Aya Usagi White Bean Cakes

One of the big differences between my blogging in Japan about Japanese food as compared to doing so in the U.S. is that it costs me at least 50% more. This sucks, but, as someone accustomed to paying at least 50% more for imported food when I lived in Japan, it's something I'm quite accustomed to.

The other difference is that I feel more like I have to ration my treats because I can't get them as cheaply or easily as I once did. This is one of the reasons that I haven't hoovered up my stack of manju from Nippon-ya like an anteater that has a mental health disorder. I imagine that, for anteaters, having a vacuum cleaner complex is probably similar to having a Napoleon complex among humans. I am all powerful! All ants will be consumed through my magnificence protuberance like Dorothy during a Kansas tornado!

I'm sure nobody comes to my blog to hear me inhabit the reality of anteaters with mental health challenges - well, maybe a few bodies do - so I will get on with talking about bean cakes. I waited until well past the point of reason to eat the last one and savored every little morsel. Unfortunately, though these were quite fresh when I opened the box, holding out on the last one until after the box had been opened for nearly a month meant the last one was a bit stale. This isn't any sort of indictment of the cakes because they held out for a long, long time. However, I do recommend you eat them within three weeks of opening the box. The oxygen absorber can only do so much.

This was, by far, my very favorite of my haul from Nippon-ya. The cakes themselves (when not well-aged)  have a soft, thin, cake covering a good portion of white beans that are generously sweetened, but not cloying. They have a lovely flavor which brings to mind butter, vanilla, and yellow cake, but doesn't really fit any of those descriptions. Sometimes, these types of cakes are a bit bland and mushy, but this definitely has a flavor profile. It's not incredibly deep as it tends to be just that indescribable flavor and sugar, but it's very satisfying.

The beans in these have a slightly fudgey texture to them, especially when they're fresher and moister than my antiquated final cake. I'm guessing this is delivered courtesy of the white adzuki and kidney beans as well as the multiple sugars (as sugar adds moisture)

Where I bought it: Nippon-ya (San Francisco)

Weight: 11.6 oz.

Price: I don't recall exactly, but I think it was $12.95.

Osaka Sikasen Mochi Assort

Nippon-ya did a survey and this box of sweets was their most popular. I can see why that is the case if only based on the packaging. It has beautiful wrapping and wrappers. The fact that I even think about things like that shows just how much I became affected by the culture of style over substance while living in Japan. I was once like you, dear reader, and felt that this sort of business that makes things look pretty was wasteful. What really matters is what is inside, right? Right?

I don't know if Japan changed me or if age did, but I really was excited to try these based on the variety of content as well as the packaging. The main difference between what I bought in Japan and these are that they are very, very small. In fact, I was stunned at how tiny they are as they are about half the size of what I'd get in Japan.

If nothing else, the packages are fairly descriptive of the contents so you don't have the same problem you have when deciding which chocolates have whatever filling in a box of candy in the U.S.

Anko (red bean paste):

This is the most old-fashioned of options for mochi so I didn't expect it to have an aroma, and it did not.  It's a classic pairing of flavorless, chewy mochi with red bean paste in the middle. Since these are small sweets, it's a little hard to know for sure, but I think this has tsubu an or coarse ("pebbly") bean paste in the middle. The mochi is nice and chewy and the powder on the outside makes it sweet before you taste the filling. The filling is earthy and slightly grainy. I noticed the "chew" on the mochi on this one was a bit tougher, but not in a bad way. It is just a bit thicker and less fine than in some other sweets. I liked this in the way that I like Reese's peanut butter cups. It's a classic, old-fashioned combo that hits familiar notes.

Shiro an (white bean paste):

This one was very similar to the anko one except the filling is finer, slightly sweeter, and less earthy. The "beany" nature just whispers at you rather than announces itself firmly and definitively. This is more of a textural pleasure than anything else. I love the feeling of the bean paste on my tongue and the chew of the mochi. However, this was definitely the least impressive flavor-wise of the bunch.

