Damn good sushi. Courtesy: Sassy Raconeur

I do the same thing over and over. Improving bit by bit.

- Jiro Ono

In 2011, a documentary called Jiro Dreams of Sushi came out that tracked the life of 85-year-old sushi master, Jiro Ono, and how, over a lifetime of daily routine, like a single stream of water etching a hole in stone, Jiro has etched out one of the finest sushi experiences in the world.

On the surface, the quality of Jiro’s work is almost self-evident. Three Michelin stars. President Obama and Shinzo Abe dining there in 2014. Countless celebrities making it a point to visit his 10-seat restaurant. A month long wait list that fills the moment it becomes available.

Yes, this is damn good sushi and possibly the best sushi on the planet.

Like a radio tower, Jiro has been quietly broadcasting a signal so low but so penetrating that it has taken 85 years to build to this level.

But the question remains, how did he do it?

There must be something here to tell us what makes Jiro’s signal so strong, and his frequency so penetrating. An astute observation by the late Roger Ebert gives us an insightful glimpse into this mystery, a “portrait of tunnel vision” as he refers to it:

“Standing behind his counter, Jiro notices things. Some customers are left-handed, some right-handed. That helps determine where they are seated at his counter. As he serves a perfect piece of sushi, he observes it being eaten. He knows the history of that piece of seafood. He knows his staff has recently started massaging an octopus for 45 minutes and not half an hour, for example. Does he search a customer’s eyes for a signal that this change has been an improvement? Half an hour of massage was good enough to win three Michelin stars. You realize the tragedy of Jiro Ono’s life is that there are not, and will never be, four stars.” (Ebert, 2012)

Here is a man whose only obsession is not money, not power, not fame, but the perfect piece of sushi. If he had listened to the prevalent wisdom of the crowds, he may have picked a very different path.

But Jiro’s path is not a well-trodden one, it is a relentless pursuit of high quality. In narrowing his focus, like a lens directing sunlight to a single focal point, Jiro has increased his signal to noise ratio to other-worldly levels.

Take a look again at Roger Ebert’s description. Jiro notices things, whether customers are left or right handed. He serves. He observes. He knows the history of the food but he constantly seeks more. He makes a change to how he prepares. He searches his customer’s eyes for a signal that this change has been an improvement. The signal. These are the signs of a master tuning his frequency for maximum impact.

Observation

One sign of a high quality source is an astute power of observation. Observation is essential for the tuning process. Without a process in place to receive feedback, a radio tower only sends a signal one direction.

Over time, a radio tower that only sends a signal out but never receives a response back may find itself broadcasting on a frequency that no one is tuned into. This does not result in a very strong signal no matter how positive its content.

With all the little observations Jiro makes, from noticing which hand a customer favors, to watching the signals in their eyes as they eat, he is collecting this feedback endlessly. In contrast to the mass marketing surveys mentioned in The Secret of In-N-Out’s Success, this is not an impersonal check-the-box questionnaire. This is communication at a very deep level.

Jiro doesn’t talk very much in the documentary and probably talks even less in real life. But he is always communicating. The give and take between him and his customers is the life blood that keeps him going, keeps him tuned to his relentless pursuit and gives an endless stream of feedback that he can continue to use ad infinitum.

He doesn’t speak, but, like a stand-up comedian testing a different delivery of the same material, his decision to massage the octopus another 15 minutes is almost methodically experimental. It is, in fact, very similar to the tuning of a radio transistor. And he is checking if the signal lands more clearly.

Knowledge

To say the least, sushi has a long history in Japan. To be arguably the best sushi master in Tokyo is akin to being unanimously acknowledged as the best programmer in Silicon Valley. To be recognized as such in an area, geographically and professionally, so saturated with brilliance is in itself amazing. But, similar to how programming is built upon the logical foundations and discoveries of those who came before, so it is with sushi, and really any pursuit of quality.

The feedback loop isn’t just relative to customers. It is relative to history. You see, quality is a funny thing, it has no upper limit. Which is pretty awesome especially if you like sushi. But, the other funny thing about quality is that the higher you go, it’s like approaching the exosphere of Earth’s atmosphere, it gets really really hard to push that much higher still.

The reason for this is that, like space exploration, as you push the limits of quality, you inevitably come across thresholds that have previously never been surpassed by humanity. It is quite literally, an undiscovered country.

As such, there’s a couple ways a particularly focused explorer could go. Build upon what has been discovered before and try to push it further than anyone else has before. Or, assume everything else that has come before is now bunk and try something completely different. Neither option is wrong per se.

To send a quality signal, you could start with a blank slate, but it will take you a lot longer. Why not save the time and learn what the masters have done before you and why? Then you can decide what to take and what to leave behind.

Iteration

Iteration, which is typical to any process of tuning, is critical to forming a quality signal over time. All masters use iteration in a never-ending loop of trial and error to improve their crafts. At first, this iteration resembles practice, as the initial skillsets are molded and perfected. Then, as the so-called ten thousand hours of practice evolves to mastery, iteration takes on another purpose: discovery and experimentation.

But there is something else significant about this process. Can you think of another field that similarly iterates in such a methodical manner? In an almost… scientifically methodical manner? Yes, modern science is built upon this process of iteration, of carefully testing and observing feedback.

The commonality of iteration provides a crucial clue as to how we can finally bridge the divide between the arts and the sciences. The masters of arts do exhibit this very scientific trait without a doubt. So why don’t we find more scientists that are able to cross the divide and make a comparably heartfelt impact on our psyches? Why can’t we pick up their signal in the same way?

Intent

If the arts can be more methodical in their discovery process, then the sciences can be more empathetic to their audience. Methodical iteration in a vacuum is cold. But methodical iteration with the intent to connect with others is not.

If science were to make this leap more often we would have a better idea as to whether simply making something faster, stronger or smarter for the sake of doing so is really better. Thus, understanding our own intent is critical to the iteration process.

In the same way In-N-Out essentially has “you deserve this awesome burger” as a powerful intent behind all that it does, Jiro turns this sense of purpose up to eleven by sending the following signal: “I will not rest until I deliver to you the most perfect piece of sushi on the planet”.

Both intents are admirably focused on a positive message, but you can see how Jiro has taken even In-N-Out’s focus to a whole other level. Without these focal points, even Jiro and In-N-Out would have found it difficult to contain the inevitable entropy induced by constant iteration.

Observe. Learn. Iterate. These are the tools at Jiro’s disposal that he has meticulously applied on a daily basis for over 85 years. While we don’t all have the good fortune to have 85 years to hone our chosen craft, we can all benefit from tuning our frequencies. However, if there is one critical lesson to be learned from Jiro regarding maximizing one’s signal it is this:

If the intent is weak, the signal doesn’t matter.

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