Before the tech craze Chapin created a new way to wok

Some restaurateurs say you don't need to be a rocket scientist to succeed in foodservice. But perhaps you do. Roger Chapin is an example of someone who straddled both specialties, laying the groundwork for today's industry techies.

Silicon Valley computer programmer Chapin a quarter century ago began to dabble in wok-E.T. science. He was one of the garage technologists whose exploits enrich the lore of "The Valley"--the San Jose-San Francisco peninsula area that spawned so many technology innovations. He no doubt is lesser known than some but nonetheless is an interesting and imaginative forerunner from whom folks might take inspiration.

I met Chapin in 1986, when Chinese foods were really catching on in America. One of the biggest stumbling blocks to would-be Chinese-chain moguls, such as Jim Morris and Ken Hausman, however, was the lack of skilled kitchen labor outside of Chinese population centers. The pair, with a lone Sunnyvale, Calif., branch of their Chinese-delivery concept, China Shuttle, had dreams of becoming the Domino's of Asian cuisine, but the human-resources challenge was obvious.

Enter Chapin.

For six years he spent much of his free time and between $25,000 and $40,000 of his own money to devise some prototype robotic woks with brains supplied by a RadioShack Model 100 computer. At a time when many who owned those computers couldn't even consistently dial up others and transfer files, the foodservice-fancying programmer had his dialed into cooking in a couple of different Chinese dialects at China Shuttle.

Years ago I reported on Chapin's innovation:

A user merely has to call up the recipe menu and select a specific dish, load a cartridge filled at some earlier point with the necessary ingredients and push the start button. The rest is mind-boggling:

There is a "whooshing" sound as the gas burner kicks in and preheats the slowly rotating wok. Next, cooking oil flows down a funnel into the wok and coats the sides and bottom before the first batch of ingredients drops in from the overhanging cartridge. A wire whisk extending from the outer lip of the wok to its center then starts to spin and churn up foodstuffs.

Amid all of the agitation, the brain is commanding the condiment reservoir atop the exhaust hood to sprinkle in goodies, such as soy sauce, sherry, broth, sesame oil and cornstarch. The rest of the ingredients are added according to required cooking times. When the dish is done, the gas shuts off and the wok comes to a halt.

I wrote those words for a technology supplement that appeared in Nation's Restaurant News nearly 19 Julys ago, and they still conjure images that make me smile.

China Shuttle, for the variety of reasons that keep 99.9 percent of the restaurant concepts created in this world from becoming the next Domino's or McDonald's, did not take off on a growth curve reminiscent of the trajectory of its outbound NASA kin.

Chapin's wok apparently was not snapped up by a major foodservice chain or equipment manufacturer, but that wasn't because of food quality. Bay Area Chinese cuisine authority and PBS cooking-show host Ken Hom at the time said of the fare turned out by the seemingly extraterrestrial wok: "I was very impressed. It's not as good as what you can get in Hong Kong, but it's better than what you can get in most restaurants in this country."

No doubt Chapin was disappointed that his wok didn't catch on, but I'm betting he wasn't heartbroken, even if he was ahead of his time. I say that because when I asked him why he had tackled the feat, he explained: "It boils down to an obsessive love of Chinese food. I didn't do it for the money. I was more motivated by the idea of having a positive impact on spreading [Chinese cuisine]. That might sound corny, but that's the way I am."

Wok on, Roger, wherever you are! Wok on!

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