Harajuku Mochi Chocolat Sakura

Natto is often considered to be the most unique and strange food experience when it comes to introducing Japanese cuisine to foreigners. It's stinky, sticky, and reminds you of mucous. While as a singular food, natto may indeed be one of the strangest things you can eat in Japan, there is a class of food that I discovered is a bit bigger and more broadly used than what I regard as its nearest Western cousin. That is a group of foods that, after processing, are fairly flavorless. 

My first experience with this came when I mentioned to a student that the chanko nabe (a sort of sumo wrestler's stew) that I'd had on my tour of a sumo stable had these weird little grey blocks with black specks in them that found distasteful in appearance. The student practically gushed about how wonderful konnyaku was and how much she loved it. She said it tasted so good and was really healthy. I told her I didn't eaten these little somewhat gelatinous blocks because the reminded me of frog's eggs and asked what they tasted like. She paused and said, "They don't taste like anything."

Such was my experience in Japan with certain foods. People would tell me something was fantastic, but it didn't taste like much of anything. That included jiggly blocks of pale tofu, konnyaku, and mochi. While we have bland foods in the U.S. (potatoes, rice), we don't have foods that are processed and end up flavorless with the exception of gelatin... at least not that I can think of. And, even if we do have such foods, we lack the same level of enthusiasm that I saw for them in Japan. 

Most of these foods are about their texture as well as the flavors that they can absorb from other ingredients. It took me awhile to come around to enjoying such foods, but it helps that I'm a texture junky. Mochi in particular is very much about how it stretches and the sort of chewy, softness it offers. Fresh mochi is amazing. Stale stuff is inedible. When you order shelf-stable sweets like this Harajuku Mochi Chocolate, there is always a risk that it'll be tough as you don't know how long it has been sitting around or how well it is packed. I'm pleased to say that this much have industrial strength oxygen absorber packets and is sealed well. 

The mochi comes in a square box with a little plastic two-pronged fork so you can stab the hands of people who try to eat your delicious, delicious mochi without piercing the skin and risking a lawsuit. Though there are ample numbers of pieces, they are quite small. Each is a little bigger than a quarter and fairly thin as mochi goes. The "chocolate" is a soft, creamy white substance that runs thinly through the center. When you eat it, it imparts sweetness, but there is too little to get a good sense of flavor or creaminess. 

Each bit of mochi is a soft little pillow that is somewhat chewy, but easy to bite into. Even after I'd opened the package and consumed the mochi over several weeks, they remained fresh to the last morsel. The first hit on your tongue is sweetness, perhaps from the coating which could be cornstarch mixed with powdered sugar. It could also just be that the filling is spread evenly enough and is sweet enough to leave a lasting impression.

The second bite is more floral and yields more cherry notes. On the back-end of a tasting, it can even leave a whisper of herb-like and slightly medicinal flavor, but not in a negative way. As mochi goes, this is fairly flavorful, sweet without being cloying. Of course, mochi often lacks a very strong flavor so saying it is "flavorful" isn't meant to convey that it's a flavor-blasted experience, but just that it is present.

In terms of how I liked this, I liked them very well and was happy to have tried them. That being said, I mainly chose these because it is spring and sakura is a seasonal flavor that won't be around in several months. I likely would not buy them again as I regard this more as a curiosity purchase than a standard snack that I'd like to have again. If you enjoy sakura's cherry and floral notes, then you likely will enjoy this more than me (and I did enjoy them). If not, you may want to try a flavor more akin to your tastes like chocolate or green tea.

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

Weight: 10.2 oz.

Price: $9.95

Meiji Gummy Choco Candy

Nuts, corn flakes, bananas, wafers, rice puffs and crisps, potato chips, coffee beans, and grasshoppers. No, this is not a game of "one of these things is not like the other". These things are actually all alike in a particular way. All of them, including the grasshoppers, can be purchased in chocolate-covered fashion. I thought about all of the things which you can buy covered in chocolate which may or may not naturally seem a pairing with it when I pondered the idea of chocolate-covered gummy candy.

Today's reviewable comes to you (and me) courtesy of CandyWarehouse at which you can not only buy the chocolate-covered gummy candy, but also a variety pack of insects enrobed in thick chocolatey goodness. The notion does bring to mind the "crunchy frog" sketch in Monty Python, but it may seem far less alien in the future than it does now as I hear that we may have to utilize insects for protein when civilization falls in the next 50 years or so. When that time comes, you'll think that chocolate-covered gummy will be a gourmet memory and in no way inferior to any of the other more common suspects.

