19 September 2025
That means I’m gonna have to take another trip and it’s gonna cost me another few thousand dollars.
I write it all down in this book. Every fucking nickel that goes down right in this book.
Hey, oh, ah, what’s the matter with you? Since when do you talk like that?
Ma, I’m sorry, I’m all upset. You know what they’re doing to me. I can’t take this no more. Back and forth back and forth. A man has to be put to this!
Piscano and his mother. Casino (1995)
I’ve decided I’m not going back to Japan this fall. I can’t relax there. Always get roped into business. I don’t recognize myself anymore. I’ve become like a character in Glengarry Glen Ross. Always be closing. The last trip was fun. Last September. But too damn hot. And then JETRO called and I had to answer. I got in touch with my handler Ishikawa-san just to see what they were up to. He sent back an excited text and invited me to a trade show that started the day we were scheduled to leave. All expenses paid. Right this way.
I began drafting my response.
We’re leaving that night. Zannen.
“Any free time this visit?”
I have a free night Monday. Sorry. Best I can do this go round.
I sent the text knowing the meeting wasn’t going to happen. Should have planned better. Arranging a meeting with these guys is not exactly free jazz.
“No problem. The 7 pm Shinkansen from Tokyo, gets to Tsubame Sanjo at 8:47. See you at the gate.”
Shit. It’s happening. I said aloud on a crowded evening train.
Fast forward to that Friday, killing time at the Eataly in Tokyo Station. Because I spend most of my time in the States, I still factor in extra time to get anywhere. What if there’s road work, what if there’s Dodger traffic etc. Japan is always on time, you can play it tight.
Alright c’mon finish your negroni. Game time.
“Don’t rush me, bitch.”
C’mon, I want to get a nice bottle of sake for the train.
Jaimie held eye contact with me and took the tiniest sip.
I tried to pretend leave her there like I would do with Ruben, my friend’s dog. But she has her own credit card and phone and plus I need her to navigate. Damn.
The book store Kinokuniya now sells nice food and drinks. There’s one in the station. Remember that. I’ve graduated from drinking one cup sake. A nice Junmai for the ride. Half of Japan is making your train.
Ishikawa has business and pleasure dialed precisely. A veteran of these streets. He was at the gate laughing when we pulled up. Straight to a soba place by the station. Professional entertainment is alive and well in Japan. Late night ten zaru soba. A draft beer on their dime was very sweet.
Ishikawa and I got on from day one. He understood me as I see myself, a Japanese in exile, who doesn’t speak or read that well but otherwise knows what’s up. They started me off with a chauffeur and a babysitter last time before realizing I was cool. Now he just sends me a ticket and waits at the gate.
He dropped us off at the hotel and took care of check-in. There was a beer vending machine in the lobby. I have arrived, I thought to myself, pressing the button for a tall Premium Malts. Ka-ching. The New Otani wouldn’t have been this glamorous. He got me a double wide room presumably because of my sheer size. I don’t smoke but I would have loved a smoking room. The right aroma.
Little evening stroll. We walked around the Aeon Mall collecting the proper refreshments for the room. Big bottled water. Monaka jumbo. Plain yogurt and a banana for first breakfast. Crushed up McVities. Black boss no sugar. Watched sumo on the TV. Sleep of the dead.
The breakfast buffet at these business hotels will kill you. Microwaved eggs, toaster oven mackerel and the worst fruit salad in Christendom. You’ll do alright on natto and rice and a miso soup. The Ozu special. Eat up. Once you enter the Hi-Ace there’s no food until lunch.
I had been to Sakura Seika’s offices on my first Niigata trip in February. Their original HQ, a wood-paneled 80s time capsule, complete with those low leather sofas. How many billion dollar deals were conducted in this country on leather armchairs exactly 14 inches from the ground? Sakura seemed like a family business. For family businesses the president was young. Probably my age.
We shook hands and exchanged business cards. You lay them out on the desk and collect them at the end. A useful trick to remember everyone’s names. I got the double wide card holder from Muji. Two of them actually. The Tiffany ones from American Psycho couldn’t handle one meeting.
The pres, in his company jumpsuit, looking almost embarrassed, mentioned they were working on a brand new facility. This place is perfect, I thought to myself. Perfect.
My enthusiasm for this meeting wasn’t off the charts. Rice crackers are the kind of things they throw into glass bowls in bars where nobody washes their hands. I think about the oriental bar mix that haunted my childhood.
The senbei I was after were those little round things the size of communion wafers. Brushed with tamari, I’d top them with that Korean tartare and put it on the dinner menu. These were more like bite sized little snacks. Not my racket. But hear the man out.
Pitch incoming. His messaging was “ultra premium.” They were developing stuff for hotel bars, rooftop lounges. Sounded sexy for rice crackers. Try this tomato basil senbei. Mandarin Oriental are using it. Then I want you to try the camembert. A secretary passed around little paper cups of oolong cha. He was winning me over. They nailed that fine balance between tradition and innovation. The norimaki was classic. The squid flavor was novel but familiar. And the black pepper, was just excellent in a way that couldn’t be placed on a map. We were crushing the samples. Damn good.
His biggest flex was that Muji had asked them to manufacture their line of rice crackers.
“People asked me how we pulled that off. You don’t go to them. They come to you.”
