Shinosuke and Panel discuss faulty fried rice

A culture reporter from Asahi Shimbun is ushered into Shinosuke's room for a few questions. He comes out after a few minutes, sits on a couch across from the NHK PR handler, Mr Tanaka, and asks, "Is he in a bad mood or something?"

"Oh, no, he's just... preoccupied. Did you see the studio? Let's go and see the studio." And off they go. Mr Tanaka is very good at his job but he has the quality of insect repellent: you could buzz around him all day and never get close.

From behind a curtain I hear an electric razor buzzing three-day-old stubble. Kitaori walks out and looks surprised to see me, but not too much to sit down and say hello while he finishes his shave in time for rehearsal - which starts in ten minutes. It's one in the afternoon but he looks like he just woke up.

"I'm responsible for overseeing all the shows these days so my hours are longer," he says.

Just to be sociable I ask, "How is your wife?"

Kitaori's eyes, which always struck me as unusually round for a Japanese, get even rounder when he hears the question. "We're separated."

I think of a good Japanese friend who also married a television producer. She lived the life of a TV widow for two years before calling it quits. "He should have married the TV station," she told me once.

Kitaori gets up to take care of business just as Mr Tanaka comes back, dragging with him the director of the show, Aoyanagi. "Here - he's the director. Will he do for your interview later?" Aoyanagi looks handsome, squeaky clean and just out of college.

"Yes," I say, "he'll do."

We all go into the studio and bump into NHK announcer Fumie Ono. "He's going to write about you and make you famous," says Tanaka. She smiles and bows. "Oh.. pleased to meet you. Yoroshiku."

A few minutes later, Kitaori and Aoyanagi are sitting in the tarento guest seats, looking incredibly photogenic in the studio monitors. Everybody is in position; the rehearsal begins. Intro music plays and the camera pans to Shinosuke, who walks in circles, mumbling his lines in a hoarse whisper. He still needs a shave.

He circles around some rehearsal fried rice and tries some. "Hey, this is pretty good," he says and takes another spoonful. "Don't eat too much,"says the director. "I haven't had lunch yet." Shinosuke is quite popular with older Japanese and it's easy to see why. "The kids coming up nowadays go straight into showbiz," he said in a recent interview. "I was a salaryman for a number of years and I learned a lot about people and everyday life there." His comedy grew out of that sensibility and he aims at that audience.

A photographer comes over and asks me what kind of pictures I want. I look around: Shinosuke is huddled with Kitaori making a point. "I think we should really show how short eight seconds with the egg is before adding the rice." The cameramen are studying the camera angles written in the script; a sound man sits staring at his mixing board. "Anything that looks interesting," I say hopefully and go out for coffee.

Tanaka is on the couch, so I sit down and ask him about the show. "We're in our fifth year now. That's, um, 236 shows."

"Does Gatten get many requests from the media?"

"Quite a few; surprisingly, it's pretty popular."

"With what kind of people?"

"Older folks... housewives in their fifties mostly."

Right on cue a group of housewives file past and into the studio.

"They didn't look so old to me."

The Asahi Shimbun reporter joins us on the couch.

"I'll check just to make sure" I say.

I check. Mean age: 45. Shinosuke's apprentice, Shinokichi, is standing in front of them doing some manzai.

"Now I know you have turned off your keitai phones, but let's just make extra sure by removing the battery and slipping it in the far side of your purse. And remember, if you have to fart just hold it in, otherwise the microphones will pick it up."

The housewives giggle; they are here to have a good time.

"OK, ladies, let's practice the 'Gatten' pose... Ready? One, two, three. GATTEN!" A few ladies nearly shout it while doing the pose: smashing fist into palm. There are no men in the audience.

"Ohhhh, that's very good, you're all ready to go," he croons.

What does mayo have to do with fried rice anyway?

That's Geinokai, babe
I am always interested in why people do what they do. I guess it's the reason I'm here and I want to know how this young guy came to be buttering up groups of housewives. I ask Tanaka if I can ask Shinokichi some questions.

"No," he explains, "We have to have Shinosuke's permission first."

Welcome to the draconian protocol of "Geinokai," a.k.a. Japanese show business, where apprentices/assistants slave away for years for their masters.

"It's not as bad as it might seem," Tanaka says. "In America, everyone expects you to be a pro before you can break in. Here you don't have to know much about showbiz; an apprentice learns as he goes along. And you get to make lots of connections."

Tanaka also makes a big deal about the pictures. "You can't have pictures of the tarento unless it's cleared by their managers."

