bottles half that size. He had a few difficulties completing the collection, and no, one of them wasn’t a tendency to polish off a bottle before before he could display it on the rack. For one thing, the smaller bottles were sold mainly to commercial establishments, but he applied his salesmen’s skills to get what he wanted. Another was that he didn’t have much of a chance to go to the prefecture’s many outlying islands on business. After retiring from his second job, it took two more years to finish the project.

Mr. Masuyama says he enjoys looking at his collection while having a late-night drink, but his libation doesn’t come from those shelves on the wall. He hasn’t opened any of the bottles and says it would be a waste to drink them.

Now there’s a man with discipline!

Miko class

Shinto shrine maidens, known as miko, get to do all sorts of fun stuff. In this post alone, they’ve sailed out to the Wedded Rocks to help the priests cut seaweed, carried the sacred sweetfish caught by cormorants, and danced while the priests cut Edo irises in Fukutsu. Even better, they get to handle the money at the shrine during New Year’s.

Doesn’t that sound like a great part-time job? If that’s the kind of work you’re looking for, the Kanda Myojin Shinto shrine in Chiyoda, Tokyo, is offering a beginner’s level course that provides instruction in how to become a miko. Even better, the class will last only one day, on 17 August—the middle of summer vacation!

Kanda Myojin conducts the class every year with the idea of giving young Japanese women a better idea of their traditions and culture, as well as teaching them more about the shrine. Last year, the student body consisted of 24 women who got to wear the red and white outfit for a day as they studied the shrine’s history, the daily conduct of affairs at the shrine, and its religious ceremonies.

Considering they charge only JPY 5,000 yen ($US 52.40), that sounds like a good deal. They’re looking for 20 unmarried young women this year from 16 to 22, and enrollment is open until the end of the month.

The declaration of the eisa nation

Start with a party, end with a party. This particular hoedown is the eisa dance native to Okinawa. Centuries ago, it was performed as a rite for the repose of the dead, but now it’s done for entertainment and is more likely to wake the dead than ease their way into the next world.

Okinawa City issued a proclamation declaring itself Eisa Town earlier this month, and held a Declaration Day Eisa Night event outside the city offices to lay claim to the title. Six groups made their eisadelic statement as they performed in original/trad clothing they created themselves. Eisa Night means that eisa season has officially started in the city, and summer in this city means that local youth groups will give public performances every weekend until the really big show, the Okinawa Eisa Festival in September.

During her greeting at the ceremony, Mayor Tomon Mitsuko said, “We hope you come to Okinawa City on the weekends and enjoy yourselves.” Then the dancing started and everyone proceeded to do just that.

It’s not just for the Ryukyuans, either. One of the six groups performing was the Machida-ryu of Machida, Tokyo, who started their own group in 1999 after a trip to Okinawa. They were so captivated by the dance they had to do it themselves at home. Now the troupe has more than 100 members.

There’s an idea: create your own Okinawan dance and drum ensemble and visit Eisa Town next year. If you want to learn, watching the video is a great way to start!

SOME PEOPLE THINK Japanese schools stifle the imagination of their students, but you can’t prove that by me. I’ve associated with Japanese school-age children for the better part of a quarter of a century, and I’ve found them every bit as imaginative as the children I knew growing up in the United States, if not more so.

Scrumptious!

Now a group of students at the Yonezawa Commercial High School in Yonezawa, Yamagata, are displaying a creative imagination above and beyond that of some adults who get paid to do it for a living.

The members of the Research Club at the 107-year-old school delight in creating new food products. One of their past triumphs was cookies made with powdered locusts. They named them inagoma cookies, combining the word for locust, or inago, and sesame, or goma.

But they’ve outdone themselves this time. In March, their faculty advisor assigned this year’s research theme, which was to create something new by using the wisdom of the past. So the students, mostly 11th-graders, came up with the idea of making two different kinds of rolled cakes: one with miso and the other with natto.

Miso is a traditional seasoning made most often by fermenting rice and soybeans with salt to create a paste used in a variety of dishes. Most people outside of Japan are familiar with it as the base for the stock in miso soup, or miso shiru. Soldiers in Japan ate it as part of their rations several centuries ago, so that aspect fulfilled the requirement for the wisdom of the past.

