Cheeza Bleu Cheese Crackers

It may seem that all I do is try to think up dumb or funny introductions then talk about the actual food when I make these blog posts, and, yes, that is what I do most of the time. However, through time, things are revealed about Japan and Japanese food culture which show a broader "truth" about the way things are. Believe it or not, something as mundane as these Cheeza crackers brought this though forward.

A great deal of Japanese cuisine is relatively subtle in flavor, and the Japanese find some foreign foods overbearing because their palates are generally tuned toward delicate flavors. I'll be the first to admit that my barbaric American mouth prefers to be beaten over the head with flavor. This overall tendency toward meeker flavors doesn't apply universally in Japanese food though and the area where you can most see this is in otsumami, or food designed to be consumed with beer. Such foods are often very strongly flavored. My guess is that this is either because people drink more when consuming strong flavors (which is great for bars) or they are sufficiently numbed with intoxicants that they need a bigger hit of flavor to get through the fog of their inebriation (or both).

These Cheeza crackers deliver the strong flavor in spades. They bring to mind the strong pungency and intensity of bleu cheese dressing with its moldy veiny cheese bits. They are also crispy and light little crackers. With 51% cheese, it's no surprise that they are so flavorful and with so much fat from the cheese, it's no surprise that they are crispy.

I picked up this 38-gram (1.3 oz.) bag at a local supermarket for about 150 yen or about $1.79 (on sale, they're usually more expensive). You can find Cheeza nearly anywhere in Tokyo. The entire bag is only 195 calories so you don't have to feel too guilty about polishing the whole thing off, though if you're adding some beer calories on top of that, you may find yourself developing a belly. Personally, I thought they went well with a tuna sandwich as a contrasting flavor, and it fails to produce the same beer gut effect.

Meiji High-C Lemon Tablets

Like the yogurt tablets that I reviewed previously (which I liked, but a commenter amusingly likened to something you'd be given at a dentist's office), these candies are touted as something which are healthy for you. Instead of healthy bacterial cultures and Calcium, they are going to fill with Vitamin C. So, if you have a cold, these are the pony you make your bet on. If you have a stomachache, go for the yogurt tablets.

Like the other tablets, these are similar to a sophisticated version of the kid's snacks in the U.S. called SweeTarts. They are pressed powder and mainly composed of sugar. The first ingredient is sugar followed by grape sugar then lemon juice. These tablets smell a lot like the type of lemon juice that people who rarely cook buy in green glass bottles and keep in the refrigerator for eons. That is, like stale lemon juice.

These are rather grittier and less smooth than their yogurt counterparts. If you suck on one, it starts to degrade more rapidly and fall apart more rapidly. The lemon flavor is very tart and pleasant though it has a bit of a strange aftertaste (it's that stale lemon thing whispering back at me). While it's in your mouth though, it's good. I'd just recommend having a drink handy to wash out that aftertaste.

These are quite nice. I could see buying them again if I was in the mood for lemon or felt under the weather. The lemon bite is nice. They're not too sweet and the texture is good for this type of sweet. I'm not over the moon about them, but I do like them well enough. Like the yogurt tablets, they're a good thing to just buy and toss aside until you have a craving or desire. They'll keep well and for a long time.

Incidentally, this product and the yogurt version have one of those annoying nutritional information inconsistencies that drive me crazy in Japan. For the yogurt tablets, information is given for the entire box but for these tablets, information is given for a third of the box. I think they do this because the entire Calcium level (300 mg) is only impressive if you eat the whole box of yogurt tablets, but you get 333 mg of Vitamin C from eating only 6 of the 18 tablets in the box. It's clearly done differently to present the most positive nutritional profile, but it does obfuscate the calorie information. These are 6 calories each.

Random Picture 46

One of my "missions" as a person who blogs about Japan is to help people reach some understandings about Japan. These are actually things that apply to every place in the world, but for some reason people are exceptionally rigid about their thoughts in regard to this country. They seek and believe in ultimate "truths" and think that anything which states something other than their experience is a distortion on the part of the observer. Convincing such hard-headed folks that there is not one "truth" about Japan (or anywhere) is likely an exercise in futility, but I'll keep my Don Quixote complex in this regard.

Perspective about anything is influenced by a variety of factors including the time, place, and people that are in play at the moment of that experience. Your very personage is also a factor as people react differently based on an individual's appearance. The Japanese do this more so than more heterogeneous cultures since they are more easily amused, shocked, or intimidated by people who are vastly different than themselves.

As a tiny example of how such factors influence opinion, I offer you two pictures of the exact same spot not much more than a month apart, but world's away from each other as experiences. Both of these pictures are of the exact same space (from a slightly different angle, but the same territory) at Meiji shrine in Tokyo. This is a large, round space between a restaurant and some souvenir spots. The picture at the top was taken on New Year's Eve 2010 and the picture above this paragraph was taken in November 2010.