This isn't chocolate in the conventional sense as it's not the brown stuff, but rather fruit-flavored white chocolate. The three flavors are strawberry, muscat, and orange. The first and last seemed rather promising as those flavors pair well with conventional chocolate, but I was dubious of the muscat flavor.

After opening the tube, I was hit with an intense fruity smell. It was surprisingly strong. After sampling each flavor, I discovered why. Each of them tastes like a child's bubblegum flavor infused into white chocolate. It is too intense and fake-tasting. The weird thing is that fruit juice concentrates as well as various fruit liquors are used to flavor these. The flavors come from real sources, but it's all a bit too intense for my tastes.

Of the three, the one that was the least palatable was the muscat. I know muscat isn't the same as grapes, but they are similar. Chocolate-covered raisins work, but have you ever seen or tried a fresh grape as part of a chocolate fondue? I'm guessing not and for good reason. The two flavors just did not mesh.

The strawberry was intense at first and ended with a strong white chocolate sweetness. It worked okay, but it was like two flavor blasts and neither was particularly tasty. On the bright side, the textural contrast of the soft, creamy chocolate and the chewy gummy was pleasant.

Orange is the flavor that I would expect the most from, but it also was far too strong. It reminded me of flavor-blasted baby aspirin. I guess that all of that fruit flavor really is packed in there.

I admire the effort put into these, and the truth is that my husband liked them. He said that the flavor really got more intense once all of the chocolate melted away, but he still liked it. I wouldn't say he loved it, and I don't think he'd go out of his way to get them again, but he will finish the tube. As for me though, I'm not going to eat more of them so that's an "unhappy" rating is for me and a "happy" one for him. He said he likes the taste and the overall experience are good for him, which is weird because he generally dislikes gummy candy of any sort. I actually like gummy candy and even have experience with chocolate-covered gummy (via Tirol's "mochi" chocolates which are actually gummy).

So, the bottom line is that how you'll feel about this is going to vary based on your tastes. I'm going to give it the two ratings it deserves.

For me:

For my husband:

 

Daiso (Meito) Kuchidoke White Chocolate

Most Americans grew up knowing the difference between Coca-Cola, RC Cola, and a store brand cola. We know that the store brand is a knock-off of Coca-cola and that it will be much cheaper, but inferior in taste and likely mouth feel (because of a variation in carbonation). RC Cola wasn't as bad as the store brand, but still a big step down from "the Real Thing" (aka Coke).

When you encounter brands from another country, you have little idea what is what. The big cheeses will eventually reveal themselves if you pay attention, and the lesser brands may or may not build their way into your brand awareness consciousness. Glico (Pocky), Lotte (Koala's March and Crunky), and Meiji (Hi-Chew and Meltykiss/Meltyblend) emerge as the premium consumer-grade snack makers. Meito, the manufacturer behind today's item, is definitely closer to the RC Cola level than the Coca-cola level. In fact, they're just a few steps up from store brand.

Rather ironically, Meito created this chocolate as a store brand item for Daiso. For those who don't know, Daiso is a 100-yen shop in Japan and has branches in the U.S. at which it typically sells items for $1.50. It is an awesome store in Japan with a lot of utilitarian and cool items. In the U.S., it's still pretty great, but the selection isn't nearly as good.

This product is clearly designed to have the look and feel of Meltykiss/Meltyblend chocolates. The packaging is similar as is the square-shaped chocolate in individual foil packets. Both are also dusted with cocoa powder on the outside and meant to resemble truffle-like chocolates. The main difference aesthetically is that the cocoa powder on the outside of these is much lighter in color than Meiji's Meltykiss. The use of "kuchidoke" or "melt in your mouth" is also meant to evoke the image of the more popular brand name product. Meltykiss is only sold in the winter because it's supposed to, well, "melt".

The first thing I noticed about this was that it was harder than a Meltykiss chocolate. The outer coating seemed more like a crisp shell dusted with cocoa powder that surrounded a core of plain white chocolate than the ganache/truffle-style experience of the competitor it seeks to emulate. I could tell by how hard it was to cut through and how the outer shell shattered that it was definitely not the same as a ganache or soft truffle chocolate. It does melt in your mouth, but not as a soft, yielding, fatty chocolate. It melts in the way that nearly any kind of chocolate would do so if you held it on your tongue long enough.