While fewer foreigners know about natto, it’s the type of food one never forgets after a close encounter. It too is a fermented soybean, using a smaller type of bean with a special bacteria that results in a distinctive odor and a sticky consistency. Pick it up with chopsticks and you’ll see translucent gummy strings holding it together. There are several ways to eat it, but it’s usually spread over rice. Most people have trouble with the odor in the same way that some cheeses in Europe and the Middle East cause problems, though its smell is not as intense as that of limburger cheese, to cite one example.

Students at the school used to sell natto in the 1920s and 1930s to raise money for their tuition, so that also dovetailed with their research theme.

The rolled cakes are five centimeters (about two inches) in diameter and 13 centimeters long, with the miso and natto mixed into the cream. The students said they found it difficult to maintain a balance of tartness and sweetness with the miso roll. The natto is not in bean form, but a paste. The trick with that ingredient was to keep the odor in check but to retain the stickiness.

A local confectionary produces it for them, and you can imagine what the bakers must have said to each other when they found out what they would be making. The students got the last laugh, however; they took 60 rolls to a local event, offered them for JPY 500 ($US 5.19) apiece, and sold out completely. If they’re that good, it won’t be long before local beaneaters with a sweet tooth beat a path to their door. But the idea is not as unusual as it might seem; several traditional Japanese pastries are made with sweet bean paste (and are quite good).

Said 16-year-old Takahashi Shiho:

“We wanted to make products that weren’t sold anywhere else.

And they succeeded, too!

“Those are unusual combinations, but they have a rich taste.”

If the idea of miso or natto in a confection doesn’t sound appealing, think of it as a health food. Both of those ingredients are seriously nutritious, packed to the gills with protein, vitamins, and minerals. Natto is also said to be good for preventing blood clotting, and therefore heart attacks and strokes.

That’s my justification for eating natto every day, even though I didn’t care for the smell at first, either. My wife, for whom natto is a daily culinary event, found a clever way to get around my reluctance. She heard that the odor and the stickiness are minimized somewhat if the natto is mixed with grated daikon radish. After about a year of eating that combination I got accustomed to it. Then she decided it was too much trouble to keep grating the daikon every day, but by that time I was already housebroken and didn’t notice any more!

WALTER LIPPMAN ONCE OBSERVED that the popular conceptions of people, places, and events outside the range of our direct experience are informed by pictures inside our heads, and that these pictures are often created by journalists incapable of seeing beyond the pictures in their own heads.

As long as we realize that the prime directive for the print and broadcast media has always been to entertain rather than to inform, the damage will be no greater than that caused by the stories we habitually tell ourselves in our daily lives anyway. The problems arise when the journalistic drones start believing the pictures they create and cause real trouble by spreading falsehoods among people without the means to educate themselves otherwise.

While this phenomenon exists in the print and broadcast media everywhere, it is endemic in the overseas English-language media dealing with Japan. The pictures in their heads amount to a full-blown hallucination.

Here are brief descriptions of three newspaper articles that appeared today, all about the preparation of food. What sort of cognitive dissonance is created with the pictures in your head when you read them?

Japanese cooking school in Seoul

Shunted off to the side of page 11 in the Nishinippon Shimbun was a brief article covering the announcement that the Nakamura Culinary School of Fukuoka City will open a Seoul branch in September to provide instruction in the preparation of Japanese cuisine and Western confections. Licensed chefs in both fields will teach the classes assisted by Korean interpreters.

The school will offer two courses—one for prospective chefs, and one for professionals already working as chefs. The course for the pros will be limited to 24 students, and will include 132 hours of instruction over a six-month period. In addition to the school’s regular instructors, food preparers at well-known Japanese hotels, ryotei (traditional Japanese restaurants, very expensive) and patisseries will also be used as teachers for the course.

The Nakamura Culinary School thinks it sees a business opportunity because there has been a surge of popularity in Japanese food in South Korea over the past few years. More than 1,000 South Koreans came to Japan last year alone to learn how to prepare Japanese food at local culinary institutes.

But the sharp depreciation of the won caused attendance to dip this year. School head Nakamura Tetsu decided to offer instruction in Seoul to make it cheaper for the students. It’s also easier for the students to learn from courses conducted in the Korean language. (Instruction at cooking schools in Japan is of course entirely in Japanese.)