If you were to experience this same locale on one date, it'd be crowded, cacophonous, hot, and so commercialized as to make you cringe. If you experienced it during a pleasant autumn afternoon, it'd be cool, empty, peaceful, and reserved in its commercial presentation. The experiences couldn't be more varied based on the time, people, and situation, and this is how multiple truths about life in Japan are developed. People aren't distorting reality to bend to their prejudicial view. It's simply that there isn't one truth.

Meiji Pucca Sweet Potato Cookies

Seeing Pucca cookies always reminds me of venerable Goldfish crackers in the United States. It appears that we enjoy eating cookies and crackers in the shapes of certain animals more than others. Actually, I know that probably isn't true. The most likely reason that fish are a shape of choice is that they require very little detail to convey what they are. If you've seen really cheap animal crackers, you're already aware that many of the giraffes, gazelles, and even monkeys come out as little more than amorphous blobs.

I've had very favorable experiences with Pucca before, but I was somewhat wary of a sweet potato version. While I've had plenty of good sweet potato treats in Japan, anything which tends to run on the sweeter side is a bit of a "risk" in that the manufacturers tend to either use a puree which is far too intense and has at least a hint of rotting sweet potato. Pucca tend to be better balanced, but this is a combination which is easy to get wrong.

Like all Pucca, the exterior is a dry pretzel shell without salt injected with a chocolate-based filling through a little hole in the bottom (sort of a belly button for the fish). It has a nice contrasting depth of flavor which usually betrays some earthy rye flour flavors. In this incarnation, I couldn't detect the usual rye notes because the filling's flavor is quite intense. That being said, it is intense in a way which is not so overbearing as to make it unpleasant. This is strong and sweet, but still good.

Each little cookie is 11 calories, and given how intense they are, I was satisfied with just 3 or so at a time. I'm not sure how I'd feel about these if I were to eat a lot of them at once. I tend to think I'd enjoy them less at greater volume. Among the Pucca flavors that I have tried, this is definitely my least favorite, but I'd still eat them again. However, given the slow rate at which I'm consuming the current box, they're likely to disappear as a seasonal treat before I have the chance to buy more. If you're new to Pucca, I'd still say go for the original version with chocolate filling, but if you're an old hand at these flavors and want to try something new, these might bring a smile to your face.

You can find these pretty much anywhere at the moment and they're generally only 100 yen ($1.20) per box for 46 grams (1.6 oz.). However, most sweet potato treats are seasonal and vanish by spring so you'll want to try them sooner rather than later. I'd be surprised if these were around past next April or May.

If you'd like to download some desktop pictures with the cute Pucca fish, you can get them here.

Pasco Sweet Potato "Stick"

When I was a kid, I remember visiting my maternal grandmother and having sandwiches with her "weird bread". That is, bread that was made with whole wheat, grains, or whatever that made it brown and "gross". I couldn't understand how anyone would choose such oddness over white bread. Now that I'm "old" (46), I can't see the appeal of the gluey cushions of nothingness that I perceive white bread to be. To me, it's just a step removed from cake, particularly in its Japanese incarnation.

Because I eat whole wheat bread and baked goods nearly everyday, turning to the Japanese bread section for anything is rare for me. I realize that most of the bread is relatively finely made with gobs of fat and sugar to make it soft as a cloud and to lend some very fine textural elements, but it just doesn't float my aging boat. However, I pondered these Pasco sweet potato sticks mainly because I'm sucker for all things sweet potato. Also, at only 65 calories per stick, they looked like very fine fodder for tea time.

I tried eating this three different ways. First, I had a bite as it came out of the package. The sense was decidedly "meh". It mainly tasted like fairly decent white bread with a hint of sweetness and a detectable margarine flavor. The sweet potato didn't come through much at all. Second, I wrapped it in foil and heated it a bit in the toaster oven such that it was warmed, but not too hot to handle. This made it slightly better as the texture of the bread was softer and seemed fresher and it seemed a tad sweeter. Finally, I heated it to a point where it was quite hot to handle using the same method and this is where it seemed to "wake up".

By getting it really hot (about as hot as you can manage without seriously burning your fingers), the sweet potato turned creamy and soft and the flavor seemed to open up. I could really taste the sweet potato as an element only when the bread was in this state. The only problem is that "near nuclear" hotness doesn't last long so they have to be savored rather rapidly if you want the maximum enjoyment.

I liked this, but I'm not a fan of super sweet pastries. This was quite subtle in its flavors and not very sweet. You really have to be as much a fan of plain, relatively decent quality white bread and sweet potato to want to eat something like this. In many ways, this type of "pastry" typifies a strong difference between Japanese and American tastes. There are plenty of these sorts of sticks or twists in Japan with mixtures of chocolate, "cream" (like custard), red beans, and sweet potato. They are all quite similar to this one in that they aren't incredibly sweet and have subtle flavors.

The big question which I find hard to answer is whether I'd buy this again. I probably would, but not soon and not often. I tend to favor whole grains and stronger flavors for breakfast, and I try to avoid products made with white flour because of the potential for a blood sugar spike and crash (which will make one very hungry after a short period of time). I could see buying this again when I was in the mood for a change of pace, but only perhaps once or twice a year.