Revolutionizing Wagyu (Part 1) ~Cute is Delicious.~

To generate the concepts and ideas that drive innovation, it's essential to absorb as much "knowledge" as possible on a daily basis. This requires not just "correct information," but also the broadest possible range of "rich life experiences."

Reading books, watching movies, and traveling are certainly effective, but for a lazy guy like me, an indispensable source is the stories I hear over drinks from friends working in worlds far removed from the advertising industry. Without judging whether each piece of information is correct or not (in philosophy, this suspension of judgment is called "epoché"), I take it in with a "Hmm, I see, so that's another perspective" attitude. After all, there's hardly any information in this world that leaves no room for doubt. So, for now, I just take it all in, the good and the bad.

Today, I'd like to share an episode I heard from one such friend: Yasunari Kojima, Vice President of the long-established Wagyu beef wholesaler Kojima Shoten, who also runs the butcher shop "Kataba San" at Ginza Mitsukoshi. I hope you'll all practice "epoché" and use this as material for tomorrow's concepts (ideas).

 

Mr. Yasunari Kojima, Vice President, Kojima Shoten

The other day, I met a producer named Mr. Morimoto in Matsusaka and saw his cattle—I was amazed. At Mr. Morimoto's place, when people enter the barn, the cows come right up to them, friendly and approachable. I've visited countless livestock farms, but I've never seen anything like it. Mr. Morimoto calls them "Cows, cows," truly treating them like family. That's probably why.

Remember Mr. Orihara in Obanazawa, Yamagata Prefecture, we visited together before? His grandson in his twenties told us his grandfather drilled into him, "Can you sleep in there?" while teaching him to clean the barn spotless. This is like the ultimate form of that. Truly family. They literally raise each cow with tender loving care. Mr. Morimoto's story's even in a book, but wow, I was amazed.

Living with the cattle, raising them, and selling them—that entire cycle itself is a "culture," I think. Right now, this kind of authentic culture is disappearing all over Japan. Of course, raising Wagyu cattle on a large scale is still livestock farming, but the meat quality is just incomparable. You want to eat it, right? (laughs) Yeah, you do.

I'm just a "Wagyu wholesaler" who distributes the meat, so if producers don't raise good Wagyu, I can't do anything. I think it's the responsibility of consumer areas like Tokyo to support excellent producers. And we wholesalers, distributors, have the responsibility to connect those two sides.

Even if someone like Mr. Morimoto puts in several times the effort of an ordinary producer and actually raises Wagyu with superb meat quality, if the consumption areas don't show interest, they can't keep their business going. Conversely, if consumption areas demand "greasy, cheap Wagyu," producers will only make that kind. Tokyo's responsibility is huge. Really.

What makes Matsusaka beef exceptional isn't just its meat quality, but the fact that within Matsusaka, the consumer side supports producers like Mr. Morimoto. You know the long-established sukiyaki restaurant "Gyūgin," right? They highly value Mr. Morimoto's cattle-raising methods in the market and are actively working to sustain the economy.

Meanwhile, in Tokyo, the reality is that people often don't even grasp the difference between "Matsusaka Beef" and "Specialty Matsusaka Beef." They're treated as separate products in the market because the standards differ—like calf pedigree or fattening period. Even customers in Ginza struggle to understand. This is our responsibility as the distribution link between producers and consumers. We have to fix it, but it's tough, right?
Mr. Yamada, you're a communications pro, right? You gotta figure something out (laugh).

 

The interesting thing about coming up with concepts (ideas) is that even seemingly unrelated topics like this can definitely be useful. Now, Mr. Kojima's tongue is loosening up with each cup. I think I'll come back next time to hear the rest of the story.

Please, help yourself!