Want Want Salad Sembei

Don't let the title of this post fool you into thinking I had double desire for these sembei. That's simply the name of the brand. It is actually quite familiar to me with it's logo of an excited young man in what appears to be an old-style professional wrestlers costume. I never saw this brand in Japan, but this particular sembei (that means "rice crackers", to those out there who are uninitiated in this lingo) is the product of an allegiance between a Japanese and a Chinese company.

The Japanese end of this alliance, which I recognize based on one corporate logo shaking hands with the other on the back of the pack, is Iwatsuka Seika. I reviewed quite a few of their sembei when I was living in Japan, and figured that seeing what the deal is with these was worth a dollar (90 yen). That's all I paid for them at Daiso Japan. That makes them cheaper than similar crackers in Japan. Unless they are the worst sembei ever (and even bad sembei tends to be pretty decent), they were almost certainly going to be worth a buck.

Before I get too far, I have to say that I wonder what the deal is with these. Iwatsuka already has its own line of crackers. Why would they produce these in cooperation with a Chinese company? The obvious answer is that making these in China is a lot cheaper than making them in Japan, but they have to keep the name of a Japanese company on them in order to waive away the food safety boogeyman that haunts every Japanese food consumer. That illustration of hands shaking is an assurance that a reputable Japanese company has the backs of the Japanese people. They're probably sending armies of managers to the factories and they're frowning in concentration as they oversea the underpaid foreign labor. Of course, I don't know if this is true, and you absolutely should not take my word for it, except for the boogeyman part. That's absolutely a fact.

Personally, I don't care where these were made or who made them. I only care about how they taste and play out in terms of texture. If they're crispy and light and enjoyably savory, it's not my problem if hundreds of managers from Iwatsuka develop permanent frown lines on their brows and around their mouths.

Incidentally, I have no idea why these are called "salad", but this flavor name is common in Japan. I've heard that it refers to salad oil, but I have no way of knowing if that is correct. It doesn't taste anything like any sort of salad, and the ingredients list does not include typical flavoring agents for any sort of salad I've ever had. It does include MSG, and rosemary extract as well as salt and pepper. There are other generic flavorings listed, and soy sauce is probably in there, but the truth is that these are not powerfully flavored rice crackers.

Not everything has to be powerful to be enjoyable, however. These carry the standard "baked rice" flavor as well as possess an crispy lightness. The flavor is extremely mild and what the Japanese and food snobs call "umami". It is rather generically savory as all of the included flavors merge into a melange which provides a clean and uncomplicated flavor profile. The crackers are wrapped individually as 2-packs and each is about 35 calories.

In the U.S., there are plenty of plain potato chips and someone must love them. I'm guessing that salad sembei is the equivalent of such chips in Japan. I liked these, but I didn't "love" them. They certainly filled the bill for a salty snack and especially did well toward taking me back to the flavors I associate with living in Japan. For the price, and sembei can be very expensive in the U.S., I'd be very happy to pick a bag of these up occasionally again.

Iwatsuka Soy Sauce and Nori Sembei

Readers who follow the trends of what I review may have noticed that there was a time when I was reviewing pretty much one type of rice cracker (sembei) a week and that lately the frequency of such reviews has dropped greatly. This isn't because I got far fewer comments on the sembei reviews than any other type or that I perceived that they were of the lowest interest to most of my readers, though frankly I believe that is true. It is because I'd pretty much sampled most of what I wanted to and wasn't going to start buying things of dubious interest (particularly shrimp-flavored crackers) for the sake of keeping up the appearance of having an interest in sembei. I'm not a sembei poser, after all.

The only reason this is being reviewed is that it was included in the supermarket fukubukuro that I bought. This isn't the sort of thing I tend to gravitate toward though I also won't recoil from it in horror. The little flecks of nori (seaweed paper) tend to turn me off. It isn't because I hate seaweed, but rather because it can be too strong a flavor and I'm not that great a fan of the sense that I'm gnawing on chlorophyll. Since you can never predict how intense the grassiness is going to be when you have a snack with seaweed, it's easier just to pass, especially when the choice is to buy such a big bag.

It turns out that these are actually pretty mild on the seweed and have a nice savory flavor influenced mainly by soy sauce, but also by bonito (which is used for Japanese fish soup stock). None of the flavors are pronounced or individual but they tend to all come together in one mild savory mix which isn't too grassy, fishy, or salty. There are 14 two-packs in this big bag, and two crackers are 46 calories. This makes them an excellent option for a quick salty snack treat.