Sakura:

It's hard to believe that the Japanese don't use artificial colors when you see something like this sakura mochi. It's a bordering on radioactive pink. It's the kind of thing that even the most twee princess might find a bit much for her tastes. Nonetheless, I hear you can do marvelous things with beet juice, and perhaps that, rather than fallout from Fukushima, is responsible for the coloration.

The first thing I did was give this a whiff expecting it to smell heavily of "cherry blossom". It didn't smell like anything, surprisingly. The flavor, on the other hand, was very intense. It was quite sweet and very floral. In fact, the taste bordered on "soapy." I'm betting it wasn't even all that sweet, but that cloying flavor upped the sense of it being more sugary than it was. Sakura isn't generally my favorite, but I did enjoy the Sakura Harajuku mochi. This was okay, but definitely hit more of the notes that make sakura something I tend not to seek out.

Sesame:

This was the only mochi with a scent. In fact, as soon as I cut open the package, I smelled the sesame seeds. It smells awesome and the seeds lend a wonderful nutty flavor to the sweet. It also gives it a nice crunchy exterior. The first bite was completely overwhelmed by the sesame flavor, but the second brought out the beans. This was far and away my favorite of the group, though I can't say that I disliked any of them.

In terms of this assortment, the main point that I noticed is that the Harajuku Mochi was softer and fresher in feel, or made differently. These had a more elastic chew. I'm inclined to believe that they are just a differently made mochi because they seemed quite fresh. Mochi that is going stale tends to get a bit hard and these were in no way hard, though one of them had a few cracks in the side (not from drying out, but from torsion).

I liked this, and I do not regret buying it at all. It's a solid group of old-fashioned flavor combinations, but I probably wouldn't order it again for several years. One of the things that I heard time and again while binge-watching "The Great British Bake-off" was that, if you do a classic, it has to be superb and perfect. These are solid, but they are not superb and perfect. That being said, since I hadn't had these types of sweets for a long time, I was really grateful to have them on hand for the duration of the box. It'll just take awhile for nostalgia to enter the equation again. I also think that these are close to ideal if you want to give someone a box of manju as a souvenir or gift.

Where I bought it: Nippon-ya (San Francisco)

Weight: 14.5 oz.

Price: I don't recall exactly, but I think it was $14.95

Hina no Sudachi (white bean cakes)

I think my faithful readers will find that little has changed since I last blogged. I'm still using a crummy little digital camera and struggling to get shots that are bright enough and in focus. I still write posts that are too long. I still try to be funny and fail a lot of the time, and I still making typing errors that make me look like I don't understand basic grammar and spelling and fail to proofread.

Getting back into this blog will be nostalgic for all of  us. And, I don't mean the good kind of nostalgia like opening Christmas gifts when you were a kid and it all seemed so magical and wondrous because you hadn't yet learned that the fat guy who left gifts, ate your cookies, and drank your milk was your dad (or mom). I mean the kind of nostalgia that comes from a bad Thanksgiving meal full of relatives with political views you don't share and who feel its their responsibility to convert you to either their religion or their atheism. Somehow though, you feel like you need to keep coming back anyway.

As I mentioned in my previous post, the first item I'll be reviewing is Hina no Sudachi. This is a "steamed bun with bean jam using egg yolk," according to the package. If the ingredients list is any indication of quantity, and in the U.S., the first ingredient is supposed to make up the largest amount, egg yolks are the top ingredient followed by white beans. Oddly, I didn't find the interior of the cake to be as yellow as I'd expect nor as yellow as the store displays show (that's a Facebook link and won't work unless you have an account - a Yelp one of lesser quality is here). That is okay because I'm less interested in the color than the taste.

