A lot of things in Hilo never change, and those who call it home like it that way. It's always kept its small-town charm, despite a few modern conveniences taking root. Rustic wooden storefronts line the main downtown thoroughfare, stores shutter by 9 p.m. and a sweet mist of rain seems to permanently hang in the air. Hilo's low profile is purposeful, given to sports on Saturdays, slow Sundays and nights talking story in someone's garage. It's also a town where family ties bind, a value that has kept many generational businesses going, even through difficult seasons.
If you grew up in Hilo, you know Maebo Noodle Factory. Started by Japanese immigrants in 1950, Maebo is now in its fourth generation of operation, set to celebrate its seventy-fifth anniversary in 2025. Maebo was originally known for its variety of fresh noodles: saimin , chow fun , udon and pi (the wrapper used for wonton), all handmade daily by the family matriarch, Koto Maebo. She would feed dough through a hand-cranked machine in her garage and deliver noodles on a bicycle to local restaurants. Maebo is best known today for the sweet and salty chip Koto invented by deep-frying strips of sweetened wonton pi. You can't miss the bags of Maebo's One-Ton Chips on store shelves, designed by Koto's son Aketo, with its bright red banner and the Charles Atlas-type weightlifting mascot dressed in a red Speedo-like brief, hoisting a barbell emblazoned with the pun "One-Ton."
Koto didn't intend for her One-Ton Chips to take off. "In Japanese culture, small gifts are often given to customers by the store owner to show appreciation for their support," says Randall Maebo, one of the family's third generation. "Obachan [grandmother] would gather and fry the kuzu [leftovers] from the production of the wonton wrappers and give it to those special customers. Before long, those customers asked to purchase the chips. Today, One-Ton Chips dwarfs the sales of noodles."
Maebo Noodle Factory founder Koto Maebo created the Hilo company's One-Ton Chip recipe by sweetening and frying strips of wonton pi , which she gave to customers as a thank-you. Today it's Maebo's signature product, and the family business is being carried forward by its fourth generation.
If you didn't grow up in Hilo, you might miss the warehouse altogether. Maebo Noodle Factory is next to Kai Store (another storied landmark), in a large, windowless, sheet-metal building, completely nondescript save for a small banner zip-tied to the chain-link fence outside. It's an "if you know, you know," situation, and those who know still go straight to the source to buy their Maebo products, Tuesday through Friday from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. (park and knock on the door to the left of the building and someone will answer). The original factory was in lower Papaikou before moving to Hilo in 1964. A devastating fire gutted the building in 2003, but the family rebuilt it, four times bigger than before, and it was fully operational again by 2007. During the years of rebuilding, the Maebo family found ways to keep going using other certified kitchens.
As with any family business, a line of succession is not guaranteed, although in Hawaii there's some sense of kuleana (responsibility) for continuing the legacy. That kuleana represents the sacrifices made in pursuit of a dream—one designed to make a better life for the generations who come after.
The fourth generation of Maebos—Chasity Enoka (41), Porsche Nathaniel (36) and Jarek Maebo (24)—now carry the responsibility of moving the business forward while staying grounded in the values of their ancestors: humility, hard work and giving back to the community that has supported the Maebo family for three-quarters of a century.
"Sometimes it's hard to find a balance between the previous generations' ways of doing business and keeping it fresh," says Enoka, who grew up working in the factory and returned as vice president and secretary for the company in 2016. "It's a responsibility, but I also want to do this. Taking care of our employees and giving back to our community have always been our foundation, and we will make sure that continues."
Richard Ban (left) hand-cuts wonton pi alongside Toshiko "Big Auntie" Myakaku.
William Rapoza (left) and Ronald Ah Hee pack bulk bags of noodles.
For Jarek, the factory was all he knew. His father, Blane, who died in 2023, was the third generation to serve as president, and his wife, Lehua, worked right beside him. "I started to help on the line when I was in intermediate school," says Jarek. "I was the designated flashlight holder when my dad would work on fixing things in the factory, so I learned along the way." Jarek joined the business full time the same year as Enoka, learning every job on the line, and now serves as president. "My dad was a man of few words, but he taught me everything I needed to know to take on this role. We all wear many hats. I'm also quality control, dough mixer and equipment fixer."
Jarek is one of only two people who know the One-Ton Chip recipe. "It's all up here," he says, tapping the side of his head. "I don't think anyone ever wrote it down. I guess we should really do that, huh?" For now, Jarek preps the secret sauce for the chips a day ahead, and the employees take care of the rest.
Before the fire in 2003, Maebo Noodle Factory was automated, from mixing to noodle cutting to filling, weighing and sealing. However, Blane wanted to provide more jobs for the community, so when the factory reopened in 2007, humans replaced machines for once, and fifteen employees took over all the filling, weighing and sealing of One-Ton Chip bags. Today the factory produces 32,400 pounds of One-Ton Chips every month, selling them in four- and fifteen-ounce bags available in most grocery stores and gas stations statewide. They also have a twenty-ounce bag at Costco and Sam's Club in Hawaii, and Costco in the Bay Area. Enoka also developed a furikake One-Ton Chip, available only at the factory (except during the holidays, when you can also find it at KTA Super Stores on Hawaii Island).
