Workin' the Takoyaki Factory

YO QUIERO TAKO(YAKI) BELL: While mindlessly surfing for Japanese shows through Keyhole TV recently, I ran across a certain celebrity who looked absolutely thrilled after receiving a "takoyaki koujou."

"Did that guy just say he got a takoyaki factory?" I thought. "Either I'm hearing things or my horrible Japanese has gotten horribly more horrible."

Now, as someone who just loves the sauce-covered, batter-based, octopus-filled delicacy from Japan's Kansai region, "takoyaki" is one of those keywords that automatically makes me pay attention. It's like my purse-obsessed female relatives hearing the words "Coach" and "sale" at the same time. You'd think the mall just fired a mini-tractor beam right smack on their face. (Must ... get ... to ... the ... mall ... now.)

Anywho, I was highly doubtful that some guy just received a whole takoyaki factory as a gift. But he just looked so gosh-darned happy that it kind of did look like he got some huge takoyaki processing operation. (And yes, I refuse to call takoyaki "octopus balls" out of principle. That would be the principle that no item I like to nibble on should have the word "balls" in it. The singular form of the word, however, is just fine—i.e. rice ball, gum ball, you get my drift. I know, I know, I'm an idiot.)

Anywho (again) just as my seething envy for this guy was about to reach a thoroughly unhealthy peak, the true scope of this whole takoyaki factory ordeal was revealed. Turns out "Takoyaki Factory" was the name of an automatic takoyaki maker that the guy received as the gift. I no longer was envious. I was certifiably, 100 percent jealous! After all, I'm the same guy who owns a gajillion kitchen gadgets. It doesn't help that this automatic takoyaki maker makes my traditional cast iron takoyaki pan now look quaint and cumbersome.

Now I know what you're thinking. You're probably wondering: "Um, you actually have a takoyaki pan?"

Number two: "What is the big deal about this automatic takoyaki maker anyway?"

Well, the big deal is that this machine not only cooks your takoyaki, it even turns and flips it for you! For any takoyaki wannabe who's ever struggled flipping takoyaki, um, spheres before, this is a flippin' big deal.

"But wait, Mr. Shingenmochi," you say. "Why not just turn the takoyaki yourself and use the pan you already have?"

Great point. Except for the simple fact that my old pan just doesn't look this cool. Did I already mention by the way that I'm a certifiable idiot?

Now, as any reasonable person with a modicum of self-control, my immediate reaction was to feverishly search the Internet for a place that sold the darned thing. I had to have a "Takoyaki Factory Ton Ton" at all costs!

Orrrr maybe not. About the only place I could find that would deliver to the U.S. was charging about $169 plus $80-something for shipping. That's a steep price to pay for a machine that only makes octopus, um, circular thingamajigies. About the cheapest price I could find was at Amazon Japan, which sold it for less than $100. Unfortunately, they don't deliver to the U.S. Which means my automatic takoyaki making days will simply have to wait. At least it gives me one more thing to look forward to buying the next time I visit Japan. And yes, I'm that easily amused.
by SHINGENMOCHI

P.S. Here's video of the machine in action. Apparently, if you want perfectly shaped balls (lord, that sounds weird) like the ones pictured above, you need to wait until the batter has firmed up enough before triggering the machine to flip. Otherwise, it just defeats the machine's purpose.

Shingenmochi: What's In a Name?

When I first started blogging about weird tech news under a pseudonym for my local paper, the most frequent question I had from coworkers amused by the irreverent blog's posts was: "Hey, are you 'shingenmochi'?" (Apparently, my goofy writing style is like a fingerprint.)

The second most popular question? "What the the heck is a 'shingenmochi'?"

For the uninitiated, "shingen-mochi" is a type of Japanese "mochi" or rice cake (for the lack of better word) that harkens from the Yamanashi region. It also happens to be my favorite type of Japanese mochi.

I first ran across this delectable delicacy after my then-girlfriend brought one back from her hometown as an omiyage or present. Named after Yamanashi's famed warlord, Shingen Takeda, shingen-mochi is a perfect example of delicious simplicity. The classic I'm acquainted with is based on just three elements: a basic mochi, kinako (a light brown soybean powder), and kuromitsu (a gooey, sweet syrup made from Japanese brown sugar). With these three elements combined, the result is a delectable delight that's a hundred times more awesome than Captain Planet (Get it? Elements? Combined? Captain Planet? Um, never mind.)