I will note that my husband and I both have a great fondness for this particular type of sweet. That is, we love the white bean ones with the cake-like shells and continue to reminisce about the ones we bought regularly in Japan like Kamome no Tamgo and Koganei Imo. In fact, these are the only types of Japanese sweets my husband actually likes. He may tolerate others to a limited extent, but he is happy to eat these because the bean filling is finer and not especially "beany" compared to red bean (adzuki) types.

This cake didn't have a high bar to vault over though as neither of us expected it to surpass our favorites. We just expected it to be a solid white bean cake option, and, it was. The external cake was tender, but not too moist and didn't crack or crumble. When I tasted the shell alone, it seemed to have a buttery flavor (which has to be fake or my imagination).  It is quite thin and separates easily from the filling if you cut the cake in half as I did.

When you see the inside, it is exactly what you'd want it to be. That is, it is moist and holds together so it doesn't have the powdery, dessicated texture that some snacks do. I wouldn't recommend cutting it unless you're splitting it with someone as it's better to have an intact shell to hold the filling. If the filling falls out, it stays in a moist (but not too wet) lump so it's easy to pick up and put back in.

The bean filling is sweet, though not especially so by American standards, and has a flavor which is hard define, but is still appealing. It's more of a generic "baked goods" taste, but it does seem to have a bit of what could be vanilla. The ingredients include artificial flavors as well as beta carotene (natural coloring). Though it seems a bit buttery, it contains cottonseed and soybean oil, but no cow-based fats. It was in the spectrum of what you'd find in a sweet, baked item and not the least bit beany (as expected).

I will note that I wasn't sure if this product was produced only for the American market (which would be weird, but I never saw this in Japan), and I did have issues finding it online. However, it is actually a product of Hokkaido and I found a blog that referenced it as part of a souvenir multi-pack. There's also a pointless 16-second video of one here. So, it's definitely sold in Japan, but my guess is that it is regional enough to not be easily found in Tokyo.

As I was gearing up to do my research, as I did so often in the past, I realized that I have never used a Windows PC to write my blog posts before and had no idea how to swap to Japanese language. I'm still not sure how to use it as well as how I once did on my old Mac Mini, but I'll get used to it. I'm definitely rusty and hope to get back to my previous level of highly inadequate and pathetic Japanese input and usage rather than remain at my current level of confusion.

Information:

Where I bought it: Nippon-ya (San Francisco branch) - can be mail-ordered from them
Weight: 23.8 oz.
Price: $15

The big question I have to ask myself is whether or not I'd buy this again. The answer is that I would, but not every single time I order from Nippon-ya. It's tasty, but it's not out-of-the-ballpark amazing. It's also the heaviest box of sweets in my current crop so there is a premium attached to buying it as opposed to trying something new so I'd be likely to order this once in awhile rather than as a staple. That's in no way saying it's not worth it, but just recognizing that this doesn't rise to the same level as our other white bean cake favorites.

Usapyon Manju

There's this thing in America where the kids like this singer named Justin Bieber. I'm not sure what the appeal is because he looks like just another pretty boy teen idol to me, but his face is all over school supplies and he gets mentioned a lot here on the web. It's one of those things which I'll never really "get" because it's a corner of pop culture that I have no interest in exploring.

In Japan, similarly, there was a large swath of the pop culture that I knew nothing about and that was in anime. Had I followed it, I would have known what "usapyon" meant. I knew that "usagi" meant "rabbit". "Pyon", apparently, is the sound a rabbit makes in Japan. Animals make the same sounds in every country, but the way humans hear them varies. I looked this word up and there's a character in a cartoon that translates to something like "pretty cure" that is called "Usapyon". It's a stuffed bunny toy that comes to life for some reason every once in awhile. So, now, I understand why these bunny-shaped cakes are named "usapyon" instead of something like "usagi-ju" or the Japanese equivalent of "bunny bun".

