Brace yourself for news about a mom-and-pop operation that has been in Waipahu since 1920. Here it is: The third generation has taken over. Unbelievable!

In recent years, longtime family-owned businesses have become an endangered species in Hawai'i. But thanks to Ira Ishihara, grandson of the original owners, Ishiharaya continues the tradition of making crisp, golden senbei in the former sugar-cane town.

"It's not something you're gonna make your fortune on and retire early," Ira admits. "It's more a labor of love."

Ishiharaya makes the wheat variety of senbei and calls them "Plantation Tea Cookies." You can crunch into original, sesame, ginger and the biggest of the bunch, kawara, named for its Japanese roof-tile shape. Ira also bakes up personalized fortune cookies that can be filled with M&Ms, or as one customer requested, an engagement ring.

Going to Ishiharaya is a treat in itself. You leave busy Farrington Highway, and find yourself along Kapakahi Stream, just down the hill from the smokestack of the old sugar mill. You might see a big, brown cane spider crawling along the road. You even appreciate the sprawling Servco Auto lot that dominates the block. That's because right after you pass it, the change in scene from grand dealership to simple senbei shop warms the nostalgic heart.

Inside, black-and-white photos of old Waipahu grace the walls, including a portrait of the founders, Nobuo and Sasayo Ishihara. The place has a rustic charm, with lanterns, metal tubs and — paying homage to the town — rooster figurines and palaka cloth (made famous by Arakawa's department store).

Through the glass window, watch Ira and his senbei-making machine at work. The dough he creates is "extruded," or forced out, two dollops at a time onto one of 50 heated metal plates. Matching upper plates close over them, shaping the senbei and baking them on both sides, like a Foreman grill. A conveyer belt moves everything along, and at the end, the finished tea cookies are scraped off, cooled and hand-packed into bags.

Ginger senbei is the shop's most popular item. Ira uses locally grown ginger for a more intense flavor. His dad, Hideo, the "Dean" of the original George Dean Photo Studio, washes, scrubs and peels the ginger. The extracted juice is mixed with sugar and water, then blended with the senbei in a giant tumbler that looks like a shiny, stainless-steel version of the plant from "Little Shop of Horrors." You can almost hear it saying, "Feed me, Ira!" The result is a sweet senbei with a frosty white glaze that contains heavenly wisps of ginger.

Longtime customer Jean Murakawa loves it. "The one that's broke the mouth is the ginger," she says. "I hunt for that one (in the assorted pack)."

The counter overflows with Murakawa's bags of senbei — thank-you gifts for people who prayed for her during a recent hospital stay. This is okaeshi, she explains, which means giving back for the gifts and blessings you have received.

The 72-year-old Murakawa grew up in Waipahu and remembers when Nobuo and Sasayo sold shave ice, ice cream and the best an (sweetened azuki-bean) doughnuts. "They worked hard," she says, and then referring to Ira, "I give him credit. It's not an easy tradition."

It's not what Ira originally had in mind, either. In 1999, he was working for Delta Air Lines in Los Angeles. His uncle, Mitsuo, who had been running the shop, planned to retire.

No one pushed Ira to return home and take over. But something inside him said it was time to step up. "You always read in the paper about these places closing, and I saw my uncle getting older," says Ira. "My grandparents, they put all their hard work, their labor into this business. ... I think I have a responsibility to continue their legacy."

So Ira took a step down at his company and transferred to a part-time position in Hawai'i. Today, he still works at the airline five nights a week, making senbei Tuesdays through Fridays at the shop. He puts in at least 70 hours a week. Seems like the Ishihara work ethic is another tradition that has been passed down. His grandparents would be proud.

Growing up, what Ira remembers most about the shop is the interaction. Customers would be coming in and out. Friends would drop by to talk story. "Especially during the holidays — everybody is here spending time with the family," he says. "All my cousins would come, and it was nice to have them around."

You feel that same sense of community at Ishiharaya today. Ira's dad, mom, sister and fiancee all help out. Customers share stories of small-kid time in Waipahu, when they slid down the hill of the sugar mill on cardboard and hungrily ate the brown sugar they received from Oahu Sugar. They also talk about how so-and-so's daughter is now at Columbia University. It's neighbors reminiscing and catching up, even though many of them don't live nearby anymore.

Louise Funasaki, of 'Aiea, arrives with daughter Kristy to pick up $50 worth of senbei for those who couldn't make it to Kristy's graduation party. "We used to always have it at Grandma's," the younger Funasaki recalls. Mom adds, "The plantation culture and traditions are dwindling, and this place maintains it. It's such a great opportunity to share it with my daughter."

For Ira, that's what matters. You "try to do something meaningful," he says. "It makes you feel good when people come in and say, 'I'm glad you're still open.' That motivates me to keep it going."

So believe it. You can enjoy senbei that's baked fresh in Waipahu. After 87 years and three generations, Ishiharaya is here to stay.

Lisa Sekiya works in The Advertiser's marketing department and spends her spare time seeking out inexpensive eateries.