Outside in the hall, there is a small flutter as the very tarento in question arrive. Today's guests are Mami Yamase, who you may have seen dressed as a bug in Kincho bugspray commercials; Junko Ikechi, who specializes in "wide drama" obasan roles; and Shinnosuke Ikehata, better know as Peter, the okama who played the jester in Kurosawa's Ran. Peter is in full okama mode today with chapatsu browned hair and a kogaru tan but fortunately no kogaru white panda makeup.

All the tarento have personal assistants hovering in the wings. Mami gives her hair one last tease before the camera rolls and hands a mirror with pink huggy bears printed on it back to her assistant.

"Why is Mami famous?" I ask my NHK photographer.

"She used to be an idol singer," he says.

"Can she sing?"

"No."

"You should see what some tarento have their assistants bring...a virtual coffee shop and baggage out to here." Tanaka is standing beside me and smiling to himself as the taping starts. It is like somebody threw a switch somewhere: suddenly everything is pretty and polished. Shinosuke is shaved and has memorized his lines in less than two hours. The housewives pound fists on cue. It's a very smooth machine.

Kitaori and Shinosuke discuss the 8 second egg

Fried rice perfected
The show digs into the fried rice/mayonnaise mystery connection with a videotaped battery of housewives making fried rice and all manner of microscope test results: this one is too oily, too dry, too sticky. The secret gradually emerges: it is all timing and temperature.

The wok has to be good and hot before adding the oil (at least one minute at high flame). The raw egg is the very first to go in and cooks only eight seconds or so before warm rice is added. Why? Raw egg absorbs the oil like mayonnaise and coats the rice evenly, sealing in the moisture yet keeping it from sticking together. Add chopped onion, carrot and pork, then salt, pepper and a touch of soy sauce last. The whole thing from start to finish takes less than seven minutes.

Equipped with all the test results, the videotaped housewives try again and, voila: "This is so much better. My family will be really happy," says one. Rigorous application of scientific method results in happy stomachs and harmonious family life.

Finally, the stars of the show line up and have a "fry off" based on the new scientific principle. Peter is very good with a wok. You can tell he likes to cook. Mami acts like it's going to blow up in her face. Junko Ikechi is dressed for the part in a house kimono but is all thumbs. Seven minutes later, they all taste their creations. "That's good... did I really do that?" If Mami can do it, so can anybody, which is the point I guess.

Actually Mami tried it at home and told me about it later.

"I went out, bought a wok and all. Told my husband how good I gotten at it [fried rice] and it tasted lousy."

"Even with the 8 second egg?" I asked.

"The show recipe was for one, not two... I guess I didn't change them [the portions] enough."

Mami Yamase is even prettier off camera than on and, surprisingly, her character is just the same: off-beat, talkative, funny and accessible despite the managers and assistants who surround her constantly.

Mami has been guesting for five years and like the show, is still going strong. "It's not work to me. I just show up and get to learn all kinds of things. Since I don't know anything about the subject [common for guests on the show], I can ask questions that people in the audience would like to hear. I didn't like science in school but it [Gatten] uses everyday things and makes them interesting."

"Like?"

"Last week's show on tomatoes [how to choose sweet ones], and the rice episode... I didn't know that polished white rice oxidizes and looses flavor after a few weeks. Things like that. I like food."

"Do you get much Gatten fan mail?"

"Well my idol days are over so I don't get much fan mail... but when I go abroad, Japanese in places like France and New Zealand tell me they enjoy the program," which is broadcast by satellite all over the world.

Later I ask the director Aoyanagi how much of the tarento star stuff is scripted. "None. We just tell them the theme and they come in cold. It wouldn't be interesting otherwise." When the Fried Rice show is aired two weeks later at 8pm, Aoyanagi and staff would be on hand to personally man the phone lines, a standard NHK policy for all programs it seems - one of the nice things they do in exchange for that monthly NHK fee. Aoyanagi planned on a busy night. "Cooking themes always get the most calls. Everybody wants to know the recipe after the show's over."

I ask him how he got into television.

"Actually, I wanted to be a journalist. Then I saw a really good NHK documentary and decided I wanted to do that."

"Is Gatten documentary?"

"Close enough I guess since we deal with facts."

After 236 shows, I wonder if they ever run out of ideas.

"We always think of something. My next show is in three months, only it's less than three months..."

I take one last look around the studio and see all the cables, the lights and the little inventory stickers tagging every single piece of equipment down to the stools. Fried rice is no longer a mystery to me, but I marvel at the mysteries of money and human energy that keep this gargantuan enterprise running. They will remain just that - a mystery - but at least I've learned how to make fried rice.