I found these cakes at Mitsuwa Japanese market for $4.99. That is actually on the cheap side for bean cakes. They were on sale, which may mean that they won't be around for long or simply that I got a good deal the day that I was there. This brand of bean cake was one that I never encountered in Japan, but that's no shocker. There are myriads of little manufacturers and bakers who have limited market penetration and the chances that you'll encounter all of them or any particular one is pretty small. The same goes for the U.S., and I'm sure other countries.

I chose these not only because they were reduced in price, but also because they have white beans in them. It's actually somewhat challenging to find something which doesn't have red beans. The main difference is that the white ones are milder in flavor and lack the earthiness of the red ones. These carry more of the flavors of the other ingredients.

The bunny "ears" and "eyes" that you see are only on the plastic package. Once they are removed, the "bunny" is represented by bumps alone. Inside is somewhat soft, tender mashed bean that has been mixed with sugar and other flavors. One of the ingredients is condensed milk powder, which may be lending sweetness and richness. They have more of a sweet, floury, baked good sense to them. They remind me a bit of vanilla pancakes without the syrup. Though sweeter than a red bean cake, they are not as sweet as most cakes and cookies.

I really enjoyed these and would definitely buy them again. They brought back very positive memories of my time in Japan both in terms of the adorable form factor and the taste.

Tokyo Sumida River Bean Cake

One of the things you get from being outside of a culture and looking in is a perspective on how things seem to be. You get an overview which is not possible when looking from the inside out. Of course, there is also that other perspective, the one people have from being outside and never being inside or only have been so for a short time. That's the one that you get quite often about Japan and Japanese food. People think that perusing the imports at the local store or checking out the catalog at J-Box or other importers gives them a pretty good idea of how Japanese people must snack. The truth is that I think they prefer snacks like the topic of this post (bean cakes) and rice crackers (sembei) to most of the types of things foreign folks fixate on. I think they care far less about the latest weird Pepsi or KitKat than about a wad of bean jam encased in bread or cake and find our fascination with such things peculiar. They know those things don't taste good and are little more than novelties, mere blips in the flavor continuum meant to gather attention with a flash and die away. 

Of course, my blog indicates that the interest level of foreigners in these types of snacks is pretty low. In a Venn diagram of Japanese snacks, there is not so much overlap between what piques Japanese interest in food and what gets my blog hits from those who have the patience to read my prattle. Trust me though when I say that you'll make any Japanese person happier with something from this type of snack than a box of chocolates unless they recognize the name as having a high price tag. Even then, they may not necessarily enjoy eating it as much, but they will definitely appreciate that you spent a wad of bills just to get something with the word "Godiva" emblazoned on it. As an aside, I've had the best luck giving Japanese people See's candy. They tend to like it a bit better because it's not as sweet as other American chocolates. My husband has been known to buy nearly 30 boxes of various sizes to give as gifts to students during visits back home. He had a lot of students, and they often gave him gifts and that was his way of returning the favor. 

Getting back to the subject at hand, my husband and I first encountered these bean cakes at a traditional sweets shop in Kichijoji, home of one of the more popular areas for cherry blossom viewing (Inokashira Park) and a very popular place for middle-aged shoppers. If you go to the Wikipedia page, keep in mind that the picture there is misleading. I didn't even see it look like that during Christmas when lights are often put up. At any rate, we bought this based on being given a sample by the shop attendants so we knew what we were getting. The interior is a slightly powdery, yet still moist, clump of very finely strained white beans sweetened with sugar and margarine. It doesn't have a strong taste, but mainly lends texture as it nearly melts on the tongue and offers sweetness. The outside is a slightly chewy, but also slightly crispy shell which is dusted with cinnamon. The combination of textures and flavors is sublime. 

These reminded us a bit of one of our other heavy favorites in the Japanese bean cake arena, Koganei Imo. The difference is that the cinnamon flavor is more pronounced in these and the interior is a little drier because these are shelf stable and mass produced. They are also greatly more accessible as they are sold at a variety of shops and you can only get Koganei Imo from one generational shop that hand prepares them in Ningyocho. There's a list of the shops that carry these bean cakes here, though if you can't read Japanese at all, you'll have to apply Google's translation to read the names. The shop chain that carries these is called "Chidoriya" and they have shops in department stores and various Japanese-style "malls". 