The flavor is actually quite good with a deep flavor of chocolate hitting you after it melts on your tongue for a moment. That is, I imagine, the outer coating melting away and the effect of the cocoa powder. The second flavor is less impressive and that's the white chocolate coming through. For at least a short time, it let's loose some cheap white chocolate flavor before it yields to a richer, creamier flavor. All in all, it's fine, but a mixed bag and certainly not on par with Meltykiss/Meltyblend in terms of quality.

There is absolutely nothing "wrong" with this chocolate taken on its own except for the fact that it doesn't live up to its promise either as a knock-off of Meltykiss or as a "melt in your mouth" experience. Given that Meltykiss in the U.S. costs $4.00 (usually) and this is $1.50, it may be unrealistic to expect better for such a low price. However, you can spend your money on something domestic which will be just as good if not better. Though I enjoyed these on a certain level, I definitely wouldn't buy them again and am not inspired to try the other varieties in the Daiso line - at least not at this time.

Starbucks Sakura Chocolate Latte (product announcement)

You know that spring is on its way in Japan when the "sakura" (cherry blossom or cherry depending on the entity that distributes it) foods start popping up. In my buffer, I have a post I've been sitting on which talks about seasonal flavors and sakura is definitely a harbinger of the end of winter. Starbucks is launching a very pink-looking beverage the day after Valentine's day. You'd think they'd do it before, but I believe this is a way of appealing to palates that are tired of all that chocolate. This is cherry and white chocolate with strawberry-flavored candy bits on the top. While I have to admit that the colors are beautiful, this is the sort of thing I'd avoid because I'd expect the fruit flavors to create a strange melange and the white chocolate to make it too sweet. 

Careme Quattro Fragrant White Cookies

I recently watched a lecture by a priest on addiction. You might ask yourself, "why is a priest talking about addiction?" You might also say, "this is a Japanese junk food blog, why on earth are you talking about priests giving lectures on serious topics?" This are all good questions and I have a good answer. He was talking about how there are certain things that we are born enjoying and, as children, we like things that are sweet because our genetic heritage has inclined us to do so.

When it comes to things like coffee and booze, we have to actually learn to like them. Part of how we do that is to adulterate them with more pleasant-tasting things like sugar, milk, or juice. We add something we naturally enjoy to something we find less pleasant in order to acclimate ourselves to bitter or harsh flavors. Once you get addicted to caffeine or alcohol, you can let go of those things which make them palatable and focus on what you need to get you high.

As this priest talked about how kids like one thing and adults like another, I thought about adult tastes and how we tend to separate them from those that children enjoy. Alcohol, by virtue of the illegality of consuming it at younger ages, at least outside of ritualistic practices, is something that we associate with adult tastes. However, sometimes, even adults don't enjoy the taste of alcohol. We have to learn to like it.

This cookie is part of an adult tastes line-up of the Quattro cookie line. I'm sure that this is an idea that they ripped off from Nestle Japan with their popular "adult sweetness" line of KitKats. What does "adult" taste like? It appears that it tastes like rum raisin as that is what the goo inside of these little biscuits is highly reminiscent of. One must ask why they didn't simply name them "rum raisin". It could be that I'm wrong about the flavoring or it could be that "mystery meat" sounds more provocative than "meatloaf".

I picked up this box of 6 cookies for $2.29 at one of the many Japanese markets in my general area. This is my second review of one of the Quattro line of cookies. The first one was an orange chocolate one that I loved so much that I sent a box to my sister. I won't be sending a box of these to my sister.

There is really nothing "wrong" with these cookies, but there are several things that they didn't exactly get "right". One was that the chocolate cookie portion is so flavorless as to practically be a plain cookie. I think more chocolate bitterness would have balanced out the almost cloying sweetness of the white chocolate. Sandwiched between the white chocolate and the bland cookie is another layer of slightly off-white chocolate that is supposed to be cheese flavored, but not much of that comes through. The dominant flavor is what I perceive to be the sweet white chocolate and the rum raisin sauce.

I like the textural mix of the crispy cookie, soft-ish chocolate and the jelly-like filling, but that's really not enough to overcome the fact that rum raising is one of those "adult" flavors that I never developed a strong affinity for. I'll finish the box, particularly since, at 43 calories per cookie, these aren't the most calorific sweets in the world, but I wouldn't buy them again.

