Don’t Forget the Font! The Complexity of Written Japanese and the Shiba Ramen Logo

August 16, 2015 Jake

I have a confession to make: I don’t speak Japanese. I can’t read it or write it. I do understand lots of words and phrases (foods, cultural miscellany, petty vulgarities), but that’s pretty much it. Nevertheless, I live around Japanese, I hear it and see it every day in my house, and I’ve learned a lot about it over time. Critically, this level of knowledge is enough to make informed decisions about how, if at all, Japanese language should feature in Shiba Ramen’s brand image (especially because we have an in-house technical expert).

Earlier this year, I wrote extensively about our logo design strategy: suggesting Japanese authenticity while seeking American accessibility. We wanted to use Japanese text in the logo, but we knew we’d need to strike a delicate balance if we did.

I’m going to explain how (I think) we struck that balance, but first I need to explain a fact about Japanese language that is pretty surprising for westerners: Japanese uses three sets of written characters.

Shiba Ramen Logo, Cast-Iron Brand. We use a single Chinese character (kanji) saying only "shiba." The text font and the logo itself evoke a traditional Japanese hanko stamp (see below). Here with our Shiba Scream ice cream prototype (minus the ice cream).

Two Syllabaries: Hiragana and Katakana

English is written with a set of 26 Roman letters known as “the alphabet.” But alphabet is actually a technical term: it means a set of letters, usually arranged in a fixed order, each one of which represents a perceptually distinct sound. Japanese is a little different. It doesn't use an alphabet; instead it uses a syllabary. The characters in a syllabary each represent an entire syllable, instead of just a sound. For example, the syllable “ba” is made up of two distinct sounds, “b” and “a.”

Actually, Japanese uses two sets of parallel syllabaries, known as hiragana and katakana. Hiragana and katakana have just under 50 characters each, which represent the same set of sounds. The only obvious differences between the two are their visual appearances. The hiragana and katakana characters for the same sound typically look quite different, and the overall appearance of katakana is sharper and more angular.

Japanese Syllabaries.  http://szmoon.deviantart.com/art/Green-Tea-Hiragana-Chart-61880535 — **Japanese Syllabaries.** http://szmoon.deviantart.com/art/Green-Tea-Hiragana-Chart-61880535

At this point it's only understandable to ask why in the world the Japanese need two sets of characters representing the same sounds. The historical answer is that the two character sets evolved separately in medieval Japan, both as simplified versions of Chinese characters (kanji). Interestingly, katakana were typically used by men, who controlled the translation of Chinese literature and the writing of official documents. Hiragana, meanwhile, were considered women's script, and were used in unofficial communications like personal letters and literature. Apparently, Japanese women traditionally wrote Chinese characters in a cursive style, which is why hiragana has a decidedly more cursive appearance than katakana. Eventually, the gendered usage was abandoned, and the two scripts took on different functional uses.

And that's how things stand today. Hiragana is set that is used for Japanese words, especially those that can't be written with kanji. Katakana is the set used for foreign words and names, onomatopoetic words (lots of those in Japanese), and for emphasis (as we use bold or italics).

So why the need to signify foreign words with a separate character set? For one thing, the Japanese borrow a lot of words from other languages. But so does English, so what gives?

I'm Actually Wearing This Right Now.  Katakana in Action. グッド・タイムズ = "Guddo Taimuzu" = "Good Times" — **I'm Actually Wearing This Right Now. Katakana in Action. グッド・タイムズ = "Guddo Taimuzu" = "Good Times"**

Well, something funny happens when words from an alphabet-based language are written in a syllabary. Look at it this way. We can combine and manipulate our Roman letters to represent almost any sound, although we often have to memorize a word's pronunciation as a result. In a syllabary, the sound is manipulated, as well as the spelling. All of the syllabic characters in Japanese are either stand-alone vowels (a, e, i, o, u) or a vowel paired with a consonant (i.e., ha, ba, na, ka). There is only one stand-alone consonant (n). Everything must be spelled using this limited universe of sounds, each of which is always pronounced the same way.