Before leaving Japan, my husband and I wanted to buy a big box of these to take with us. We returned to Kichijoji two days before leaving only to find that that branch of Chidoriya had disappeared. We decided to track some down in Kita-Senju and picked up a dozen to take back. The expiration date on the box was short, but the truth is that we still have them and are still eating them. They don't seem to lose all that much even though we've had them for about two months now. As you might guess, with something we enjoy this much, we're rationing them and trying to make them last by refrigerating them.

If you go to Japan for a tourist stint or live there, I would strongly recommend tracking these down. At the very least, you can get a sample taste before you buy to see if you like them as much as we do. And if you go and carry some back to the states, bring a box for me, too. I'm pretty sure ours won't hold out a whole lot longer. ;-)

Kamome No Tamago

Since leaving Japan and becoming a woman of leisure (i.e., unemployed), I've been taking advantage of the time to do things which I lacked the free hours to do in Tokyo. One of those things is putting my hand to various types of food preparation which is time-consuming, yet the sort of thing which is either a basic skill I never learned, or a creative endeavor I never engaged in. For instance, I like cooking with beans, but I never prepared dry beans. I always bought canned ones. As a woman of a certain leisure (i.e., income-less), it struck me that it would be a good idea to finally learn how to cook dry beans because it saves material waste and is much more economical.

My first foray into a world that my parents and grandparents were already familiar with (i.e., super cheap cooking with the cheapest and most flatulence-inducing protein provider) was with a 1-pound (2.2 kg.) bag of black beans. I'm pleased to say that they cooked well despite it being my first attempt. Of course, it's not exactly rocket science. I just had to not be a total impatient dumb ass and keep the temperature down and stir the pot once in awhile. 

The end result of my foray into dry bean land (a great name for a theme park for those who require little to amuse themselves) was a plethora of cooked black beans. What better way to put them to use than to experiment with some recipes that are off the beaten path? I looked up one of the many recipes for cakes and brownies made with black beans and promptly made my first creation. This is it:

The response you tend to get to the idea of making sweets with beans is, "ewwww!" And, the first question people tend to ask when you make such things is, "does it taste like beans?" The answer is, "no, it tastes like cake." No matter how many assurances you offer the average Western consumer, they are unlikely to truly believe you until you get them to place a bite into their yobs and allow them to personally witness the lack of beaniness. 

Now, if you change the location of this situation to Japan and you are talking to a Japanese person, their response is "yum!" Well, more accurately, they will say, "oishii!" Because bean sweets are so common in Japan, they don't bat an eye at the notion that you can make a delightful treat with beans of all sorts. They've been living this reality for years, yet most Western folks are still giving you a look that says, "you're trying to get me to eat something good for me by wrapping it up in something that resembles something delicious, but you're not fooling anyone."

I asked my husband when I made the black bean cake if he would have been willing to sample it had he not had years of experience eating bean treats in Japan. He said that he was pretty sure that he would not. One of the gifts we received from our experiences with food there was an open-mindedness about food and what can and can't be used in certain dishes. The bean cake I'm reviewing today is one of the first ones that got my husband started on a profound love of such things, Kamome No Tamago (which means "sea gull's egg").

I consider this one of the "staple" consumer treats in Japan. I see them in most supermarkets year-round and they are relatively reasonably priced for a higher quality bean treat. They aren't the same as the fresh types that you can pick up at dedicated sweets shops, but they are very tasty and approachable to Western palates. Part of the reason for this is that the white bean filling is surrounded by a thin shell of soft, but firm cake coated in the thinnest layer of white chocolate. The center tastes of the stuff of cake, but is not overly sweet. The texture is moist, but not too heavy or dense. It would be unfair to say the center adds nothing to the flavor, but it also would be wrong to say it tastes like beans as Westerners tend to conceptualize them. They've been mashed into a near fudge-like texture and mixed with magic (sugar and margarine) to make them a textural and taste delight.