Furuta Torukeru White Chocolate Bar

"Torukeru" means "melty" or "melting" and is often used by Japanese candy makers to say that there is soft, ganache-like chocolate involved in their candy-making alchemy. Often, that means it's either oozing all over your fingers or soft, but solid. You can see by the illustration on the package above that they're trying to convey the idea that there is soft, creamy filling trying to escape the evil clutches of the brittle wafers in which they are trapped between. 

The problem with this concept is that you're putting something which is essentially absorbent between something absorb-able. Over time, the wafers are going to suck some of the moisture out of the cream and disable all of its capacity to be anything resembling "melty". That is what happened to my bar, if indeed it ever was full of soft, melting cream in the first place. Fortunately, this in now way detracted from the textural elements which included the easily cleaved exterior chocolate coating and several crispy wafers with a very thin layer of chocolate cream between them.

This was surprisingly good considering its white chocolate exterior and my general aversion to said substance. The not so sweet and slightly bitter interior wafers and chocolate filling balance out the fairly sweet white chocolate exterior. Surprisingly, at room temperature, the outside is quite firm. I've had problems with Sequoia chocolate bars being too soft, but this was good and reminded me of one of the better KitKat variations that I've experienced in the past.

One can pick up Sequoia bars for near a dollar at Japanese markets in California and they're quite cheap in Japan as well. The "specialty" bars like this one tend to be about 50 yen or about 50 cents at convenience stores. They are a cheap way to try something a little off the beaten path and I was not disappointed in this. At 141 calories for a single large finger-sized bar, it also offers good portion control.

Though I liked this quite fine, it wasn't exotic enough or "good" enough to make me want to have it again. As a one-off sampling, I have no regrets, but I wouldn't recommend you go out of your way to try it. Though it's a nice enough wafer-chocolate combo, it's probably not worth choosing over more interesting options. Still, if you're in Japan and crave a KitKat, but don't want to have a whole bar around to tempt you, this is a really good alternative and better than the regular chocolate Sequoia bars (which are actually pretty good, too) by a small margin. 

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.

Vanilla KitKat Big Bar

There's a song by Barenaked Ladies which my husband has listened to many times in which about a million lyrics are disgorged in about 3 seconds that has a line which says something about vanilla being the finest of the flavors. As a kid, I would have vehemently disagreed with this, but, as an adult, I'm definitely much closer to agreeing with. I realize that one of the reasons "vanilla" was not good when I was a kid was that most of what was marketed at that time as "vanilla" was simply "absence of chocolate". An ice cream cone from the local "Tastee Freeze" was pretty much milk flavored with some artificial flavoring tossed in. It wasn't even an approximation of vanilla, but rather some sort of flavor that was supposed to enhance the consumption of a cone of white soft serve.

I think that since the days of my ancient childhood (I am all of 47, after all), consumers have gotten more sophisticated about vanilla. The price of vanilla beans would indicate there is some reason to believe that is so. They wouldn't be so expensive if demand were not fairly high. Nestle Japan decided that they were going to go "for real" in this vanilla KitKat bar and the package boasts the inclusion of real vanilla beans and 13% "vanilla paste". I was not sure at all what "vanilla paste" was, but a little research said that it is vanilla beans mixed with a thick sweet syrup made with sugar and a thickener. It's supposed to be good for making ice cream and is used in gourmet cooking. I may be a tad cynical, but I'm guessing this KitKat isn't using the highest quality vanilla bean paste in every bar.

I should note that this purchase was something my husband desired more than me. He's a great fan of white chocolate and I'm decidedly "so-so" on it as I generally find it too sweet. For that reason, I'm going to go with his rating on this bar instead of mine. I will share my impressions, however, since I can't really speak for his taste buds. I can only say that he said, "I really liked it!" I can also say that he ate all but the bite I took for review purposes by himself.

Regarding my feelings, it was, as expected, too sweet. There were nice little black flecks of vanilla beans in the white chocolate and the inner filling was brown (not white) so there wasn't an overload of white chocolate. The wafers were, as always, crispy and satisfying and the extra number of them in a Big Bar were welcome. However, there was a funky flavor to the white chocolate which overpowered any sense of the vanilla beans authenticity. I thought it tasted like chemicals, but it may simply be something about white chocolate that rubbed me the wrong way.

So, for me, this would be an "unhappy sumo" rating as I wouldn't have finished the bar. For my husband, it'd definitely be happy as he ate most of it in one sitting. If you want one, they're at most convenience stores for about 120 yen ($1.44) for now. Fans of really sweet bars should love it. Those like me, perhaps not so much.