I was surprised that I liked these as much as I did, and I'd certainly consider getting them again. The main problem for me is that these types of "traditionally" flavored rice crackers carry a particular scent that my husband finds very off-putting so I can only eat them when he's not around. If your mate doesn't mind such things, I'd say give these a try. Since I got mine as part of my New Year's grab bag, I can't say for certain what the price is, but I'd guess they are between 180-240 yen per bag and can be had at a supermarket.

Iwatsuka Shirabe Sembei

Recently, I did an interview with a young woman who needed to talk to an established blogger for part of a senior project at university and I used the word "sembei" with her assuming that she'd know what it meant. I thought that sembei (or "rice cracker" in English) was one of those Japanese words like "sushi" or "karaoke" that had infiltrated American culture such that its meaning was known. Reading food sites that love to toss around a much more esoteric Japanese word, umami (savory or meaty), has perhaps mislead me into thinking Japanese food vocabulary is more pervasive than it really is. The fact that sembei is not a household word back home was brought home by the fact that my friend Shawn also did not know what it mean, and he reads cooking blogs.

That was a bit of a lesson for me in not assuming the words I toss around are going to be understood by everyone and that I need to take care to explain in English for new, infrequent, or selective readers. I don't want to appear to be one of those people who blithely tosses out words in Japanese to show off my language skills (which frankly are not worth any sort of showy display, believe me) or assuming everyone operates from the same experiences as me.


Getting back to the topic at hand, which is this Iwatsuka sembei. This was the second bag of rice crackers that I opted to sample when I found a sale going on at Okashi no Machioka. That sale was two bags for 250 yen. I chose this not knowing what "shirabe" was. In fact, after quite a bit of searching, I still don't know what it is. I can say that the ingredients listed for this are: Non-glutinous rice, vegetable oil, sugar, starch, glucose, soy sauce powder, salt, seasoning and, caramel coloring. Incidentally, the company that made this, Iwatsuka Seika, started out as a manufacturer of caramel syrup starch.

I can also say that "shirabe" in Japanese appears to have several different meanings based on my fruitless searches. It is a type of drum. It also seems to be some sort of pervy porn comic book (manga) name as I kept turning up the same result which showed some barely dressed woman displaying her backside. If someone knows the food-related meaning of "shirabe", I'd appreciate a word in the comments.

One thing I did come across again and again in my searches was the fact that many Japanese bloggers mentioned this sembei in the same breath as the "Happy Turn" sembei which I reviewed previously. This sembei has a similar vinegar-like flavor, though it seems coupled more prominently with a somewhat fishy flavor. It's also a salty and sweet mixture with the sweetness hitting your tongue at the end.

These are very good, though I think I liked the Happy Turn 200% better for its more intense flavor. That being said, these were excellent value with 36 crackers (18 packs of 2) for only 125 yen ($1.40). The crackers are on the smallish side at about 6 cm x 3.5 cm (2.3 in. x 1.4 in.), but one packet is enough for a satisfying little nibble or to fulfill a crispy, salty snack craving. They're only 31 calories per packet as well so they're a pretty low calorie salty treat. I'd definitely buy them again, particularly if I found them on sale.

Though Iwatsuka's main line of products is more family and adult oriented, they do have a cutesy mascot (a pink bear?) that you can download some pdf files for including stationary and a papercraft envelope, a calendar, postcard designs, and desktop pictures.

Iwatsuka Soft Mochi Rice Snack

I think someone needs to start a Japanese food blog, preferably one about fast food or frozen food, that is called "There's Corn On My Pizza." Someone else should start one called "Sembei Adventures" and focus on rice crackers. Heaven knows there are more than enough varieties of sembei around to devote an entire blog to them and I just don't have what it takes to do that particular job. My husband hates the smell of sembei so I can't even eat it when he's around without causing offense.

While my husband was at work, I sampled this puffy mochi sembei that is studded with bits of roasted soybean. I've been seeing it in various incarnations for quite some time. Sometimes these puffed up crackers are coated with kinako, but more often than not they have black or brown fragments of soy beans in them. This is called "soft" sembei because it's airy inside rather than crispy and brittle.

I found these at Okashi no Machioka sweets shop. They were on sale, 2 bags for 250 yen ($2.74). You could buy two of a favorite or pair one variety with any of a variety of Iwatsuka Seika's sembei. Most of these types of bags are 178 yen ($1.95), so that's a discount of about 53 yen (53 cents) a bag. I chose this and what appears to be a sweet variety because the other types were familiar or shrimp-flavored. It's pretty good value for 15 crackers.