The article notes this is the second cooking school to open a South Korean branch, after Osaka’s Tsuji Culinary Institute.

Now how does this—and the many other similar stories I’ve presented here—clash with the pictures in the heads of people who have been entertained with tales about how the Koreans and the Japanese just hatehatehate each other?

Incidentally, the Fukuoka Asian Urban Research Center conducted a survey by questionnaire in February and March of residents in the major cities of South Korea to determine the city’s name recognition and its image in those areas. The survey found a name recognition of greater than 80% for their sister city in Busan, South Korea. That percentage soared to 95% for Busan women in their 20s and 30s.

The reason cited by the center for that stratospheric percentage among young Korean women was the frequency with which they or their friends hop across the Korean Strait to go shopping in Kyushu.

That doesn’t surprise me at all, but then I live near Fukuoka City, have seen and met many of those same young women, and know how easy it is to travel between the two cities because I’ve done it myself. Forgive me for believing the picture inside the dim cave of my own head.

The reggae izakaya

Takeo in Saga is a town of about 50,000 people roughly midway between the two slightly larger towns of Saga City and Sasebo, Nagasaki. It takes about a half hour to get from Takeo to either city, and an additional hour or so to travel to either Nagasaki City or Fukuoka City.

Buried even further in the back of today’s Nishinippon Shimbun was a blurb about a new dish being served at a “reggae izakaya” in Takeo called Nuf Nuf. (An izakaya is a traditional Japanese eating and drinking place.)

Nuf Nuf is run by 36-year-old Koga Manabu. The photo accompanying the piece showed a man with a genial smile and a knit tam covering what appears to be an impressive growth of dreadlocks.

Mr. Koga created a new dish that his customers think is quite tasty. He started with Sicilian rice, added wild boar meat, and used locally grown lemongrass as a flavor enhancer. He said he slices the boar meat very thin to neutralize its distinctive odor.

He offered it first at a trial tasting party on 31 May, and it went over so well he put it on the Nuf Nuf menu. He serves it with soup on the side and charges JPY 800 ($US 8.14), which sounds reasonable.

I’ve never been to Nuf Nuf, but I know people who have—including a Jamaican woman who enjoyed living in Saga for several years. She told me Koga Manabu was a nice guy and the food was good.

But aren’t the Japanese supposed to be xenophobic islanders turning even more inward and nationalistic? What’s this about some guy in dreadlocks in a town in the middle of the sticks creating new recipes using Sicilian rice? He’s going to ruin all those pictures in your head of Japanese who can’t abide foreigners or bear to put any kind of rice past their lips other than the plain but pure white variety grown on the islands.

Robo-chefs to take over Japanese kitchens

That’s what the headline in the New Zealand Herald said, and who are we to quibble with a source chosen as the Best Media Website in 2007, 2008, and 2009 in the Qantas Media Awards?

Here’s the first sentence in the article:

“They’ve got ones that clean, and others that pour drinks, so it was only a matter of time before Japanese inventors came up with robots that can cook.”

Just out of curiosity, have you seen one of those robots cleaning a house or pouring your drinks anywhere?

Neither have I.

But the best media website for three years running says it was just a matter of time before those robot-mad Japanese inventors came up with robot chefs.

Various prototype robo-chefs showed off their cooking skills at the International Food Machinery and Technology Expo in Tokyo, flipping “okonomiyaki” Japanese pancakes, serving sushi and slicing vegetables.

When did machines start to have “skills” instead of functions? And when did either machines or people start to “flip” okonomiyaki? Is poetic license the reason they’ve won that string of awards? It certainly isn’t because the person who wrote that article has seen anyone make those “Japanese pancakes”.

The real story here is that the Japanese have a knack for automating different types of labor that the biens pensants once lamented as dehumanizing, particularly on assembly lines in auto plants.

Robots are also efficient, dependable, show up for work sober and on time, and don’t have labor unions that demand retirement packages preventing the company from making a profit on the cars they manufacture. Ask the management personnel who used to work at General Motors, assuming you don’t have to chase them down on the golf course while they enjoy their severance packages.