White Adult Sweetness KitKat

I'm not sure what to make of the "adult" line of KitKats in Japan. When I ask my Magic 8 Ball about whether or not it is popular, it's saying that all signs point to "yes". In addition to the original less sweet semi-sweet release, there is currently a white chocolate and green tea version. On the other hand, I keep seeing this particular KitKat stacked in huge boxes and for a reduced price. Shortly after my husband and I paid full price (100 yen/$1.25) for this bar, I found it on sale for a mere 59 yen at Okashi no Machioka discount snack shop. I had seen the original version available for the same price not too long ago and I figure that the market must be flooded for it to show up in such a proverbial bargain bin. However, if it's not popular, why does Nestle Japan expand the line?

For white chocolate in particular, I'm quite pleased at the development of an reduced sweetness version as it tends to run on the cloyingly sweet side normally. I'm hoping that scaling back the sweetness will mean good things for the likes of me, though I honestly was not the one who chose this bar. It was my husband's choice. These days, he wears the pants in the family when it comes to buying KitKats. Normally, for big life purchases, we both have one leg in those pants, but I'm willing to defer to his wishes when it comes to consumer confectionary.

The main difference between this and the standard white chocolate KitKat offerings is that the filling is dark in color. I believe it is filled with finely crushed bitter chocolate cookies (like the dark portion of an Oreo cookie) rather than a super thin layer of cream, or at least that such cookies are mixed with the cream. This smells like standard white chocolate, which is to say like frosting and sugar. The first bite seems quite sweet initially, but then the filling mellows it out a bit and provides a flatter experience that mellows out the white chocolate. Overall, the mixture is far more palatable than plain most white chocolate offerings, but it lacks any serious depth of flavor. Still, as a KitKat with all of its textural delights, the balance is quite pleasant.

I would have liked this a bit better if there was some more profound bitterness to the interior of the bar, but I really have no complaints. That being said, I definitely wouldn't take this over a kinako or plain milk chocolate big bar, or even a regular milk chocolate KitKat. It's good, but not great. Note that this is a box of 3 mini bars of 69 calories each rather than two packages with longer fingers of around 100 calories. This new format is increasingly common for the standard KitKat in Japan and likely caters to the smaller snacking habits of Japanese consumers.

KitKat Air In White

My husband recently went home to visit his family and take care of some business in the U.S. Being your faithful snack blogger, I remained in Japan all alone so that I might purchase junk food and write about it. Okay, you know that is a big, fat lie. I stayed here because the fuel surcharges are so expensive that we couldn't afford two tickets to paradise. The point is that he brought me back 6 boxes of meringue cookies from Trader Joe's. For reasons I can't explain because they go beyond the love of crispy, marshmallowy cookie goodness, I am crazy for meringue. I know a lot of people find them chalky, too sweet or lacking in flavor, but I adore them.

If you've ever made meringue cookies (and I haven't since it requires running the oven at low temps for a long time and I'm so impatient), you know that it is made by beating air and sugar into egg whites then baking them. It struck me that eating something which incorporates air is really paying money for nothing, yet I will still most likely gobble down all of my Trader Joe's vanilla meringue cookies in record time. It does beg the question of why something should be more desirable with air when it is perfectly fine without it. Of course, I speak of the KitKat, not meringue, which absolutely requires air to be anything more than just egg. The answer to why there's air in these KitKats is obvious to me: Nestle Japan is out of any other ideas.

This is a box of mini KitKats weighing in at about 40 calories per and each is about half the length of a single finger, but a little wider. There are 7 in the box (lucky 7? too cheap for 8?) and they cost 150 yen ($1.98) at convenience stores. That makes them on the expensive side, but pretty much normal for this type of special release.

These smell rather different than usual KitKats, but it is hard to pin down why. Since there is both white and darker chocolate, you get two different tastes and better depth of flavor. The base is bittersweet and the top is buttery white chocolate. The wafers only lend texture and crunch, and less than usual because of the need to make a higher "air" portion on the top caused a few wafers to be sacrificed. Sometimes airy chocolate has a bit of a crispy feel to it, but it really doesn't seem to be doing much here besides lowering the total calories.

I liked this a lot because the chocolate flavors came together well. A little more crispy wafer would have been good, but I'm not complaining. I ate two of these at one time and it didn't seem incredibly sweet in the build-up. For any consumer-level chocolate, and one with a white chocolate component, that's pretty impressive.

