Does that "target" actually exist?

Squishy? Fluffy?

Miyazaki udon is soft. Even when trying to lift the noodles from the rich, salty broth made with strong dried sardines, they just plop, plop, plop. They're so soft and floppy that they practically disappear when cut. We slurped away, enjoying a bowl that would likely make Sanuki locals—who firmly believe firmness is the soul of udon—roll their eyes. After filling our bellies with such a lunch, we headed to the "Miyazaki Food Business Academy," hosted by Miyazaki Prefecture and the Miyazaki Nichinichi Shimbun. There, I was tasked with leading a super-long seminar series—four sessions, each lasting at least four hours—titled "How Do We Create Exciting Products?" The first session was held on a certain day in May.

Participants

The central theme was "Concept." It's the perspective that helps you think, "Oh, that's an option!" when things aren't working out by just extending what you've done before. We had quite lively discussions with the twenty-plus participants who gathered—food business owners, agricultural professionals, prefectural officials, and others.

One thing struck me here. Everyone was very calm and objective when considering examples unrelated to themselves—like successful cases in the wider world or projects I'd been involved in. But the moment it became "about themselves," their perspective suddenly became unbalanced.

I hesitate to share Miyazaki's case verbatim, so I'll use an example: A business owner making "sake cakes packed with premium local sake" stated their target was "men who dislike sweet things." I somewhat understand the impulse to say that. But it's full of holes: "People who dislike sweet things probably don't eat cake in the first place, right?" "At least I'm a big drinker, but I'd want to drink sake as sake..."

It's precisely because they're genuinely trying hard that they can't stay objective about their own business. It's that assumption: "I'm putting my heart into this product, so someone must buy it." But as long as they're only focused on their own "product," they can't break out of this mindset.

So, in times like these, I recommend taking a deep breath and slowly thinking about "the customer (your target)." "Does such a customer actually exist?" "Could they be a fictional character I've conveniently created?"

If even one real person who might actually buy it exists, that's great. There are likely others with similar preferences. Trying to see things from someone else's perspective like this helps restore objectivity.

Conveniently setting up a "non-existent target" is actually quite common in companies afflicted with corporate bureaucracy. Teams. Bosses. Bosses' bosses. Bosses' bosses' bosses. To reach consensus with so many people, they end up relying on data that's detached from reality. Since many local businesses have the advantage of being able to make decisions simply, I hope they can do honest marketing without imitating big corporate (bureaucracy).

Snacks from the popular restaurant "Hachisanichi"

Sato Shochu's Premium Selection

After the seminar, we held a social gathering at "Farmhouse Kitchen Hachisanichi," a restaurant featuring delicious local vegetables produced by one of the participants, Mr. Takehara. We heard about Miyazaki's natural beauty, the charm of its people, their challenges, and their concerns. Mr. Yamaguchi from Sato Shochu, founded in 1905, kindly provided the premium sake "Ten no Kokuin" as a gift. It was crisp and mellow. Cup after cup, the conversation flowed endlessly as the night deepened.

This group will meet three more times, and another group will start this fall. It looks like we'll be thoroughly enjoying Miyazaki's gourmet offerings this year.

For a hangover morning, "Reijiru"

Now then. Next time, I plan to tackle "Wagyu Studies"—knowledge useful even at yakiniku restaurants—shared by Mr. Kojima from the long-established Wagyu beef wholesaler.

Enjoy!