Peakal Cheese Rice Crackers

They're "all-natural"! I guess that including silicon dioxide and maltodextrin is good then.

When I was living in Japan, many of my American friends would tell me how much they loved sushi. Since I don't love sushi (I think it's okay, but I'm not mad about it), I found their zeal for it a bit curious. It turns out that they weren't eating the sushi that I was eating because much American sushi is a more elaborate affair than Japanese sushi.

When I say, "elaborate", I mean that it's a more flavorful mess. When it's not, people tend to saturate it with soy sauce, wasabi, etc. to make it tastier to their Americanized palates. In no way do I mean this as a criticism, so please don't misunderstand me. I believe we develop tastes based on the food we're raised with and Americans like strong flavors. Japanese like subtle ones. Sushi in the U.S. and how it is eaten tends to reflect this. My point is that the sushi I had experience with and was so-so about was not the same as the sushi Americans were mad about.

As my regular readers (you know who you are, and I love you for following my drivel) know, I became a huge fan of rice crackers (sembei). Most Americans are a bit so-so on them, or simply don't care for them at all. I can understand that, with flavor-blasted chips and crackers, sembei might seem like a rather boring affair, but I have come to understand that that is not the reason. The reason is that the rice crackers that I was eating in Japan are not the rice crackers that people are eating in America.

I buy most of my sembei from Asian markets and all of it, so far, has been produced for the Japanese market. Occasionally, I do want to try something a bit more "mass market". That is, I pick up something which is sold in a generic American grocery store that anyone living anywhere in the U.S. might conceivably have access to. I do this because I want to see if I'll ever find something which has verisimilitude to what is sold in Japan or whether Americans are doomed to that animal that they call "rice cracker" which seems to be the ugly mutant cousin to Japanese sembei.

I found this package of rice crackers at "Big! Lots". I was there bargain hunting for a memory foam mattress topper and the snacks lured me in. You may scoff at my pedestrian shopping habits, but as long as I'm being paid a dime a post for my blog efforts, I'm going to economically more suited to the "Big! Lots" crowd than the Macy's one. This was about 70 cents, so I didn't have to pay much for my disappointment.

They look a little diseased.

When I tried rice crackers for the American market before, I noted that they were always quite a bit lower in calories. It's clear that the fat content on them is lower and that has a profound impact on the texture. In Japan, rice crackers really are more like chips in that they rarely spare the oil, especially when it comes to the "arare" (small, super crunchy, hard nuggets of rice cracker) ones. In the U.S., someone has clearly decided anything sold as a rice cracker has to be health food. Sure, the calories are lower, but the crackers are tough and crunchy in an unpleasant way. Without the oil, they are harder to chew and bite into and lack the crumbly, crunchy nature of "real" sembei.

These failed on the texture front, but they also failed on the flavor front as well. Though labeled as "cheese", there was barely any flavor powder on them. It's as if they sprinkled enough to add a vague orange cast in select spots and stingily hoarded the rest. Actually, there's a very good chance that there really just wasn't enough oil on the surface to hold onto any salt or flavor powder. It could be that this is a little like air-popped popcorn. Nothing sticks to it so it's like eating Styrofoam packing peanuts.

I didn't expect much of this, but I do still hope to find some good mass market rice crackers without resorting to Asian markets. There are two reasons for this. One is that I'd like to find something that can be had at regular stores. Another and much bigger issue is price. Buying Japanese sembei is not for one who is light in the wallet. If I'm lucky, I can find something on sale for around $2, but far more often than not, they cost $4.00-$6.00 a bag. I have had many experiences in which I've seen some sembei that I loved in Japan, but I simply could not justify paying such a price for a snack. This is especially so when the portions are relatively tiny. So, while this was a disappointment, the search will carry on.

Noodle House Industrial Sesame Cookie Rolls

I love the name of the company that makes these. It seems slightly scary that a food is made by a company which has "industrial" as a part of its name. It reminds me of the episode of the Simpsons in which they go to Japan and the translation they use of various Japanese companies includes "concern" like "Osaka Fish Concern." It makes me wonder if the Chinese equivalent is "industrial".

My experiences with Chinese snacks is rather limited. It's not that I have little interest in them, but rather that, as someone who lived in Japan and operated based on what I could purchase there for many years, I didn't have many opportunities. The Japanese are in an intense rivalry with China and prefer to avoid supporting their businesses, but the food issue is related to perceptions of safety. There were several instances in which Chinese food was reported by the mass media as dangerously contaminated by chemicals, the most widely known of which concerned pot stickers or "gyoza". Businesses in Japan were unlikely to carry Chinese food as consumers didn't trust it based on such suspicions.

These cookies came to me courtesy of a guest who is of Chinese descent. She told me that they were her grandmother's favorites and that she picked them up at a Chinese bakery in San Francisco. The company that makes them makes noodles (surprise, surprise) and dried seafood as well as moon cakes, almond cookies, and other Chinese traditional sweets. Despite my best search efforts, I could not find an online seller of these cookies. However, there are sites which will allow you to inquire about buying them.