Though this isn't the most bizarre or exciting KitKat Nestle Japan has come up with, it's still pretty tasty and is the first one that I think competes favorably with the original bar. In fact, I'd say it beats it in terms of the chocolate, but falls just a bit short on the wafers. The air aspects absolutely does nothing for it. However, I'd definitely buy this again.

Meiji Fruity Lemon Chocolate

This review represents what is likely to be the last of the "summer" snack offerings that I'll be covering in 2011. Lemon has been the shining star of the setsuden (energy conservation) summer in Japan. Somebody somewhere decided that the sharp sourness of lemon was equated with "ice" and "cool". Perhaps you're supposed to be braced by the desire to pucker up, though I can't say that I personally have ever encountered a lemon sweet that wasn't sufficiently saturated with sugar that I have found myself in the remote vicinity of a pucker.

This is part of Meiji's line of stick chocolates, which were introduced some time in the last year or so. My first encounter with this particular line was with a cinnamon version. At that time, I thought it was a one-off release, but the general line must have been successful as now I'm seeing many flavors including Earl Grey, ginger, and mint. This line is called "my choco box". I guess that it serves people who are possessive about their treats.

There are 6 sticks in the package. Each is about 30 calories for about 5 grams. My guess is the total volume is not dissimilar to a Hershey's Kiss, though the presentation makes the experience different. At normal room temperature (not hot, not cold), the chocolate is on the soft side and has no snap at all. Frankly, I wasn't fond of the texture as I like chocolate to be a bit peppier when I bite into it. This yields like an overcooked noodle.

The box says that this is made with 26% lemon juice and the lemon is quite present, but not nearly as sour as I might like. There's a missing citric acid bite which has either been consumed by the cloying sweetness of white chocolate or too much sugar. My husband, who likes things sweeter than me, liked this fine. He felt the balance of flavor and sweetness was quite good. I found myself wondering if it was all a bit too one-note for me and if I might have liked it better if there had been greater depth to the flavor such as added vanilla, more salt, or another citrus addition.

For me, I think I'd like this better if it was refrigerated first to make the chocolate firmer and the flavor was enjoyable if on the sweet side. I feel it's unfair to give it an indifferent rating even though I personally would not buy a box for myself again. That being said, if my husband bought a box for himself (and he did say he'd buy this again), I'd certainly eat a piece of it. I'm giving this a "happy" rating because I think it's good, even though it's not an ideal sweet for someone with my particular tastes.

Tirol W-Goen Chocolate

Every culture produces a candy version of its money. I like to imagine this started with Hanukkah gelt, because that's the oldest religion I know of which includes an ongoing custom that offers up candy money. However, considering that chocolate is a New World crop, and that the ancient peoples who grew it drank it much like we drink coffee, I'm guessing that the true origins of things like chocolate coins will remain unverifiable. Such is the loss to humanity.

I knew when I picked up this bag of Tirol chocolate 5-yen coins that it wasn't going to be full of some unique candy that I'd be struggling to describe the flavor of. I bought this out of a sense of culturally transplanted nostalgia. That being said, I had forgotten how obnoxious relatives liked to tease me with hints that I was getting actual money then give me the chocolate stuff. They were always amused by this gag, but my sister and I were far less impressed. Nonetheless, when old sorts weren't trying to pull one over on my diminutive self, I always loved getting gold foil-covered coins at various holidays (usually Christmas) and I couldn't resist the Japanese take on this childhood favorite. Also, frankly, since most Tirol candy is sold in individual squares, I wanted to sample this unusual offering from that company.

The candy is actually quite a bit bigger than a real five-yen coin.

The packet contains 54 grams (about 2 oz.) of individually wrapped candies. Each packet is 28 calories and has two "coins", one white and one semisweet chocolate version, in it placed back to back.  Both are fairly thin and nicely crisp with a good snap. Well, at least mine were after I kept them in the refrigerator. The white chocolate one is mellow and sweet. It's actually less cloying and offensive than most offerings of the white stuff. The other one is actually quite tasty with a nice bit of bitterness and a strong chocolate flavor.

I liked these quite a lot and would be pleased to keep a bag around for a quick bite of chocolate if they were all the semisweet chocolate variety. As it is, I tolerate the white one amiably, but find it less than fulfilling as a sweet snack. Right now, my chocolate bits of choice are Crunky mini bites (which are 14 calories each), but these are a serviceable substitute for portion-controlled nibbles.