Ever since my fateful introduction to this delightful concoction, every trip to Japan wasn't complete for me unless I got one of the beautifully wrapped boxes of shingen-mochi made by Kikyou-ya, and I mean beautifully wrapped. The packaging is so artistic that I always feel guilty unwrapping the stuff. I'll stare, stare and stare at it some more until the desire to snack on the mochi overpowers my guilt and I just open up the darned thing.

Eating Kikyou-ya's shingen-mochi also requires a labor of love. You have to get out one of the tiny packets of kuromitsu, pour it on the tiny container that contains the mochi and kinako, then mix and mix and mix until all three things come into perfect unison.

(See that picture up there with the nice big bowl? Well, it doesn't come like that. It comes in tiny little containers, so you've got to be careful mixing or risk ending up with an overflowing mess).

Granted this can be annoying if you're really hungry and impatient since it's like mixing water and oil. But you get an even bigger sense of satisfaction from the fruits of your labor once you start chewing on the tender mochi morsel wrapped in that oh-so gooey kinako-kuromitsu symphony. It's the exact opposite of the instant gratification promoted by fastfood. You can even say there's a zen like quality to it. And that's why I decided on the pseudonym "shingenmochi." Now if only it was easy to find the thing stateside... T__T

A Fisherman All the Fish Can Love

This is a column I originally wrote for the Reno Gazette-Journal

GO FISH: Early one morning, my sister awoke to several nudges from my 3-year-old niece, who had a sudden urge to talk about one of the more memorable moments of her young life.

“What is it?” asked my bleary-eyed sister.

“Hey Mom, remember when we went fishing with Uncle Jason?” my niece asked. “He caught a vegetable.”

Quickly, my sister switched from sleepy zombie to hysterical banshee, simply because she’s evil.

“What’s so funny, Mom?” my No. 1 fan asked.

Somewhere out there, a school of groupers is probably chuckling at me, too.

For those of you who failed to witness my latest foray to cement my status as one of Northern Nevada’s greatest manly men, I recently took my visiting niece to a free fishing day at Rancho San Rafael. This was the first time I took part in this neat event, and only the fourth time I’ve fished in my life.

I’ve never been good at fishing. If I kept score based on the number of lines I’ve cast and bait I’ve lost, I’m guessing it’s Fish Community, 74, Dishonor to Hidalgo Males, 0, right about now. Trout, catfish, tilapia nilotica — there isn’t a single scaly denizen within phylum chordata from Southeast Asia to North America that hasn’t heard of “that Filipino guy who can’t catch squat.”

Which means the fish likely started holding an underwater luau upon my grand arrival at Rancho San Rafael. Given how a decade has passed since I filmed my last fishing comedy hit, “How to Catch a Rotting Old Shoe and Other Fishy Tales from the Silver State,” I needed a quick refresher course on fishing pole operation. A friendly parks and rec guy quickly gave me the 411 while my niece signed up for her free fishing packet.

Now, if someone like yours truly is ever going to catch anything, what better place than a generously stocked pond that’s rigged to allow little kids to reel fish in, right? It’s like running as a well-connected candidate in Florida.

I held my pole back, clicked the safety or whatever that thing is called, thrust forward and proudly surveyed ahead like Washington on the Delaware. Nine seconds later, I noticed my bait lying lifelessly on the dirt behind me. Doh!

With my line now hopelessly tangled, I literally cut my losses and re-outfitted the pole, remembering not to let go of that freaking switch before I cast forward. Soon, I was launching my line two to three times farther than the little whippersnappers around me. Take that, you little runts.

Given my past fishing history and the fact that we arrived late, my expectations were still much lower than a bottom-feeding flounder. Then it happened: My line sank, I felt a tug and my heart skipped as I reeled in my first … whopping tangle of weed. Based on my niece’s reaction, you’d think I just reeled in Moby Dick.

“You did it, Uncle Jason!” shrieked my niece, which I’m sure just killed the audience and fishies around us.

Two crossed lines and three dramatic seaweed reels later, a 10-year-old boy on my left reeled in a live, wiggling fish — I can’t tell a trout from a cuttlefish, so don’t ask me. My niece was delirious with joy. After three more weed reels for yours truly, another boy on my right reeled in a fish. I seriously started to consider dynamite fishing.

