Astor Skinny Roll (Peanut Butter)

I wonder if naming your product "skinny" improves sales because it leads consumers to believe that you will lose weight by eating it. In the case of these snacks, which are only 19 calories per roll, there's not much chance that you'll get skinny unless you exercise the most judicious of portion control.

Note the one-eyed mascot on the cover. His physique is not only quite rounded, but he also seems to have gained a Miley-Cyrus-like tongue control issue. I guess it must be some sort of issue that musicians suffer from. Too much music or singing must cause some sort of tongue muscle flabbiness tha results in unpleasant lolling on occasion.

This snack comes from Indonesia and is made by a company called Astor and distributed by Mayora Inc. In addition to these snacks, they also distribute the ever present Kopiko coffee candies. They also have some very spiffy-looking wafer snakcs called "Zuperr Keju" and "Beng-Beng". With such awesome names, how can they go wrong?

When I received these "Skinny Roll" snacks as part of a package of goodies from KS Snacks, I expected something similar to "Pepero". That's the Korean pretzel roll snack that is like an inside out Pocky stick which left me less than impressed. It turns out that I was very wrong about what I was getting and in the best possible way.

For starters, the sticks are not pretzels. They are wafer rolls similar to Pirouhette cookies. They are delicate and crispy. Though they don't add much to the flavor except for the mildest of sugar-cookie-style flavor, the filling happily does all of the heavy lifting in that regard. Though it looks a lot like a hollow tube, it's actually lined with a sweet, peanut-cream-like filling that carries just the right level of sweetness without being cloying and enough peanut power to leave you happy without being heavy or overbearing.

This is, by far, one of the best "finds" I've had since returning to America. It's damn tasty with an excellent texture. KS Snacks is offering them on their web site and I strongly recommend that anyone who is a peanut fan give them a try.

Yuki & Love Japanese Style Peanut Mochi

Have you ever wondered which part of an Oreo cookie makes the cookie better? Is it the slightly bitter, not terribly sweet and crispy outer cookie or the creamy, sweet death-mush in the center. If eating habits are any indication, that is, our tendency to mush together two cookies divorced of one half of their outer cookie sandwich, then the filling is the star of the show. That being said, in Japan, they used to sell only the outer cookie sans the sugary goo. Tastes are relative, after all.

When thinking about mochi treats, one can ask the same question, though I'm figuring those that are not aficionados of Japanese traditional sweets would say, "neither". Those who are connoisseurs would likely say, "both." As someone who just buys snacks for a living, I'm definitely saying the proof is in the rice cake (mochi) and that a substandard mochi experience will make or break the experience. 

The peanut filling of this is lightly sweet, dense, and pretty fatty. The texture is rich, but it's a little kludgy, like "natural" peanut butter before it has been stirred (though not quite that bad). The mochi is where things fall apart. It's actually nicely balanced in terms of taste and lends a sweetness from the rice cake having been infused with a bit of sugar and a nuttiness due to the powder on the exterior. The place where it all goes wrong is the mochi's texture.

The first time I tried a "Yuki & Love" Japanese style mochi, I loved it. It was soft and tasty with a delicate taro (like a potato, only, not) filling. I was so excited that I was dying to try another flavor and scooped up boxes of other varieties when I found them on sale. The second time was a more so-so experience, but that was largely due to the weirdness of the brown sugar flavor in that one. This time, the mochi was just crummy. It was too thick and rubbery, like chewy on the eraser on the end of a number 2 pencil. I don't know if this was old or if they just did a bad job on this particular one, but it really ruined the experience. Despite being quite good with the flavor (and being an enormous fan of all things peanut butter), I didn't finish the box. I kept going back and trying them, even microwaving them to soften the thick exterior, but it didn't help. I ended up throwing out half of the box because they just weren't worth the 130 calories per rubbery lump.

I hope this was a "bad batch", but I'm unlikely to try this variety again. I'm not giving up on the brand and will try another, but if it doesn't get better after the next sampling, I'll be saying goodbye to "Yuki & Love", or at least their Japanese style mochi offerings.