Tirol Premium Shio Pine

Note: It has been pointed out to me that this is "shio" (salt) pine, not "shiro" (white) pine. You'd think that'd be clear from the big white letters written on it in English as well as the Japanese characters, but my addled upper-middle-aged brain missed that. That being said, there is nothing at all that is salty about this candy!

When I first saw this, I briefly entertained notions that it was going to be some sort of white pine flavor, like a pine nut, cone, or tree. I forgot all too quickly that "pine" in this case was "pineapple" and missed the fact that there were a bunch of yellow rings illustrating the package indicating the fruit this was supposed to taste like. This is surely an indication that I do not think in Japanese language, which is no surprise considering the fact that I spend most of my life speaking English despite where I live. Aside from asking, "how much is it", and "where is it," I rarely need to say much in Japanese. Yes, that may sound odd, but such is the life of an English teacher with an American husband. We don't all need to spend our nights trying to pick up natives in Roppongi and therefore have ample opportunity to speak the native tongue.

The fact that this is pineapple in no way disappointed me. I love pineapple, and it's one of those flavors that is harder to get wrong than others even if it is "shiro choco" (white chocolate). The combination of something with an acidic edge to it often cuts through the sweetness. The only way that Tirol was going to mess this up was to make the flavor too weak or the chocolate too sweet.

The chocolate is soft and cleaves rather easily with a knife, something which I value because it makes it easier to get a detailed shot of the interior. Inside, there is a little gummi candy topped with a few bits of crisped rice. Most of the pineapple flavor is in the gummi and lends a good bite and a fairy realistic pineapple flavor. The rice crispy bits add a nice textural contrast to the soft, sweet white chocolate exterior.

This is a tasty little candy that you can pick up at convenience stores now for about 20 yen (24 cents). It's a small morsel, about an inch (2.54 cm.) in diameter, and makes an enjoyable bite or two with a cup of tea. At only 54 calories, it also offers good portion control. If you're a fan of pineapple sweets, this is one that you don't want to miss.

Tirol Mikan Chocolate

Growing up in the U.S., my taste buds grew accustomed to what a particular flavor "meant" to me.  If I bought some grape candy, it all pretty much tasted like other grape candy. The basic essence of those flavors was similar and I recognized them for what they were based on my experiences.

It wasn't until I came to Japan that I found out that the essence of a particular flavor when it is translated into sweets or snacks isn't necessarily the same to everyone. "Grape" candy in Japan may or may not taste like grape in the U.S. I've certainly found that "cheese" sweets in Japan aren't the same as cheese sweets back home since savory cheeses are used here and only cream cheese tends to be used back home.

I was thinking about the basic essence of flavors because orange candy at home often is a bit different from that here, and this Tirol mikan chocolate actually brought back a greater sense of what I used to have back home than most orange candy in Japan. The main reason for this is that it smelled so intensely orange, like a whiff of a newly opened carton of orange juice concentrate. For the record, fruit juice concentrates aren't sold here so I hadn't smelled anything as strong as that for over two decades.

The soft chocolate outer shell of this candy is rather sweet and lightly orange flavored. It's the the firm gummy candy interior that carries a very intense citrus flavor. It's quite zesty and satisfying compared to many white chocolates because of the citrus bite.

For a mere 20 yen (24 cents) and a one inch square of candy which provides only 54 calories, this is a good investment both in money and potential body fat. I really liked this and would definitely buy it again. I bought mine at Family Mart convenience store, but Tirol chocolates are sold in a wide variety of places in Japan. If you find this one and like orange chocolates, I recommend giving it a try.

Rokkatei White Chocolate Strawberries

Lately, cartons of freeze-dried strawberries have been on sale at 7-11. They're pretty expensive for a relatively small portion. About 11 or 12 white chocolate covered strawberries about the size of a jawbreaker cost around 800 yen ($8.74) at the convenience store. This particular version by Rokkatei is 115 grams and costs 550 yen ($6.00). These are often purchased by Japanese people as a more elegant food gift or souvenir.



Note that neither my husband nor I bought these. They were given to us as a gift. He loves strawberry and was very curious about these when we'd seen them in 7-11. Personally, I was less enthusiastic about the idea. Freeze-dried food doesn't really make my motor roar, nor does white chocolate.