It was then that I learned about the FDA. There are certain ingredients that are prohibited, making the product impossible to import. A non-synthetic colorant. Why that is, remained a mystery. An issue of bureaucracy not safety. They haven’t gotten around to approving it. Camembert was gold but it’s a no go. Compliance is its own game. Sakura were going for taste. Import laws are like taxes, so quixotic and ever changing, people make a living just to sort it out.
The president is a portly guy, which he emphasized was proof of his dedication. “I am a shokunin (craftsman)” he said, laughing and patting his stomach.
Simple, high quality ingredients. Nothing artificial. I could see it going over in Santa Fe. We’ll bring in a few cases see how it does…
Six months later and we were headed back. The senbei were a hit, making converts of many regulars. We sold through and needed to resupply.
That morning Ishikawa-san scooped us from the hotel and away we went. He is a local lad, whipping us around town in the rental Suzuki with the authority of the one guy in the office that doesn’t need GPS. We passed through the endless rice fields of Niigata-ken to a modern looking warehouse, the new home base. Buzzed in and headed up the stairs to their break room. Business casual. A large window revealed the rice fields, mid harvest, I suppose to remind the staff of where it all comes from. A hug from Terao the pres. Welcome back.
Dim the lights. Cue the presentation. I scanned the room, soaking in the new surroundings.
“We’re in the middle of production. Want to see?”
Bit of PPE first. Hairnet, face mask, complete jumpsuit. Shoes off slippers on. It felt like TSMC or CERN. Through the wind screen into the holy of holies. Room after room of rice crackers going through the conveyor belt from start to finish.
Lucie will tell you I am extremely meticulous about measurement to the point of being annoying. We produce that salad dressing in small batches to a very particular spec. I was walking around these new precision instruments nodding my head. Yes. That’s what I’m talking about. It really did feel like a semiconductor factory. Something top secret. Not snacks.
In spite of the new hardware, the senbei hadn’t lost that artisanal flavor. Ingredients were the same. One whisper from the boss before we left. R&D is paying off. New flavor this year. Uni.
Put me down for 30 cases, I said before shaking his hand.
You’d think that would be it. But the hero’s journey is impossibly long and arduous. The fun was just beginning.
Intermezzo.
A trade war erupted. 15 then 25 then 15. I can’t believe I waited this long. Serves me right. Ilene’s been begging me for months. My import bond also expired. Idiot. International freight shipping is for some reason extremely nerve racking. Anything to do with the sea hasn’t changed much since Moby Dick. Then there’s the paperwork with customs. A tight window to register every little detail. Mess up and they will “destroy” the cargo. Thousands of dollars at stake. Aristotle Onassis seemed to be a man of leisure… and yet this is round the clock chaos. Placed the order, wired the yen. Squid, black pepper, norimaki, uni. The ship left harbor just before the reciprocal tariffs hit. For once, a break.
Called Kyoko, the president of the shipping company, to talk turkey.
Tell me, Kyoko, how fucked are we?
“Let’s see…”
Endless silence.
“Actually I think you’re ok.”
The waiting game. As the days went by, I imagined the ship passing through all weather on the Pacific. Lonely and romantic.
Jaimie showed me a video from the port. Shipping containers slipping off a massive ship like dominoes into the harbor. These could be dialysis machines, rice crackers, dildos. People’s livelihoods, man. Again, Moby Dick.
An email from Long Beach. Cargo is safe and sound. Those shipping containers at the bottom of the harbor? NMFP.
To save a buck, we decided to bring her in ourselves from Albuquerque. The final leg, that beautiful stretch of I-25. Backing up the Forester to the ramp to confused looks from everyone. “Where’s your truck?” I am the truck.
Pulling onto Lena street with the Forester loaded with 132 cases of rice crackers, I was in that quantum state of small business, feeling like a genius and an idiot at the same time. Not just any old idiot, I’m talking about one of a select few. No one else could have been stupid enough to do this! Which is why it had to be done.
I am now on the mailing list of Naigai shipping, and if I’m ever feeling sorry for myself I read what Kyoko’s got going on this week and realize things are fine.
Almost ran over Roxana with my stack of boxes.
“Hey, Jeff love the newsletter.”
Cheers, Roxana. It’s a nice distraction.
Niigata senbei
Japanese rice crackers, choice of black pepper, uni, squid, nori, or a mix of all 4
temaki
choice of blue crab, maguro, kanpachi namerou, or ikura
sesame miso bagna fredda
local raw vegetables with an umami-rich anchovy dip
hiyashi salad
local lettuces, radish, cucumber, sesame ginger dressing
owan
rich fish stock miso soup
eggplant & sungold salad
cold Japanese eggplant & sungold tomato salad with ginger dressing & cilantro
white anchovy salad with shiso vinaigrette
marinated white anchovies over local greens with fresh shiso dressing
scallop ceviche
raw sea scallops, sudachi, ikura, aonori
kanpachi namerou
tartare of kanpachi with white miso, ginger, shiso, over rice
black cod saikyo yaki bento
roasted black cod marinated in miso, over Japanese rice with hiyashi salad and pickles
seared scallop bento
seared sea scallops over Japanese rice, hiyashi salad & pickles
maguro bento
raw bluefin tuna over sushi rice with hiyashi salad, pickles
chirashi
raw itoyori, saba, tuna, nodoguro, scallop, kinmedai, tai, ikura, uni over sushi rice*
basque cheesecake
yuzu coconut rice pudding
sesame miso cookie