Any foreign word must be modified so that it can be written and spoken in Japanese, unless, of course, that word is comprised only of syllables in the Japanese set. Use of katakana signals that a word is not Japanese; that it has been altered to fit into Japanese.

Here are a couple examples. It’s impossible to write my name (Jake Freed) in Japanese, because Japanese has no standalone “k” or “d” and no “fr” consonant blend. My name becomes “Jeiku Furido.” And some of my absolute favorites: Starbucks becomes “Sutaabakusu.” Alcatraz becomes “Arukatorazu.” McDonalds becomes Makudonarudo. Lots of extra vowels, no letters like “L” or “V.” Katakana would be used for all these words. By the way, the Japanese are also very proficient at abbreviating words. Sutaabakusu becomes Sutaba; Makudonarudo becomes Makku.

Katakana.  Makudonarudo Hanbaagaa = McDonald's Hamburgers — **Katakana.** Makudonarudo Hanbaagaa = McDonald's Hamburgers

One Logography: Kanji

If things aren't tough enough yet, it gets yet more complicated. In a single sentence, you might see hiragana and katakana. You will probably also see kanji. Kanji are logographic characters, which means that they are associated with meanings, not sounds. They were imported to Japan from China in late antiquity. Many characters are similar or even the same in Japanese and Chinese and, for that reason, a Japanese person who doesn’t speak Chinese can often understand the rough meaning of basic written Chinese, even if they have no idea how it sounds.

There are well over 5000 kanji, but most Japanese only know a fraction of these. Japanese kids are required to learn a government-mandated set of 2136 by the end of high school, and those are the ones that are typically used in newspapers and media publications. Some kanji are inordinately complex or obscure, and they can be hard to read, let alone write. But if you understand them, kanji are more efficient for reading: symbols can convey the same amount of information in less space than letters can.

Back to the Logo

For Shiba Ramen's logo, we wanted to use some Japanese language element. We considered using either hiragana or kanji. We initially looked at some designs that said “Shiba Ramen” in both English and hiragana. Although we liked the hiragana, the look with a single kanji (“shiba”) was just cleaner and more refined. Using two kanji would start looking Chinese. Incidentally, “ramen” is often written in katakana in Japanese because it's actually a foreign (Chinese) word.

Hanko Inspiration. Remembering the old Uniqlo soy sauce t-shirt in my closet (left) led us to our logo font. This shirt was done in the style of a hanko stamp (right).

Just like Roman letters, Japanese characters come in all sorts of fonts. The reality, though, is that many of the available fonts are meant to evoke calligraphic brushstrokes. Our view was that brushstrokes were too traditional for Shiba Ramen, so we spent some time looking for alternatives better suited to the image we want to project. After a few days of waffling, I recalled the kanji on the back of a soy sauce t-shirt Hiroko bought for me at Uniqlo in Japan over 10 years ago. I dug it out of the closet and showed it to Hiroko. This font used clean lines of uniform thickness and right angles.

Hiroko explained that this font is the kind used on a hanko stamp (the stamps all Japanese use to sign their names on official documents). A hanko-type font, we realized, would fit with our more modern image while still retaining something of the traditional Japanese. We played around with a few hanko-type fonts, picked one, and our logo was complete.

Space Design: Putting the Pieces in Place

August 3, 2015 Jake

I just flipped our shiba inu calendars to August. Aside 1: How is it August?? Aside 2: Yes, plural. Our love of the shiba is sufficiently well-known that we received two shiba calendars as gifts this year. There's more than one wall here at HQ, after all. But, to my point, it is now August. This is the month Shiba Ramen construction should begin! Our building permits have been issued, and we're seemingly days away from hiring a general contractor. Aside 3: I've said "days away!!" every week for the past month, but getting these contractor bids resolved is an almost unbearably slow process. But this time I really mean it. Maybe.

Shiba Ramen.  More or less.  We've had to cut the bar seating due to obscure regulatory requirements.  The storefront elevation diagram below shows the change.  This image does not reflect what the tile will actually look like. &… — **Shiba Ramen**. More or less. We've had to cut the bar seating due to obscure regulatory requirements. The storefront elevation diagram below shows the change. This image does not reflect what the tile will actually look like. For a more accurate view, see the image below.