These smell only of white chocolate, even when cut open. The freeze dried strawberry feels like a wet sponge and at first tastes like dust on your tongue. After your saliva moistens it, it's like a rubbery blob. Most of what you taste is white chocolate with a strawberry aftertaste. It very much tastes like something is wrong with the strawberry, like it's been overcooked or is ready to go bad. The inclusion of real strawberry in these is worse than artificial strawberry. The best thing I can say is that the white chocolate isn't throat-burning sweet. In fact, it's relatively tasteless.

These are supposed to be elegant, but they're really just not good at all. I only ate about 2/3 of one and I tossed the remainder in the trash. I wouldn't recommend these to even the most die-hard strawberry fan.

Tirol Hot Cake Butter & Maple Premium

For those who aren't familiar with Tirol (or haven't been paying attention to my prattle about them), there are two types of them on offer in Japan. One is a small version sold in variety packs with 9 candies usually in 3 or 4 flavors for around 100 yen ($1.20) per bag. The other is a slightly larger version (about 1" square) sold as a "premium" version for 20 yen (24 cents). The small type is about 2/3 the size of premium version.

The reason this distinction is of value is that the smaller ones are made with less sophistication and care than the larger ones, and this "hot cake" version was first released some time ago as part of variety pack. I didn't review the non-premium version because I refused to buy 6 candies I didn't want to sample 3 that I did want. However, Ebidebby at Snack Love reviewed it. The basic structure is the same, but the premium one has more sauce and the sauce is separated from the crispy biscuit. It is protected from getting soft from contact with the sauce by a layer of white chocolate. It's these little touches and a marginally larger size only that separate "premium" from regular.

I found this at at NewDays convenience store for the aforementioned price of 20 yen, but they are available at most convenience stores. This little morsel is only 51 calories, which will give you about 2 bites. Once you open the wrapper, you smell sweet, sweet maple syrup. The white chocolate outer portion is super soft and it nearly melts on your fingers at room temperature. The interior is a nice crispy cookie. It tastes like super sweet white chocolate with only the barest hint of maple. Mainly, it is dominated by a powdered sugar flavor. I didn't detect any "hot cake" or pancake flavor at all. I think the bland little biscuit in the center is supposed to be a surrogate for the hot cake, but it's not a very capable replacement.

This was rather a great disappointment because it's just pretty much a throat-burning sugar bomb with very little flavor. If it hadn't been so small, I probably wouldn't have finished it. To be fair, I'm not a great fan of white chocolate, so I reacted more unfavorably to this than others might. If you can find it cheap and adore white chocolate, it still may be worth a try, but if you have to acquire it expensively via an importer or hate super sweet candy, give it a miss.

Echigoseika Fluffy Chocolate Sembei

I've known about this product since last spring when I reviewed the same company's cheese mochi sembei, but hadn't located it. The reason why I couldn't find it is that it is seasonal and is only produced between September and March. I guess they feel that it's too dangerous to put even sembei that includes chocolate out there if we're in the 5-6 months of summer weather in Japan. Since I found the cheese mochi last April, it means I just missed it.

I found these at Okashi no Machioka discount snack shop for 198 yen ($2.37). It includes 3 pouches of 20 grams (.7 oz.) each and there are about 115 calories is in about 10 balls (the contents of one pouch). You can probably find them in other markets or possibly even convenience stores since the company is a major snack maker. Note that these are not a "healthy" sembei option as the first ingredient is sugar followed by vegetable oil and then rice starch.

Some things really defy explanation because they are so unlike anything you have ever tried before. Let's start with the idea that this is sembei, but it's "fluffy" and chocolate. And the name actually describes the product accurately. These balls of rice-based puffy goodness pretty much melt in your mouth. They are soft and cool on the tongue. The exterior is very sweet with a sugary white chocolate coating. It may be hard to accept this, but they taste like vanilla ice cream. Given their texture and properties, eating them is like having sweet ice cream without the pesky need for refrigeration.

I really liked these, but I recognize them as a "sometimes" snack because of the high sugar content. They are absolutely worth a try if you can get your hands on them. The experience is both unique and enjoyable even for picky palates. Frankly, this is the kind of product that keeps me reviewing new snacks. It's rare to come across something which is so unlike anything I've had before, yet very approachable in its flavors, but when I do, it feels like hitting a home run. The only way you're not going to care for them is if strong vanilla flavor doesn't appeal to you or if you don't like fairly sweet things.