Random Picture #125

Photo courtesy of BlogD (used with permission).

The "Cream Clan" sounds like the less threatening cousin to the KKK. Where one hurts minorities and espouses white supremacy, the other simply plies you with hydrogenated fats and waits for your arteries to slowly clog up. Instead of burning crosses on lawns, they'd probably dump bags of sugar in the hopes of attracting carpenter ants to your property and slowly taking down your house. The members of the Cream Clan would be far more patient about how they destroy their enemies (and those enemies would be those freaks out there who eschew junk food and eat whole food and fresh fruit and vegetables).

This shot from a convenience store (taken very recently by my brother-in-law who lives in Japan) features a peanut cream cookie and an, obvious, Oreo knock-off. If I were in Japan at this moment, I'd do what he did and take a picture of the funny name and possibly buy the peanut one. My expectation would be that it would not be very good, but since there is so little in the way of peanut butter sweets, I'd toss my 100 yen ($1.27) into the cash register with minimal hopes that something good might come of it.

Baboon Marzipan Peanut Butter Candy

I think this post should more properly be titled "de la Rosa" marzipan candy, but I couldn't resist using the Baboon distributor name. In fact, I bought a bigger bag of these simply because of that name. There were actually smaller portions available from another distributor, but, you know, "baboon" is too cool a word. Adding monkeys to anything makes them better. Just ask NASA.

This is actually my second purchase of this candy. I first sampled it when I was spending some time in the San Juan Islands just after leaving Japan. It was distributed there with a pretty generic looking name (same de la Rosa candies inside the packet though) in a section with bagged spices and other Mexican foods. Oddly, despite the fact that most things on the island I was on were more expensive due to their having to be flown or ferried in, this was cheaper there than it was here in California. I paid $2.79 (218 yen) for a package of 7 at Chavez Mexican Market. I think I paid about a dollar for 4 of them on Lopez Island. Go figure. That's a difference of 40 cents (31 yen) per candy vs. about 25 cents (20 yen). My guess is that they're paying big royalties for the use of the whole baboon moniker. Those brand names don't come cheap! Just ask NASA.

Incidentally, candy sellers sell these online through many avenues, and I see them all over the west coast, but they may not be so easy to find in other areas. Amazon offers a huge amount of them. Mexgrocer will let you buy far fewer. 

I didn't really photograph it badly. It's not very photogenic candy.

When I sampled this in Lopez, I was in love. It had everything I adored going for it. It's peanut butter. It's got bits of nuts. It's sweet and has a fatty texture. This is like a crumbly version of peanut butter amped up to "11" on the sweetness scale. When I say "crumbly", I mean it. It is virtually impossible to free a disc of this from its plastic prison without it disintegrating all over the place. It's best eaten from a bowl or plate, or with a spoon. Or you could try to up end the whole thing at once into your mouth and put your sweetness taste buds into shock. I wouldn't advise it though as that may send you into some sort of sugar shock. 

The truth is though that I was less thrilled with this on my second purchase than on my first. Perhaps it was the novelty of something so thoroughly un-Japanese so soon after having so many Japanese things. It also could have been the fact that I was denied peanut butter sweets for so long that this was like a dive into sweet, sweet home. Perhaps I was in a head space where super sweet food sounded more appealing at that time. I found this hard to resist the first time I bought it. Now, well, it's lasting a bit longer.

I enjoyed this, but I think that it's for those who want a particular nibble at a particular time rather than as a "any time" sort of treat. It's good, no doubt, but I think that it went over better after long-term deprivation. Some sweets are for "everyday" and some are best enjoyed in a vacuum... say, after spending 23 years in a country which has neither marzipan nor peanut butter candies, or after spending several months in space. Just ask NASA.