“We all know that robots can be very useful. We want to take that utility out of the factory so that they can be used elsewhere,” said Narito Hosomi, president of Toyo Riki, manufacturers of the pancake-cooking robot.

Well, why not? Isn’t this just a logical progression from machines that mix carbonated water and flavored syrup in on-site dispensers at restaurants to give customers the soft drinks they order? Or the machines at any other plant the world over that manufacture and package food products in processes that are almost entirely automated?

Take a few seconds to think about it, and it turns out to be just the normal course of events in the development of any kind of technology. People come up with different ideas, spend the time and money to make them a reality, and see if they fly in the marketplace. If their ideas are useful, they make a profit. If not, they might be able to apply the new technology to different fields. It makes the world turn around that much more smoothly, and it’s even worth an article in the daily paper.

But how much more entertaining it is to create pictures in peoples’ heads of Robo-Chefs Taking Over Japanese Kitchens to flip okonomiyaki, presumably leaving the human Japanese to march around their rabbit hutches plotting new ways to conquer the Korean Peninsula! This time for sure! Taking an occasional break for sex with their inflatable dolls, of course.

If the media thinks they have to provide fictitious images to their consumers for the sake of entertainment, when the real information is much more entertaining, more enlightening—and much less dangerous—that’s the business model they have to live with.

But it’s too bad for them the soaring number of media bankruptcies and disappearing ad revenue isn’t just a picture inside their own heads.

ANYONE WHO’S EVER EATEN nigirizushi knows about wasabi—the green, horseradish-like paste spread between the fish on top and the rice on the bottom. Yet few who’ve eaten it realize all the trouble people went through to get that condiment on the sushi to begin with, and to keep it fresh once it got there.

For one thing, the wasabi is purposely placed between the fish and the rice to preserve its pungency. The paste quickly loses its distinctive flavor and aroma when exposed to the air. In fact, just about everything involved with the cultivation and preparation of wasabi takes time and trouble. Take a look at the accompanying photo, for example. It shows Murakami Takeo and his wife Torae, both in their 80s, harvesting their wasabi crop last week.

The Murakamis grow their wasabi in the shallows of the Tani River that flows behind their home in Tanabe, Wakayama. There are two types of wasabi, and the kind the Murakamis cultivate is called sawa wasabi. That variety must be grown in pure, constantly flowing water—the colder the better. The couple planted this crop two years ago in the sandy river soil, around which they’ve built a stone wall.

They have to harvest the plant by hand, pulling out the main root from the earth and removing the leaves and smaller hairy roots. They’ll put two kilograms of the roots in a specially built wooden box to ship to market, because the roots also go bad quickly. Some of their wasabi will be sold at shops in the city that purchase produce directly from the farmers.

Wasabi grows wild in Japanese stream beds and mountain river valleys. The Japanese themselves think they’ve been eating it since the Nara period, which occurred during the 8th century, but the plant is so difficult to cultivate they didn’t successfully farm it until 800 years later in what is now Shizuoka City. The story goes that some was given in feudal tribute to Tokugawa Ieyasu, the founder of Japan’s last shogunate in 1603, and the great man loved it so much he forbade its use outside his castle. It began to be used for soba and sushi during the Edo period, which ran from the early 17th century to 1868. Today, Nagano is the top wasabi producing prefecture when the crops of both the sawa variety and the soil-grown variety are combined.

The distinctive spiciness is due to allyl isothiocyanate, and inhaling the vapor from the plant has been shown to have an effect similar to smelling salts. In fact, some Japanese researchers are trying to use the wasabi odor to create a smoke alarm for the deaf, as you can see from this site, which includes a BBC report. Researchers conducted experiments by spraying canned wasabi extract into a room in which people with hearing impairments were sleeping. It woke 13 of the 14 test subjects up within two minutes—one of them in just 10 seconds.

Indeed, some think that wasabi has numerous health benefits as well. This website makes the case for its ingredients being effective in both preventing and treating cancer. They claim it is also an antioxidant, an antibiotic, an anticoagulant, and an anti-inflammatory agent. Even more, it is said to promote bone calcification.

There’s only one problem: They don’t tell us how much of it we have to eat to reap those benefits, and how much havoc it will wreak on our mucous membranes until that amount is consumed!