Five Great Japanese White Bread Torture Devices

Edwin Goei

​
Who says white bread has to be synonymous with boring? The following are five Japanese inventions that crimp, pleat and grate slices of white into crustless, undeniably cute shapes worthy of Hello Kitty. What more interesting than the fact that these devices exist is that the local branch of Marukai in Costa Mesa has an entire shelf dedicated to them. An entire shelf!

Translations are approximate and based on the educated guesses of one non-Japanese speaker who, fortunately, can make deductions by reading the simple schematics. If you happen to read Japanese and can offer more informed translations, please chime in with a comment.
5. Sandwich Crimper

Edwin Goei

​
This particular device might just be the simplest and most straightforward in its function. Put your chosen filling between two slices of bread, place the template on top, and then press--and voilà, a crustless sandwich that Smucker's Corp. sells for a premium as Uncrustables®.
 
4. Sandwich Pocketer

Edwin Goei

​
This contraption seems to take a slice of bread, fold it in half, and then cut off a jig-jagged pattern off the top to make pita-like pockets that can be filled with whatever you choose to stuff into the cavity. A microwave is apparently needed to make your bread medium pliant.
 
3. Crust Grater

Edwin Goei

​
This one seems to be a device to take off the crust by grating. I am, however, puzzled about the amorphous glob pictured in the lower half of the packaging.
 
2. Crust Grater With a Smile

Edwin Goei

​
This seems to be another crust grater, except this one has a winking smiley face on it. I'm still, however, unsure of why the two cartoon onigiris on the left are there, as well as why there seems to be a ghostly figure emanating from the slice of bread on the right.
 
1. Sandwich Guillotine

Edwin Goei

​
Okay, this could very well be just a plain old bread slicer, not a guillotine. But if there's any truth that one of the greatest things ever is sliced bread, then it would have to be true that it all has to start here. . . .