The point, dear readers, is that we have something to build and we're ready to build it. We have a space design that we're really excited about, and that's just a part of the exceedingly complex architectural plans for the whole operation. Seeing how much goes into a sub-400 square foot restaurant space is eye-opening, to say the least.

Over the past few posts, I've explained our approach to space design, from the aesthetic we're trying to create to the many external forces that shaped our decision-making. This time, I'd like to show you where we ended up, and give you a preview of what Shiba Ramen will look like. With any luck, I'll be posting pictures of the real thing in a couple of months.

Storefront Elevation Diagram.  Everything to scale.  Here you can see that the bar seating has given way to a standing area. — **Storefront Elevation Diagram.** Everything to scale. Here you can see that the bar seating has given way to a standing area.

Decisions, Decisions

So here's how we struck a balance between our design goals and the competing constraints on design freedom. We chose to focus on four elements: color, tile, wood, and lighting. The first element--color--was an easy one. Shiba Ramen's signature color is a crimson red, so it is critical that that color is prominently featured in our first location. The storefront sign above our kiosk, a backlit strip of water-jet cut aluminum, seemed like the ideal (and most appropriate) place to deploy the Shiba red. But we wanted the red to play more of an accent role on an overall basis, rather than a dominant one. So we decided to feature it on the edges of our visible shelving and menu board strips. Our pendant lamps are orange-red, not an exact match with the Shiba red. What can you do.

To accompany the red motif, we decided to incorporate a blue in our tile. Although the hoshi tile comes in "clay" (sort of a brick color), which may well have worked with the red theme, we thought a cool blue would look great as a backdrop for the red. It provides a nice contrast, and because we love blue, we wanted to find a way to incorporate it into the design.

For the tile, the hardest part was finding a place to put it. Because we have to use the landlord's blackened steel panels under-counter, a different location was necessary. We solved this problem by incorporating a customer-facing drop ceiling behind the point of sale. The hoshi tile will be done as a blue-to-white gradient from the left side. We will use a small amount of gray tile to help intermediate the transition. The menu board will hang over the right side of the drop ceiling, directly behind the register.

Wood Elements.  Blade sign (left) and mock-up of menu board (right).  Prices not to scale. — **Wood Elements.** Blade sign (left) and mock-up of menu board (right). Prices not to scale.

We are using wood in a couple of ways. First, we'll use a set of engraved plywood strips for the menu board, with the edges painted Shiba red. We'll also use plywood for the blade sign, engraved with the Shiba Ramen logo. But the big wood element is the slatted pine soffit that hangs above the counter and extends down the wall alongside the point of sale. The soffit is comprised of a series of adjacent triangular segments, with the wood in each oriented perpendicular to that in the next. On top of that, the surface is three-dimensional, so that the triangles will undulate along the length of the space. Where the soffit runs down the wall, we will overlay a stenciled asanoha pattern to tie the tile motif into the wood element. Our view is that the angular and geometric nature of the wood soffit will tie in nicely with the similarly angular asanoha tile.

Soffit. This behind-the-counter view shows the three-dimensional nature of the pine soffit. — **Soffit.** This behind-the-counter view shows the three-dimensional nature of the pine soffit.

For the over-counter lighting, we are using a set of four pendant lamps. These so-called "chouchin" lamps are made by an Italian company, Foscarini. But they are inspired by Japanese design. Chouchin are traditional Japanese paper and bamboo lanterns. You've certainly seen them before. The Foscarini lamps are sleek blown glass renderings of this historic lighting element. In other words, it's the exact kind of thing we want to showcase at Shiba Ramen.

Lights! Foscarini's "Chouchin" collection at left.  We're using the smaller orange pendant.  Japanese chouchin lamps at right. — **Lights!** Foscarini's "Chouchin" collection at left. We're using the smaller orange pendant. Japanese chouchin lamps at right.