Sonton Peanut Cream

The review of this particular product is offered as a public service. Before I purchased this, I already knew what I was buying and I knew that I would sample it, review it, and never ever eat the rest. The reason this service is necessary is to warn any number of countless unsuspecting foreigners from making the mistake so many of us have made before. That is, they see a carton of peanut cream and figure that this is the Japanese version of "peanut butter." There should be big red warning signs in front of "peanut cream" that flash "NOT PEANUT BUTTER!"

So, that being said, I am pleased to introduce you to a product that puts the lie to the assertion that Americans love everything sweeter than the Japanese do. This is little more than peanut frosting in a bizarre glossy, semi-translucent presentation. The texture isn't creamy, but rather sort of like eerily suspended gelatin which is cold and rather like what you'd expect thick brown mucous (sorry) to be like.

The ingredients list may reveal what is going on with the texture. The first thing it mentions is "peanuts paste" followed in parentheses by "flour paste". The first ingredient is sugar water (probably the equivalent of high fructose corn syrup but made with grapes instead of corn), followed by flour, then peanut butter. This is pretty much peanut butter mixed with a fructose-based syrup and flour. As an ardent fan of peanut butter, I believe they have tampered with perfection to create this abomination.

The texture is really unfortunate because the truth is that this has a fantastic peanut smell and a good peanut flavor. In fact, this could be given a favorable rating if it were not so incredibly cloyingly sweet. You know those over-used dumb jokes about eating something so full of sugar that it gives you diabetes after one bite? This stuff brings those jokes to mind and makes me think, nay, fear, that there may be some truth behind them.

Ultimately, whether or not you're going to like this is a matter of personal taste and experience. Most people who grew up with peanut butter (especially natural types) are going to find this pretty hard to tolerate and anyone who is sensitive to super sweet foods is going to gag on it. This is best applied sparingly to something quite bland. I had it on a bit of a saltine, and it wasn't bad at all, but I'd just as soon have real peanut butter without all of the sugar and textural strangeness.

If you're inclined to buy this, you can find it at most supermarkets for about 180 yen ($2.14). One of the reasons that foreigners may gravitate toward it when they don't know any better is that real peanut butter is generally only available as an expensive import. Small (about 1 cup) jars of Skippy sell for 400-500 yen ($4.76-$5.94), so if you see what looks like a domestic brand for less than half the price, you may be inclined to sample it and be in for a big disappointment. 

Incidentally, the maker of this peanut cream, Sonton, offers a variety of other spreads including a chocolate one and some "whip" versions of peanut butter, black sesame and chocolate as well as jams. The whip versions are in clear containers and are mixed with fat. I've had those on rare occasions before and they are actually not so bad because, while they are sweet, they are lighter and have a pleasant texture. If you want to go for a sweet peanut or chocolate spread, I'd recommend the whips over these flour and sugar water types.

Marui Suzuki Macarons

One of the interesting things about living in Tokyo is that every shop seems to open up new food vistas. I have 4 major supermarkets (Seiyu, Inageya, Peacock, Queen's Isetan), 2 green grocers (Takano and Yutakaraya) and a multitude of convenience stores and 99 yen shops (no fewer than a dozen) in walking distance of my home. You'd think these would cover all of the bases, but, no, there are still products that I never see unless I got far and wide.

My husband and I grabbed a bus to Don Quixote, a quasi-megastore with more junk than I've seen in one place since leaving the U.S. They had a lot of imports as well as Japanese items that I'd never seen before. I found a tasty 7-cheese frozen pizza there which I wish I could get nearby and the macarons that I'm reviewing today. I bought the macarons on a whim because I wanted to compare them to real French macarons, which are presently all the rage in Japan. I paid 198 yen ($2.20) for a 220 gram (7.8

oz.) bag.

These are produced by a company called Marui Suzuki, and I was surprised that they had a web site since the bland packaging on the cookies is often an indication that a small company with no image or web presence is behind them. Truth be known, my expectations of these cookies was so low that I didn't expect to bother to review them at all (hence the reason the picture is of an open bag). The company makes, distributes or markets a vast number of Japanese snacks from chocolates to youkan to manju to cakes and cookies. There aren't too many pies that they don't have their fingers stuck in. Their selection is so vast that I couldn't find a page for this product in particular, but it doesn't really matter since there is minimal product information on the site anyway.