“I haven’t caught anything all day, and people are catching fish left and right,” an exasperated man told a friend. “I can’t believe it!”

Welcome to my world, sir.

Still, given how happy my niece was, maybe vegetable fishing isn’t so bad after all.

The Strong Grip of Anime Tentacles

THE WIGGLES: Tentacles hold a special place in Japanese culture. More specifically, tentacles hold a special place in Japanese nerd/anime culture. I say this in my expert capacity as the ex-roommate of two certifiably nerdy Japanese guys with an extensive video collection.

Back in my college days, my two apartment buddies would invite me to video game sessions to relieve stress. Regardless of whose room we ended up in, I'd always spy a nice stash of VHS tapes in the corner, many of which sport an interesting assortment of tentacles wrapped in various, um, interesting positions on the cover. Strangely enough, although I had the privilege of watching countless Gundam and Slayers videos with this delightful, manzai-like duo, I never had the pleasure (or would that be displeasure?) of watching their special tentaclefest collections with them. Like U.S. Air Force Blackbird missions, watching tentacle movies is apparently best done solo.

Some days, I'd be studying in the living room and I'd see one of them knock on the other guy's door.

"This one's a good one," one of them would proudly say in Japanese as he hands one of his tentacle videos to the other.

"I am very much in your debt," the other would mockingly respond in formal Japanese.

They would then retreat back to their rooms, the soft click of their doors officially signaling the end of their strange Japanese underworld deal. I then make a mental note to not shake the tentacles, er, hands of the video recipient within the next 24 hours, all the while taking it upon myself to be in charge of making dinner that evening.

Having since parted ways with my dear Japanese roomies for six years now, I have been out of the loop as far as the Japanese otaku-tacle market for quite some time. Since then, the only visual confirmation I've had of tentacles has been limited to the occasional serving of tako at a sushi restaurant.

A recent run-in with this funny post at video game site Kotaku about tentacle cosplay, however, rekindled my memories of my former Japanese roomies and their hilarious hallway exchanges all those years ago. I wonder what kinds of deals those two are up to now? Regardless, I don't think I'll be shaking their hands anytime soon.

Go, Go, Rescue Rangers!

RESCUE ME: Ranger show lovers, meet your latest rescue-rrific superheroes!


Oops, sorry. Those were actually some overly eager suits from Takara Tomy during the big Ranger announcement at the Toy Forum 2008 toy extravaganza in Tokyo. (I don't know about you but it looks to me like the only saving these guys can do involves Microsoft Word and Excel documents. But I give them bonus points for their enthusiasm!)

Actually, here are your new superheroes.


They're certainly an improvement over the Tokusai Oyaji 4 above. Plus it looks like they've got Final Fantasy's Tidus on their team (2nd from the right) so you just know that this lot will kick some serious arse above and underwater. On a side note, that second lady from the left is a freaking dead ringer for a Japanese friend of mine from college. I am now looking forward to forwarding this pic to said friend and congratulating her on her new acting career. I'm gonna be so dead...

Anywho, the latest Ranger group will apparently be called the Tomika Heroes Rescue Force. Their job? To rescue those in need, which I assume includes kids, adults, seniors and company execs that pull a muscle while doing a group low-five. According to an article in Dengeki Online, the focus on rescue work sets it apart from traditional Tokusai (i.e. SFX) hero shows, which have typically revolved around beating up the bad guy du jour.

These new heroes are also apparently quite the worldly bunch as their mission entails responding to calamities and emergencies not just in Japan but worldwide. The show also promises to feature "high-quality CG graphics." As someone who last watched Japanese ranger shows in like, the '80s, I don't know what high quality special effects exactly entails for these programs these days but seeing that group low-five from those Takara Tomy execs certainly puts my mind at ease. Now for an image of your Orange Fanta Rangers, er, Rescue Heroes. At the very least, they shouldn't get hit by a car if they're jogging out at night. I'm feeling safe already.


Photos from Dengeki Online

So I Found Myself Abducted By Aliens...

PAGING SHINGENMOCHI: Well, it's certainly been a while. Who would've thunk that alien abductions were for real? I mean, all I wanted to do was try something wild and spontaneous like — oh, I don't know — cow tipping. Lesson learned, that's for sure.