My husband and I usually bought our Kamome No Tamago for 525 yen ($6.56)  for a pack of 6 egg-size cakes at Inageya supermarket, but I saw them at many other shops. They weren't sold at convenience stores for the most part, but they were in many different types of grocery stores and department stores. During our years in Japan, we likely consumed well over a hundred of these bean cakes between us, possibly each. They're one of the things we decided to carry back to America with us with our limited luggage weight capacity. They are worth the weight in your pack, the yen in your wallet and the calories.

Sumo White Bean Cakes

My husband and I are sumo fans from our earliest days in Japan. In fact, that was how he learned a lot of his kanji (Chinese characters), and sumo characters are the ones I best recognize to this day. Though to non-sumo fans of any nationality (Japanese folks included), it may seem odd to find a couple of naked fat guys bumping into each other for about 20 seconds interesting as sport, I can promise you that it's far more sophisticated than it appears. It can't all be about overweight men slamming up against each other and emanating homoerotic undertones...

Actually, I'm not really one for making sumo jokes. In fact, I boycotted the Tokyo Metropolis magazine for nearly a decade for a horrible article on sumo written by someone who talked about "fat faggots" and generally displayed no understanding of the sport whatsoever. In the wake of so many scandals in sumo (fixed bouts or yaocho being the big one), it's hard to feel quite so strongly attached to it. Still, trust me when I say that it was once an incredible experience watching sumo. There were players whose skill and dignity were absolutely awesome, and I hope that one day there will be again.

I have been to Japan's national stadium (kokugikan) in Ryogoku many times to watch sumo bouts, but I haven't gone lately. My husband attended a tournament with some friends and I asked that he bring me back one things, a box of bean cakes. Being the dutiful husband that he is, he delivered. The box comes gift-wrapped, as these are intended mainly as a souvenir that people who attend a day of sumo bring back to share with those who didn't go with them. The box lid has a sumo ring (dohyo) motif and some cut out wrestlers and a referee inside so you can play after you enjoy your bean cake. Since these are souvenirs, there is no nutrition information about them on the box.

The cakes themselves are made by one of the many companies in Japan that have no real presence or image, but acts in the service mainly of providing products for more high profile clients. I've lost the packaging, but I did investigate their web site and they only offer products for sale at the Ryogoku Kokugikan in Tokyo, so, if you want these, you'll need to attend a tournament (which I recommend anyway) or ask someone who can attend one to pick you up a box (9 cakes for 2000 yen/$24.76), and, yes, you will want them to buy you one. These are terrific.

There are varieties of sweet bean "jam" in Japan, and the white kinds are finer and usually sweeter than the red ones. The flavor of these cakes quite sweet, but not cloyingly so, with a surprising and well-balanced taste of actual honey. The beans themselves mainly lend an almost fudgey texture and a nice heft, though you can taste them, too. Keep in mind that these beans don't taste like kidney beans, lima beans, etc. They aren't super "beany". So, don't be turned off by the presence of beans.

The outer shell is a soft but flexible cake which has a lovely baked smell. Sometimes white bean cakes are very dry and almost powdery, but there is none of that nonsense with these. I also personally believe these are a very "approachable" bean cake for Western palates. That is to say that the would not be considered too "weird" for fussy eaters who aren't open-minded about what they eat.

I wish I could offer an easier way to get your hands on these than to go to a day of sumo, but some things are pretty specialized. Since both are unique Japanese cultural experiences that I feel are worthwhile, I'd say time any trip to Tokyo such that you can see the sumo, and treat yourself to a box of these delicious cakes.