Note: all of the fantastic images above were produced by our design partner, Misa Grannis. We worked closely with her throughout the process of putting this together. She did the heavy lifting and put together a great design package that we were proud to stand behind. Hiroko and I contributed mostly be musing, opining, and trying not to be annoying.

On the Hunt for Tile, a Visit to Edo Japan: Japanese Geometries

July 22, 2015 Jake

We get excited by tile. Probably to an abnormal degree. Tile is capable of infinite variation in pattern and color. It can deliver a look of striking complexity or clean simplicity. If you're looking for a signature design element for your space, whether in your home or in a ramen restaurant, tile can provide it. Two years ago, after months of searching and planning, we installed a custom-colored cement tile floor with a traditional Mediterranean-style pattern in our sunroom. That fantastic experience made it a near-certainty that tile would be an integral element of Shiba Ramen's inaugural design scheme.

Cement Tile.  Toro sunbathes in the sunroom, on our "Bayahibe" tiles that we bought from Avente Tile. — **Cement Tile.** Toro sunbathes in the sunroom, on our "Bayahibe" tiles that we bought from Avente Tile.

Now the other thing we love: geometric design. I spent years being fascinated by the endless hexagons and pentagons, the lines, the symmetries, and the repetition found in chemistry. I loved the way molecules looked, and I took great pleasure in drawing them, designing them, and building them. It's no surprise, then, that geometric patterns have featured in our home renovations, especially through the repeating quatrefoils on our sunroom floor. If there's any material capable of delivering an awesome geometric look, it's tile.

Tile + Geometry + Japan

It didn't take long for our search for geometric tile lead us to early modern Japan. Japan in the Edo period (ca. 1600-1868) is a renowned epoch of artistic achievement, especially in the graphic arts. Ukiyo-e ("pictures of the floating world") prints remain captivating today, as evidenced by a fabulous exhibit at San Francisco's Asian Art Museum earlier this year (one that I attempted to enjoy until I had to throw down with a combative and excitable toddler halfway through the first gallery--it was Mother's Day, so Hiroko got to roll through relatively unmolested).

Traditional Japanse Patterns.  You've probably seen some of these before, especially the seigaiha pattern at lower left.  Images taken from Patterns and Layering: Japanese Spatial Culture, Nature and Architecture.  You … — **Traditional Japanse Patterns**. You've probably seen some of these before, especially the *seigaiha* pattern at lower left. Images taken from *Patterns and Layering: Japanese Spatial Culture, Nature and Architecture*. You can download a pdf of the first chapters **here**. I'm waiting for Amazon to get the whole book in stock so I can get a hard copy.

You don't have to look at much ukiyo-e to appreciate the sumptuous fashion on display in Edo Japan. Images of courtesans and samurai abound, the subjects often clad in layered garments, replete with varied colors and--to our point--geometric patterns. It turns out that this use of geometry has been deeply integrated in Japanese design for hundreds of years. And some of the very same traditional patterns used in the art, imagery, and fashion of feudal Japan are still in regular use today.

Traditional Look, Modern Look

But don't let the word "traditional" give you the wrong impression. The amazing thing about these Japanese patterns is just how modern they look, and how easily they fit into contemporary design. The reality is that once you become aware of these patterns, you start seeing them everywhere, not only in Japan, but even here in the U.S. OK, maybe not so much in my native Akron, Ohio (the home of LeBron James!), but certainly here in the Bay Area. Perhaps we shouldn't have been surprised when, just last week, we saw the Japanese pattern we're using at Shiba Ramen--asanoha--used in curtains in a CB2 catalogue, and in a piece of wall art in a West Elm catalogue.

Let's Buy Some Tile

Given the design constraints in our small space, we knew we had limited opportunity to deploy tile, so we had to make it count. But there was little question that we intended to find that opportunity in the first instance. After Misa put the Soli hoshi tile on our Pinterest board, we didn't have a hard time making up our minds to use it at Shiba Ramen. It conveys the modern Japanese look we're going for; it references a Japanese design tradition without seeming traditional. It can work in a modern food hall in Emeryville, CA. And, to come back to where we started, it is an incredibly cool geometric pattern.