OK, so I really didn't get kidnapped by aliens. Big surprise, I know. It just so happens that right after I decided to launch this blog, I also started a tech, science and video gaming blog called Power On at work. And as someone who takes great pride in his endeavors, I devoted a lot of personal time on Power On to make sure it justified its own existence. That and to make sure that it didn't get spanked too much by my paper's uber-popular dog blog. People love, love, love, LOVE their dogs. Seriously. About the only thing that could've competed was a cat blog — but cats were also covered in the dog blog. And lions. And tigers. And parrots. And Bigfoot. In fact, an entry on Bigfoot was singlehandedly responsible for causing a 1,000-plus hit lead I had one day to quickly evaporate. Dog/animal/monster blogs mean business, people!

The good news is that my hard work paid off and my little work blog managed to become our paper's No. 1 blog since it launched last year. The bad news is that it damn near killed all my other extra-curricular activities including this blog. Looking at my poor little tabiasobi blog, I've only gotten two comments that look like spam in a foreign language. I love the Internet!

But no more dallying around, I say. I've decided to re-dedicate myself to the cause of my first blog ever. Hopefully, that means that instead of waiting five long months between updates, my non-existent readers will now only have to wait four months instead. I guess I may be taking the "asobi" part of tabiasobi a tad too literally...

More Special DS Love for Japan

JAPAN GAMING SCENE: Japan loves their Nintendo DS's.

During my last visit their this spring, every games and electronics store I went to was sold out of the little Nintendo device that some people jokingly say "prints money." With Japan lapping up DSes as fast as Nintendo can churn them up, Nintendo is showing its home market much love with a new DS that's so shockingly bright, I wouldn't be surprised if it could power solar devices just from its sheen.

Japanese gaming magazine Famitsu reports that Ninty is releasing a new "Pikachu Edition" of its popular handheld that channels the bright yellow colors of its popular electric rat, er, mouse. The new color commemorates the move of its Pokemon Center Tokyo store from its Nihonbashi site to the new Hamamatsucho site on July 20. That's right, while the US still wallows in its piddling assortment of DS colors, Japan is getting yet another special color, this one just to commemorate a store move.

It looks like members of Japan's "Pokemon Daisuki Club" (or I Really Love Pokemon Club) also have a chance to win a free one in a raffle. I don't know if I'd be caught dead with a Pikachu DS but I have a feeling a lot of Japanese won't have that same problem.

All Poked Out

OH NO WE’RE SUCKED AGAIN!
Hi, my name is Shingenmochi and I’m a recovering Pokeholic.

Several years ago when gas prices didn’t require selling your first-born child, my elementary-school age cousins thought it would be neat to challenge their cool gaming cousin (I know this may be hard to believe, but that would be me) to Pokemon battles. I laughed and told them playing Pokemon at my age would make me their uncool cousin.

Then one of them made a smart-alec comment about beating me in the game so — being the mature adult in the group — I bought the latest Pokemon game and dedicated the next month to crushing their little, pre-pubescent Pokemon dreams. I read up on EV training online and proceeded to burn, spike, poison, paralyze and crush their poor, overmatched Pokemon and … wait, wait, wait for it … BUWAHAHA!!! I may not be the best, second best or even 1 millionth best Pokemon player in the world but I should at least beat a couple of gradeschoolers.

Then I realized that grown women likely don’t want to date grown men playing Pokemon so I quit cold turkey. Undefeated and with my point already made to my shell-shocked cousins, I bade farewell to my Blaziken — “Crispy” — and other beloved monsters, swearing to never touch Pokemon again.

Fast forward to the present and we now have Nintendo’s newest Pokemon offerings, Diamond and Pearl. Even with new features such as online battling and trading, I was still safely on the wagon. Then one of the little punks said he could beat me now, just cause he’s older. I bought two games — one for me and one for my kissing cousins, just so I can crush them again BUWAHAHA!!! I think I might need an intervention in a few weeks.

For the complete Pokemon rundown, check this review.

The Phenomenon of the Relaxing Bear

MEANWHILE, BACK IN REALITY: “Ooh, he’s so cute!” gushed two Japanese girls who stood right next to me. For the first time in my life, I finally felt what it must be like to be Brad Pitt or David Beckham. And it felt good.

Then I turned around.

Turns out they were fawning over a variety of products featuring mascot “Rilakkuma,” whose name is based on a Japanese play on words that translates to “Relaxing Bear”. I feel like a kid who just dropped my ice cream and lost my balloon at the same time.