The cookies come in a large tin in order to protect their delicate nature. However, despite some plastic inserts for padding, they did tend to break up quite a bit from being transported. I didn't really mind the fact that they broke up a bit as these are very large cookie rolls. I'd guess each is about 5-6 inches long (12.7-15.2 cm). Eating a smaller piece isn't necessarily a bad thing.

The first thing you smell when opening the tin is the scent of coconut. The ingredients list is flour, butter, sugar, egg, sesame, coconut powder, and vanilla. Given that butter is second, it is no surprise that these have a buttery flavor, though the coconut element is the strongest. The sesame is actually eclipsed to a fair extent by the coconut, but it is still quite present. Because they are so fatty, they leave a slightly oily sense on the tongue after you eat one so it is best to have one with tea or a hot drink. They are very crumbly and have a delicate crispy texture which nearly melts in your mouth.

These are thoroughly enjoyable cookies and at 107 calories per large cookie, not too hard on the diet. However, I do think that the oily residue it leaves may be quite off-putting for some people. It didn't bother me, and I would be happy to buy a tin of these for myself some day if guests fail to bring me another one as a hostess gift. ;-)

Temple of Heaven Gunpowder Green Tea

I've heard for years that the Chinese eat all sorts of weird things, and I've known for some of those years that things like 1,000 year old eggs aren't actually as nasty as they sound. Some other things, like bird's nest soup, are even worse than they may appear. FYI, 1,000 year-old eggs are preserved for a mere 100 days, which is somewhat less gross than those ten times older. Bird's nest soup, which sounds like some sort of crunchy Euell Gibbons bark-eating extravaganza that'll keep your bowels in working order, is made with a nest that is made with saliva, which is an incredibly disgusting notion.

Keeping in mind that oddly named Chinese food is an adventure, I found it hard to walk away from this box of "special gunpowder" green tea when I found it on the shelf of a middle eastern market for a mere $1.89. The market, if anyone is interested and in the area, is in Santa Clara, CA and is called "Zad Grocery". I mention it mainly because this is a very low price for this tea compared to what I found for it via online sellers. Amazon carries it for $5.69, but I'm guessing that ethnic groceries in various areas would offer a more competitive price just as Zad Grocery did for me.

When I bought this, I didn't really believe it was going to include gunpowder. Well, I sort of felt it might be. After all, bird's nest soup does include a spit-based bird's nest. Sometimes things are what they sound like. However, before I set the tea a steepin', I investigated it to see what the deal was and it is one of those things which has a name based on appearance rather than on ingredients. The tea leaves are rolled such that they resemble gunpowder. No actual gunpowder was to be ingested. Part of me was relieved. Part was disappointed. The latter part must be some sort of suicidal streak for which I should seek some sort of psychological intervention.

As for this tea, one thing I was careful about was the steeping time. I know from experience that over-steeping green tea of any sort can render it undrinkable. While overdoing black tea (English tea) can make it bitter and involve large lashings of milk to off-set the tannin overload, it completely kills green tea if you let it soak too long. I used a timer and watched the color and it seemed that around a minute and a half worked well for my tastes. It was strong enough for some distinct flavor, but not at a funkified state. Note that I used a tea ball infuser and only about half a teaspoon of tea leaves so there was plenty of room for them to bloom as it steeped. I also swished the infuser around several times during the steeping. The water was a shade below boiling.

I usually don't make hot tea in this sort of glass, but I had to use something clear to show the color. I risked burning my hand for my dubious "art". 

Note that I read awful reviews of this on Amazon from people who claimed that there was "dirt" in the tea. My guess is that they expected it to be like Japanese green tea which is, well, green. I've had "golden" green tea from Hong Kong before and it is actually brown. This tea is also brown. That's not because it's dirty or has dirt in it, but because that's rather a natural color for certain types of tea including black teas. You'd think people would be a little less freaked out by brown tea after years of Tetley and Lipton in their cups, but I guess they took the "green tea" part literally (though I'm guessing they didn't get nearly so worked up that it wasn't a box full of gunpowder and that that was not something they took literally).

 The smell and taste of the tea reminded me strongly of oolong tea. It had just a hint of chlorophyll which moved it a notch closer to Japanese green tea, but it's such a vague whisper that I may even have imagined it. This is a very serviceable tea for those who like it straight and with a vague almost "roasted" flavor and earthy highlights. I've heard that oolong tea is made by allowing the leaves to wither on the vine a bit, and I think that is what separates it from Japanese green tea.

I wouldn't say this is the most incredible tea I have ever had, but it is tasty and suits one on a cool autumn evening or a cold winter night. I imagine it'd be just as good or possible better served cold in summer. If you can get it economically, as I did, it's absolutely worth a try. I'm not sure I'd pay more for it than oolong tea, but I wouldn't mind always having a box around for when the mood strikes me, and I'm guessing drinking it may have some health benefits as well. Besides, having a box of it on your shelf is sure to be a conversation starter for those evenings when you're entertaining boring guests or relatives.