Asanoha Tile.  This is what we're using above the counter at Shiba Ramen.  A mosaic of "hoshi" tile from L.A.-based tile vendor Soli.  This image from the web is what caught our attention.  We're doing a fade from sky blue to whi… — **Asanoha Tile**. This is what we're using above the counter at Shiba Ramen. A mosaic of "hoshi" tile from L.A.-based tile vendor Soli. This image from the web is what caught our attention. We're doing a fade from sky blue to white, with gray intermediating the transition.

The tile also has the capacity to deliver a bit of much needed color to our space. As you'll see next time, our color palette is pretty neutral, and there is little opportunity to deviate. The metal "Shiba Ramen" sign above our kiosk will be the crimson of our logo and we'll use red-orange hanging pendants over the counter. But we wanted to offset the red with a cool blue, and that's something that the hoshi tile (in sky blue) will do for us.

As of today, the hoshi tile has been in our basement for over two months, awaiting the big day of installation early this fall. We were worried that Soli would run out of stock and we'd be unable to get the colors we wanted. This stuff is not cheap (around $28/sf), and that's fine because we're using such a small amount, but if we'd wanted to custom order the tile, the minimum order was 300 sf. Obviously, custom ordering the tile was a non-starter, so we acted fast and made a final final decision months in advance of building. This tile is not returnable.

Space Design: Getting Our Act Together

July 13, 2015 Jake

Here's the part of the Shiba Ramen project we'd been waiting for: trying to design a great-looking space that projects the look and feel we want to establish for our business. This is our prototype location. It's our first experiment in using space design to help shape Shiba Ramen's image. We get a chance to have fun with building materials, colors, and design motifs and we're forced to think about how image flows from those elements both individually and used in combination. Even if I didn't love this stuff (I do), it would still be a lot more enjoyable (read: less ulcer-inducing) than getting permits, finding contractors, and funding construction!

Shiba Ramen Signage Diagram.  Let's design a restaurant to go with it. — **Shiba Ramen Signage Diagram.** Let's design a restaurant to go with it.

But to say we can be creative is not to say that we are unconstrained: in fact, we have very few degrees of design freedom compared to your average free-standing restaurant. We don’t have a dining room or a true exterior, and most of our sub-400 square foot space is dedicated to the food prep essentials. On top of this, the finishes for the façade of our kiosk are mandated by Public Market as part of their holistic design scheme for the food hall. Like I said, this is a prototype and it's a good starter project (not to mention a lot cheaper than building out a full space). But we want to design bigger spaces down the line, so we're looking at this as a training exercise of sorts.

Even with our constraints, I think we're making the most of our limited design opportunity now that we have a final design on paper. So long as the regulators don't muck it up with tight-fisted and meddlesome nitpicking over code technicalities, that is (more on regulators later, once that story is fully and finally resolved).

Public Market Finishes.  The Public Market mandates these finishes in our area of the food hall.  Other areas employ a similar neutral color palette, but materials include reclaimed wood and glass tile.  We will use a dual-height bar,… — **Public Market Finishes.** The Public Market mandates these finishes in our area of the food hall. Other areas employ a similar neutral color palette, but materials include reclaimed wood and glass tile. We will use a dual-height bar, but without any seating. Thanks, regulators!

Not Nearly Do-It-Yourself

Now when it came to designing improvements to our house, we selected the materials and put something on paper ourselves. But even though our Shiba Ramen space is small, it was not an option to go solo on this project. The landlords required us to submit a detailed package of technical space design drawings (“SDDs”), and we needed a trained professional to put those together. We also wanted somebody with great design sense to partner with us and ultimately take ownership over the process.

Wood and Geometry.  These wooden structural elements and geometric patterns influenced our thinking, as you'll see in the next post. — **Wood and Geometry.** These wooden structural elements and geometric patterns influenced our thinking, as you'll see in the next post.