Since this was my first experience with this particular variety of sembei, I was surprised that it smelled like popcorn and peanuts. In fact, the little packets that these come in mustn't be sealed very well because the entire bag smelled strongly before I even breached the individual packets. The texture is a cross between Styrofoam packing peanuts and popcorn. It's a little strange, honestly. Biting through the outer part which is slightly firm and crispy is fine, but the middle is weird. The flavor is also a bit like popcorn, albeit with more of a rice-like hint mixed with roasted soybeans.

I ate two of these and enjoyed the second one more than the first. They're decent enough, but I prefer "hard" sembei which is crispier, more cracker-like, and also more flavorful. These would be more appealing to me if they were more savory, or even just saltier. All that air does mean each 6.5 cm x 3 cm (2.6 in. x 1.2 in.) cracker is only 26 calories, but even that isn't enough to make me want to buy them again. It's not that they're bad at all, and I'll surely finish the bag, but simply that they weren't flavorful enough for me and I didn't like the texture.

Iwatsuka Kinako Sembei

I've been perusing the sembei aisles with an increasing sense of boredom as of late. Given my hatred of shrimp, I find a lot of the rice crackers that I haven't yet sampled increasingly unappealing. Fortunately, Iwatsuka Seika, the same company that made the smoked potato cheese cracker pellets I reviewed before, put out some kinako sembei and I'm a sucker for all things kinako.


If the fact that these are kinako wasn't appealing enough, being 15 calories per cracker upped the appeal. Unfortunately, being low calorie only helps if you don't feel inclined to gobble down half the 24-piece bag in one sitting. I regained control after 4 pieces, but that was still more than I felt I should be eating at once.

For the umpteenth time, I will remind everyone that kinako is toasted soy flour with a nutty, almost peanut butter-like taste. It's not for everyone, but it's one of the more approachable flavors among various common Japanese seasonings. These smell like kinako, of course, and are generously dusted on the outside with a layer of seasoning that includes cinnamon. There's a hint of sweetness and a vague suggestion of salt.

One negative point about these is that they're rather messy because the seasoning is applied so thickly. The bits of seasoning tend to just fall off as soon as you open the packet. Also, they're wrapped in paper wrappers which I'm sure aren't going to protect them well from going stale. Fortunately, I expect to gobble up the whole bag soon enough so there's little danger that they'll have time to go stale.

Cheese Potato Otsumame Arare

I was drawn to this snack by the picture of the baked potatoes covered in gooey cheese. While I wasn't entirely fooled into thinking that a bunch of little pellets flavored with whey and cheese powders was going to fill my mouth with the flavor of cheesy baked potato, I figured I'd see how close this came. Incidentally, this is another one of those snacks which is designed specifically to be consumed with alcoholic beverages (otsumame). There is an endless parade of them in Japan.


"Arare" means "hail" in Japanese. It's used in reference to food to indicate that something is being produced in little pellet-like pieces. I guess this is supposed to make them easier to eat when you're too drunk to bite off bits of a potato chip without having it crumble into your lap, or your beer glass. Japanese snack manufacturers are so considerate.


The bag is full of small pouches of what are essentially sembei (rice cracker) pellets and peanuts. Each pouch is 12 grams (.4 oz.) and contains a very small portion of peanuts and tiny cracker bits. The amount pictured above is the entire content of one little triangular packet. This portion contains 63 calories, which seems like a lot for such a tiny amount. The peanuts are average in size and comparing them to the sembei gives you a good idea of how small the pellets are. The entire bag cost about 170 yen, or about $1.60 or so in U.S. dollars.

Despite the fact that potatoes are on the cover, glutinous rice is the first ingredient, followed by peanuts. "Potato powder" and smoke flavoring are added in addition to cheese powder, yeast extract, and other seasonings. The smokey flavor is what hits you the most when you bite into these. It's somewhat surprising that they don't smell like much of anything given how intense the smoke flavor is. After the first nibble, the smoke flavor gives way to more of a cheesy bite. The peanuts are blanched so they aren't too intense. It's a nice mix. The texture is pleasantly crunchy.

I liked these, but I'm a bit dissatisfied with the wastefulness that comes along with putting nine tiny plastic packages in the bag. I'm all for portion control, but this is such a small amount that I have the sense that they are more for handing out at parties than for personal snacking. I imagine most people would want just a little more than what is in one package. I'd consider buying these again if I were in the right mood or if I wanted to exercise extremely judicious control of my eating.