Maebo cranks out 560 pounds of noodles monthly, too, sold to local restaurants for use in salads and kalua pig nachos. The chips are also sold as far away as Las Vegas, California and Washington state.
Maebo Noodle Factory offers just a few products, but it's enough. In keeping with the family's "no waste" mantra, Porsche Nathaniel uses the discarded pieces of chips to make One-Ton Chip shortbread cookies—sweet, buttery, crunchy cookies that Nathaniel makes by hand. Rose Seguban sifts crumbs from a fresh batch of chips to be used in Nathaniel's cookies.
On a Thursday the factory is bustling. Bryan Baker mans the fryer, his usual post, armed with two large long-handled steel strainers. He scoops mounds of freshly fried chips into a colander to drain. His glasses, fogged from the heat, are pushed down to the middle of his nose so he can see over the top. He places the strainers down long enough to season the cooling chips. It's just three minutes between batches. Three industrial fans cool the chips quickly for packing, making his job the noisiest in the room. Most of the employees have a few tasks on which they focus. You would think the repetitiveness would get boring, but they beg to differ and easily pass the time with chatter.
Joel Arruda, 60, makes twenty years with Maebo Noodle Factory this October. He's at a table with Elizabeth Fujimoto, 77, sifting excess flour off batches of uncooked chips, which are placed in red gallon buckets for frying. "Elizabeth keeps me on my toes," Arruda jokes. Fujimoto points a gloved finger at him. "He's teasing me because I'm the oldest one here," says Fujimoto. "Everyone in here could be my child!"
"The Maebo family gave me a job when I didn't have one," says Arruda. "I got really depressed when I lost my previous job. I grew up here in Hilo, and the Maebo family was always so nice. I just jumped right in. They help their workers out a lot. It feels like we are part of the family."
Generation next: (left to right) Jarek Maebo, Porsche Nathaniel, Maxine Maebo, Chasity Enoka and Lehua Maebo.
Rose Seguban is on the production line, dusting salt from her uniform. "Look at me!" she laughs. "I'm covered!" Seguban sifts the smaller, broken pieces of chips into a bucket, which is set aside for another Maebo product. Golden brown chips, slightly twisted from frying, line the seventeen-foot stainless steel cooling table from end to end. Employees fill quart-size plastic containers with chips, which are then poured into bags and weighed by hand before taking their final ride through an X-ray machine—like a TSA checkpoint for snacks—to look for foreign objects before they are sealed.
The third musketeer in the fourth-generation legacy is Porsche Nathaniel, who jumps on the line at the front of the X-ray and stands the open bags on end, feeding them through the machine. "I used to be the fastest at this!" she says. "I'm out of practice." Nathaniel, who spends her days as a realtor, is the mastermind behind one of Maebo's favorite products: One-Ton Chip shortbread cookies. She makes all the cookies herself to this day—between four thousand and twenty-thousand cookies a week, depending on the season—using the pieces of broken chips that would otherwise be wasted.
"With great-grandma Koto, there was never anything wasted, so we learned to innovate and try new things," says Nathaniel. "It's in our genes. It was important to me to have a new product with my own twist on it when I joined the family business—something that would make my grandma Rachael proud."
Down the generations, through fires, economic downturns and the pandemic, the Maebo family has kept the chips coming, forgoing automation to employ as many Hilo residents as possible.
Maxine Maebo, daughter of second-generation owner Aketo and his wife, Rachael, was two when the Hilo factory was first built; now 63, she is still an officer for the company. She remembers hard times in the early days, but also the dedication of her obachan and ojichan (grandfather), as well as her parents, in making do with what they had. "My grandparents used to have to wait for the chickens to lay the eggs so they could make the noodles," says Maxine. "They were poor. Money was always tight. My parents never shared that part of it with us, but at home I could tell money was tight. People always thought we were a rich family, but we really had to pinch and save."
Family duty required that she "work" at an early age. "I remember a lot of long hours for my parents," recalls Maxine. "Sometimes the machines would break, and we'd have to stay until midnight. One of my jobs when I was about five was packing the chips by hand. I remember sometimes I would get mad and I'd overstuff the chips into the bag, so when it went through the roller the person who was sealing it had to stop and unload it. They would get so mad at me, but I just wanted to go home and watch TV." If Ojichan was in a good mood, at the end of the day, he'd give Maxine a quarter for her labor. "Kai Store is right next door, so I'd run as fast as I could and spend my money on candy," she recalls.
When the fire struck in 2003, the family had just replaced the factory's roof. "I had just come in from Maui, and my grandma Rachael picked me up," recalls Enoka. "We were driving home when my friend called me and said, 'I think your guys' building is on fire.' My gram and I were the first ones on the scene, even before the firetrucks. It was already engulfed. My gram was just devastated ... the reality of seeing something she worked so hard for just burning to the ground."
"It all could have ended after the fire, but it was decided right away that the factory would be rebuilt," says Jarek. "I feel really honored to continue this legacy, and I'm grateful for all the effort the generations before me put in for us to be able to have this. Some people don't like working with family, but I think we all share the same mindset. We are all looking out for the family business together, not just our own personal interests. It's easy to work together because it means something to all of us."