Beyond this project just being way, way more technical than even sophisticated DYI projects, we don't have the luxury to spend time going painstakingly through the weeds on this. By day I have to think about the billable hour (gross), and there still has to be time to experiment with ramen, taste beers, run down the ever-expanding list of startup tasks. And did I mention there's a small child running amok over here at Shiba Ramen HQ? We have to water our tomatoes, play Candy Land, eat. Life. That sort of thing. We obviously needed help.

We brought on ramen-loving Japan enthusiast and fellow Oaklander Misa Grannis to work with us. Misa had done a fantastic job on our logo last fall, and we thought the space design was a great opportunity to get her more involved with our project. After working with her on the logo, we understood her that aesthetic sense was totally aligned with ours. Modern design, Japanese influences. We also trusted that she'd do a great job as a design professional, so she was definitely the partner we wanted on this project with us.

Gathering and Sorting

We have precious few opportunities in this small space to realize our design goals, so it's critical that we select the right materials and structural elements. And it's just as critical that we don't overreach and try to do to much. So we spent several months just thinking about our options. Our approach, at Misa's suggestion, was to use a shared board on Pinterest. This allowed any of the three of us to pin images of restaurant designs, lamps, tiles, design motifs, etc., that we we found on the web. And we could have an informal dialogue by leaving comments for one another on the pins. This was actually a really useful way of aggregating ideas, filtering them, and coming to a consensus on our design direction.

Pendant Light Runners-Up.  Here are some lamps that we seriously considered, but in the end decided against.  Click for links to the products: left, middle, right.  Allmodern.com and ylighting.com are great places to shop for coo… — **Pendant Light Runners-Up.** Here are some lamps that we seriously considered, but in the end decided against. Click for links to the products: left, middle, right. Allmodern.com and ylighting.com are great places to shop for cool lighting.

I Love Tile. The availability of colors, patterns, and shapes is nearly limitless. The one on the left from Popham Design (which sells truly stunning cement tiles, by the way) uses a traditional Japanese "asanoha" pattern.  As I'll explain… — **I Love Tile.** The availability of colors, patterns, and shapes is nearly limitless. The one on the left from Popham Design (which sells truly stunning cement tiles, by the way) uses a traditional Japanese "asanoha" pattern. As I'll explain in a future post, we are using an asanoha tile mosaic in Shiba Ramen, although with a different tile.

It was important to us that four elements were deployed in the design: wood, tile, lighting, and color. And we needed to incorporate these elements in a tight physical structure that maximized the overall appearance without compromising the function of our restaurant. We had to consider what kind of window our bar and point of sale space would provide into the food prep going on in the kitchen.

In a perfect world, we would have used wood or tile as the surface facade under the bar and point of sale. But because we were locked into using the landlord's pre-selected finishes (see renderings above), we had to find a way to implement these elements behind the counter. And everything had to be executed in a way so as to complement and not compete with the landlord's finishes (fortunately, those finishes create a foreground that fits well with the aesthetic we're looking for). The ultimate point was to be thoughtful and balanced as we put the pieces together.

In the next posts, I'll show our our final design: the materials we selected and how we're putting them together. I'll also take detours into a couple of the really cool Japanese design elements we thought about using along the way.

Space Design Back Story: Oakland's Most Dangerous Garden

June 28, 2015 Jake

We've been waiting to get into the design piece of the Shiba Ramen project since we decided to open a restaurant a year ago. The chance to work on design projects helped push us toward starting this kind of business in the first place. But this week, when I sat down to write about our design, I found myself writing not about Shiba Ramen, but about the home renovation projects that, more than anything else, expanded our imaginations to the point where we could even conceive of starting a ramen business. So if you'll bear with me (thanks) let's take a short diversion to my back yard.

Shibas.  In the garden, taken earlier this morning. — **Shibas.** In the garden, taken earlier this morning.