So maybe, just maybe, my mother was lying during all those times she said I was cute. Like a man who got jilted by a pretty girl at a party for a more popular guy, I resented Rilakkuma. Just look at him with his cute face. And his cute mouth. And his cute ears. And his cute little tail.

Oh, who am I kidding, I can’t possibly hate Rilakkuma. How can you hate something that’s just so gawsh-darned cute? It doesn’t hurt that Rilakkuma is such an easygoing fellow. Most of his renditions have him lying down, usually next to a cute chick. That sounds like every guy’s dream right there. Forget Brad Pitt and David Beckham, I wanna be Rilakkuma.

Featured above is but one of the gajillion Rilakkuma merchandise from one of my favorite stores in Tokyo, Yamashiroya by Ueno Station. Recently, Rilakkuma T-shirts have also become available in Japan, much to the delight of many Japanese girls who may or may not think I’m cute. Given the popularity of Japanese-style shirts like Tokidoki among young American women, you might want to hunt a Rilakkuma T-shirt down as a present — especially since I’m hearing complaints from my sister’s friends that Tokidoki’s everywhere now (Heaven forbid a fashion-forward woman shows up in the same shirt as everyone else).

The problem, of course, is finding a Rilakkuma shirt. I was in Japan last April and it was hard to find even there. All I can say is, my sister better be grateful. She can repay me by asking her friends to giggle and tell me I’m cute.

Searching for Oscar the Grouch

TIME FOR SOME TRASH TALKING: If Oscar the Grouch ever decides to get a Muppet passport and fly to Japan, I have a feeling he might feel just a tad out of place. That's because for a country so impeccably clean, Japan has nary a trash can in sight.

Indeed, most of my walking jaunts in Tokyo typically end with my pockets filled with gum wrappers, pieces of paper, used up train cards and whatever junk happens to pile up in my possession during the day. Let's just say Oscar would be a lot grouchier in Nippon if he forgets to include his trash can in his check-in luggage.

This is just one of the many reasons why I love Japanese convenience stores — which I plan to wax poetic about in a future column. Like three wise kings open 24 hours a day, 7-Eleven, ampm and Lawson always bear me gifts in the form of receptacles for my PET bottles, aluminum cans and pieces of paper. My guess is Oscar would dive straight into the trash bin for burnables.

Then again, when you have about half of the U.S. population squeezed into an area slightly smaller than California, you'd probably be conscientious about your trash dumping habits, too. One of the great things about Japan's sparsity of places to dump your junk is that it made me realize just how much garbage I produce — and I'm quite tame compared to some people I know. I haven't thought much about the environmental impact of garbage since, well, I was at that age when I used to watch Oscar the Grouch on Sesame Street. And as someone who studied for three years in Manila, I know full well the consequences of not being obsessive-compulsive with your trash management.

So maybe it's not such a bad idea to wean Oscar the Grouch off his trash habit and make him a more responsible member of society. To wean him off his trash dependence, I suggest doing what I did the first time I visited Tokyo: invest in a good pair of cargo pants.

So this is what they call "blogging"

DUM-DEE-DUM-DUM: Sometime last year, I came across a startling revelation. Apparently, I was the last human being on Earth without a blog.

"Yeah, I was just talking about that in my blog," I often heard.

Friends, family members, my brother's cat, that guy asking me for money while I walked down the street — everyone seemed to have a blog except me. Maybe it's because I viewed the vast majority of blogs the same way that the "book editor" in my paper viewed the self-published works that were magnificently deposited by her desk from time to time. Let's just say she'd be a good model for Edvard Munch.

Then again, that was the old, elitist MainStreamMedia cog in me. I used to wonder who could be possibly interested in listening to the random ramblings of a nobody like yours truly. But after seeing many of my print media colleagues get the axe, I'm hoping more than ever that there are kind benefactors out there in the Pacman Jones mold who like showering blogging nobodies with dollar bills.

Seriously, though, I'm just trying to find more productive ways to pass my time. If, by some miracle, you run across this blog, thank you for reading this far. Remember, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. I originally planned on making this site a receptacle for my musings on things related to Japan. But it's just so hard to limit such a worldly specimen as yours truly. OK, so I simply don't have a plan on what I really want to do. But for a blog with zero hits, does that really matter in the grand scheme of things?

For now, let's just celebrate the momentous occasion that is the last guy on Earth without a blog finally having his own little corner in the blogosphere.