Crane's Village Marshmallow Eggs

If you don't pay attention to what you're buying in Japan, you can often end up buying the wrong thing. When my husband and I came across this package of egg-style treats for the mere price of 228 yen ($2.53) for 6 of them, we assumed we'd found a variation on the kamome no tamago (seagull's eggs bean cakes) that we both love.



Kamome no tamago bean cakes look a lot like these in terms of packaging. They come in the same type of plastic tray and are similarly wrapped in a nice bit of paper with Japanese writing. The main difference is that 6 of those cost about 550 yen ($6.12) and are slightly bigger than these. If these turned out to be as good as kamome no tamago, they'd be a much lower-priced treat. It would seem that "crane's eggs" are cheaper than "seagull's eggs".

As it turned out, these were a variation on something else. They are very similar to the Fuwa Fuwa marshmallow cakes. Yes, instead of cakes with beans, we were getting marshmallows with beans. Oh the humanity! Still, the Fuwa cakes are about 50 yen (46 cents) each and these were 38 yen (42 yen) each. I don't know if I would have bought them had I realized I was getting another marshmallow egg candy since I've already sampled so many of the Fuwa cakes, but this was a happy mistake as they ended up being well worth it.



Like the basic Fuwa Fuwa marshmallows, these are filled with sweetened yellow bean jam. As soon as you open the bag, you can get the scent of fresh, sweet marshmallow. The marshmallows themselves are very high quality and nice soft pillows, but have a certain taste which I associate with Japanese-made marshmallows. It's difficult to put into words, but it is like perfume and a mild chemical flavor. It's slightly off-putting when you're not used to it (sort of like the flavor of Japanese milk), but it's not an issue when you're accustomed to it. The beans themselves are relatively bland, as is often the case with white beans, but still lend a nice bit of flavor and a good textural contrast.

The main difference between these and the Fuwa cakes is that these are noticeably sweeter. They are on the borderline of being too sweet for my tastes, but they are a great coffee or tea time accompaniment. They also have fewer calories at 61 per egg, but this is likely because they're slightly smaller.

I would definitely buy these again. They're good value, a great size, and a wonderful treat, particularly if you love marshmallows and fine textures. My only caveat to those considering buying them is that they may be too sweet for some. If you have them, make sure you drink something to cleanse your palate between bites, though they're only about two bites each.

Fuwa Fuwa Marshmallow Cake

This is actually the third or fourth one of these marshmallow treats that I've purchased. Every time I get one, I eat it before I can get around to reviewing it and taking pictures. The only reason this review is going out is that I bought two and the second one was earmarked for my husband.

These are called "cakes" but they're really just incredibly soft high-quality marshmallows with a filling. I've only ever seen them for sale in big name convenience stores like 7-11 and Family Mart. One is about the size of an egg and costs 53 yen (about 55 cents). There are a plethora of varieties of these out there, but it's hard to find them. In my Internet searches, I've seen strawberry and jam, and my husband has found lemon and caramel (which will be reviewed later). I've never seen them personally, but you can also buy boxes of 10 for 500 yen.


This particular version, which I've always assumed was the basic variety that the company started with, is filled with white bean jam. The taste is very hard to describe, but the beans don't have as strong a flavor as red bean jam (anko). There's a sense of vanilla and butter in these, but mainly they are a sweet, textural delight. The marshmallow is soft, but not chewy in the way that American ones can be. And it's not rubbery in the way that Japanese ones can be. These are unusual because they are made with gelatin instead of agar agar (a derivative of seaweed which is often used instead of gelatin in Japan). The bean filling adds a slightly grainy texture as well as flavor.

I couldn't find a manufacturer's web page for these (and there's no nutrition information on the package so I can't give calorie information), but searches turned up a ton of blog reviews and favorable mentions. Some people were unhappy about the price because it costs almost half of the price of an entire bag of regular marshmallows. I think the quality though makes it well worth it. This is like a gourmet marshmallow and I definitely recommend sampling it if you see one in a box by the check-out counter in a convenience store.