It turns out that the Japanese means to say "macaroon" rather than "macaron", and that turned out to be okay. This is a failure of the ability to translate foreign sounds directly into Japanese written language. These cookies are like Italian amaretti. That is, they are crispy, sweet, light little cookies with a base consisting of egg whites, nuts, and sugar. The first ingredient is peanuts followed by sugar, flour, and eggs. There is also a generic listing of "flavoring", but I'm guessing that may be something like vanilla. What these taste like is peanut butter.

I adored these because I love both amaretti and peanut butter. The texture is a delight and I wouldn't hesitate to recommend these to someone who likes crispy, meringue-like cookies. I only wish that calorie information were provided so I'd know how much trouble I'm getting into when I eat these tiny (about the circumference of a quarter or hundred-yen coin) cookies.

Peanut Cream Mochi Choco

When you first start shopping at grocery shops in Japan, your inclination is to seek out the familiar amongst the plethora of incomprehensible items. You don't do this because you are conservative about eating new things, but rather because you can't read a thing and don't want to end up buying something that is inedible. After all, it wouldn't do to pick up what you think is a can of tuna and find out it's really cat food.

When it comes to various sandwich spreads, there are shelves full of jams and jellies which are easy to identify. Occasionally, you'll find the odd jar of Skippy peanut butter, but it's more common to find paper containers of something called "peanut cream". Since it has pictures of peanuts on it and it's with the jelly and jam, it's natural to conclude that this is Japanese peanut butter. It's a mistake to reach such a conclusion. Peanut cream is a strange, glossy, rather sweet concoction which is the ugly, unpleasant cousin of peanut butter. It's no wonder that it's not very popular in Japan. I sent a carton of it to one of my friends in the U.S. to sample and he thought it was pretty disgusting, and I wouldn't call him a very fussy eater as long as the food is free.


My husband found the box of peanut cream mochi pictured at the top of this post at a 99 yen shop and we decided to give it a try despite the inherent danger of consuming anything which showcases the vile peanut cream. Our faith in the quality of the product should be enhanced by the statement (in English) which says, "Fashioned in a homemade style by a superb chef. Enjoy with tea or moments of relaxation!" There are 5 individually wrapped patties per box, each about 2 inches/5 cm. in diameter, for 99 yen (98 cents) so I doubt many superb chefs are on staff formulating these and it's hard to believe their claim.


The Japanese on the box promises "moist mochi with peanut", though when you open a packet, you mainly smell cheap chocolate with no dairy notes. When I cut open a patty, I could smell peanut butter. Mochi has little or no taste and mainly provides texture. To their credit, the mochi is moist and slightly chewy. It provides a marshmallow like texture, though it's not nearly as spongy and is not sweet. The chocolate on the outside is very thin and cracks easily. It's slightly bittersweet and rather flat and dull flavor wise. Surprisingly, the peanut filling is like super soft peanut butter and not peanut cream. The chocolate is cool on the tongue and does not melt in your mouth. It cracks apart. It's surprisingly enjoyable for such a cheaply made treat. The chocolate is substandard, but the peanut filling and mochi steal the show. Perhaps it's just as well that the chocolate is crappy because it allows the other ingredients to shine through more brightly. Each patty has 64 calories, 1.2 grams of fat, and 13.2 carbs. The main ingredients are maltose, sugar, mochi, starch, vegetable oil, and peanut cream. I'm guessing there are a lot of bad fats in it.

These are made by a company called H&H trading which has no online presence or company information. I've never seen these for sale anywhere other than the local 99 yen shop, so I wonder if they're not the sort of thing one could track down and are just something you find by fortunate happenstance. After these sold out, they were not restocked so I haven't seen them again. However, they're worth a sample if you stumble across a box.