A few years ago, we bought a house in Oakland. In exchange for getting a good deal on the price, we signed up for lots of deferred maintenance (roof, electrical, seismic retrofit, etc.) and much-needed cosmetic work. We retiled the floor and resurfaced the walls in our sunroom, spending a lot of time thinking about tile and even more time covered in thinset mortar and drywall mud. We converted the nasty-ass 1960s man cave in the basement (fully equipped with tufted white vinyl wet bar, naked lady ice cube trays, and a sign that said "If you had it last night . . . smile") into a colorful play room. Before the retile and the man cave, we totally overhauled our back yard, building a pergola, a fence, a patio, rock stairs, raised beds, and planting a botanical garden's worth of the insane array of plants you can grow in the Bay Area.

A necessary predicate to building our little backyard oasis---still incomplete, by the way, with funds for the glorious deck of our dreams diverted to opening a ramen restaurant---we had to demolish a grand eyesore of concrete and stone; one that combined the aesthetics of the Classical Mediterranean with those of Mordor, with some faded aquamarine paint for a splash of color. It was a downtrodden concrete pond, over which a concrete floating stair bridge led to a badly decomposed and submerged-in-dirt brick patio. On the terrace patio, reminiscent of some dilapidated Acropolis, ten white wooden columns were arrayed in a square, but whatever roof they once supported was long gone. Big brown quartz rocks were cemented all around the concrete pond, and smaller jagged quartz rocks were studded into every step of the bridge. The bridge was supported by long pieces of rebar anchored into 18-inch thick concrete blocks at each end.

This fucking bridge survived the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake unscathed. It was formidable. It was hideous. It was dangerous for children. Like really dangerous for children. There was actually a sign at the open house warning prospective buyers of the threat to their children that the backyard presented. Anyone who has taken the California bar exam was forced to learn about "attractive nuisance." This is an obscure legal doctrine that makes landowners liable for the injuries of trespassing children, where the land contains some feature that attracts unsuspecting children to their doom. This bridge/pond business in my yard could have been a great hypothetical for bar study. Fortunately, I got rid of it before the lawsuits started pouring in!

And I got rid of it with extreme prejudice. It turns out I really love demolition. So as soon as we closed on the house, I went to Home Depot and got a sledgehammer, and then I beat on the bridge methodically until it was just a bunch of exposed rebar. But when the sledgehammer proved useless on the thicker concrete, I had to go back to Home Depot. This time for a jackhammer. Said the customer service dude: "You ever used one of these before?" Said me: "No." Said the dude: "Please sign here." Said the day laborers hovering around in the parking lot as I wheeled the jackhammer to the car: "That looks like a two-person job." Said me: "Thanks, I've got it."

I had it, but barely. Jackhammers are heavy. So I brought it home and got to business. It did the trick on the thick concrete, but that wasn't the end of the story. There was so much concrete in the yard, in various places, that even after the bridge was gone I was sledgehammering intermittently for months (breaking my first sledgehammer in the process and needing a second!). I produced a staggering amount of rubble and had to spend $2000 just to get rid of it.

While the demo was underway, Hiroko and I set about designing a new garden. We spent absurd amounts of time at Home Depot, American Soil & Stone (I seriously love that place), Ashby Lumber, and any number of East Bay garden centers. We bought 3000 pounds of ledge stone, 10 cubic yards of dirt, 8 cubic yards of crushed lava, black basalt patio stones, Mexican pebbles, and lots of redwood. We read books on landscape design and construction, figured out our plan, and went out and built our garden. This was a pretty huge project, and Hiroko was pregnant during the entire affair. That didn't stop her from mortaring cinderblocks and excavating trenches, though. We did every bit of the labor ourselves (except the rubble removal).

Three Years In.  Our garden today, getting greener every year. — **Three Years In.** Our garden today, getting greener every year.

I think that, more than anything else, this garden project prepared us to undertake Shiba Ramen. It showed us that we were capable of going outside of our comfort zones, learning completely new skills, and applying them to a complicated multi-stage effort. We learned that we loved design and loved building things, although the fact that we both spent years designing and building molecules in the lab suggests that these interests were always there, but just needed the right outlet. Perhaps most importantly, Hiroko and I learned how to work together really effectively, and developed a much deeper understanding of how our individual skills complement one another.

Next time, we'll leave my yard and head back to Shiba Ramen.