KitKat Bitter Strawberry (Big Bar)

When I spied this newest KitKat, I said to myself: "Self, you promised me that you wouldn't buy anymore damn strawberry KitKats because they are, more often than not, cloying and fake... and they aren't really very different. Self, you know that strawberry KitKats are the lazy wankers at Nestle Japan just churning out a minor variation rather than taxing their grey matter." Then, I realize I shouldn't talk to myself so much and buy the damn KitKat anyway because it's only 120 yen ($1.50) and probably won't be in the convenience stores forever. Incidentally, this "conversation" occurred in 7-11, where I bought the bar from an utterly indifferent cashier. The experience nearly brought a tear to my eye. It's  the type of service that one gets back home from teenagers working late shifts.

The first thing I noticed about this big bar was that it has been divided into three sections for better portion control. This made me quite happy since I never eat a whole one at once, and actually tend to eat only one-fourth at a time. This made it easy to divide by snapping it along the pre-scored points. I thought it might break apart in a jagged fashion, but it broke clean. I give Nestle Japan points for good product design.

Unlike some white- and milk-chocolate-based KitKats which are strawberry-flavored, this smells good when you open the package. You get mainly a dark chocolate scent with just a whiff of strawberry as opposed to an overwhelming fake strawberry scent. The truth is that there were two reasons that I gave in on another strawberry version because of the promise of this being dark chocolate and feeling that would cut back on the often overly sweet strawberry flavors. The other reason was that my husband was interested in trying it to so I knew that I wouldn't be responsible for eating it all if it was nasty.

Fortunately, this was a pretty good variant on a KitKat. The Big Bar attributes, like a firm and generous chocolate coating with good snap and plentiful amounts of wafer, were intact and delightful as always. The blend of dark chocolate and strawberry was also well-balanced. So, score a "win" for Nestle in this regard. Note that the dark chocolate is not a high percentage and is more for those who are on the sissy side when it comes to such things. It's not in the least like milk chocolate, but lacks any deep bitterness.

While I can't say that this bar is the end-all and be-all of KitKats, I can say that it quite enjoyable. Dark chocolate lovers who prefer their bitterness on the milder side should give it a shot. I'm not sure that I'd recommend forking over a premium price for this, but I would say it's worth what I paid for it.

Mister Donut Orange Madeleine Donut

As of this post, I realize I've been talking a lot about donuts as of late. I assure you that I have not turned into a Homer-Simpsonesque donut-eating fiend. It is mere coincidence... or at least I think it is. Perhaps spring is a time when an older woman's fancy turns to donuts, or there have just been a lot of opportunities to sample new and interesting things. This post was motivated by the fact that Mister Donut has come out with a line of donuts which tout, among other things, the inclusion of vegetables and fruit.

Click to see a larger size. Image captured from Mister Donut's web site.  

This particular type of donut does not have any vegetables in it as I was too chicken to try those ones. In the U.S., I'd have some confidence that the veggies would be well-hidden under thick layers of sugar, flour, fat, and more palatable flavors. In Japan, where the cheese danishes are made with sweetened Gouda and cheddar, I fear that a donut made with chocolate and gobo (burdock) will actually taste like burdock. The same goes for the sweet potato and spinach one, which is incredibly green and probably appeals only to someone with Popeyesque levels of enthusiasm for spinach.

This donut is not actually a donut. Even on the Mister Donut web site, they liken it to a madeleine. It's really close to pound cake. It's sweet, heavy, and moist with subtle orange flavors except where there are little bits of sweetened orange embedded in it. It's a truly delicious bit of cake and well worth the 157 yen ($1.95) and 241 calories. Frankly, it does inspire me to try some of the "riskier" flavors, though I'm much more likely to go for the pumpkin one if I'm to try a vegetable-based one.

These were released at the end of May and I'm not sure how long they'll be on offer. These types tend to peter out in 2-3 months so strike while the iron is hot if they interest you. This particular variety is definitely worth your attention.

Warabi Mochi

When is mochi (pounded rice cake) not really mochi? It's when it's actually made from braken starch instead of rice. Warabi mochi is called "mochi" for the same reason that Pop Tarts get to be called "toaster pastries". There is a resemblance even if the components aren't exactly what they're supposed to be.

In the case of warabi mochi, it has similar textural qualites of mochi. It's soft and slightly stretchy, but not nearly as chewy. It's like a cross between gelatin and mochi,  not that that's a breeding pair anyone is really clamoring for. These little cubes or spheres which are clear or covered with soy powder (kinako) are sold in many shops in Japan, but are particularly easy to find in major supermarkets like Seiyu. I bought the package I'm reviewing today at that particular place for 198 yen ($2.46). It's 200 grams (7 oz.), which you can either eat all at once and become logey from the carb bomb you've ingested or split into a couple of snacks. I did the former and had to struggle to keep my eyes open and stop yawning during a private lesson.

I've had warabi mochi in various forms before including some beautifully packaged souvenir forms. There is a small quality difference between the market versions and regional versions, but it's not enough to shy away from the cheap versions like I had today. The "mochi" itself mainly lends a textural quality and has very little flavor. They are like soft little pillows and actually fun to pick up, at least that is so before you squeeze the thin, dark, sweet syrup (mitsu) that accompanies them onto them.

I really like warabi mochi because I like kinako and the distinctive mitsu syrup. They're actually quite sweet despite their "healthy Japanese sweet" appearance. This is no surprise since the ingredients are mainly sugar, water, and braken root flour. I've also read that they're supposed to be "low calorie", but I read calorie values of between 135-180 calories per 100 grams (3.5 oz.). It could be that they have a lot of sugar or that those values assume you'll use the entire syrup packet on what you eat. Since most old-fashioned Japanese sweets do not provide nutrition information, I can't confirm anything locally, except for the fact that these are delicious and have a nice texture.

If you like kinako and gelatin-like treats, I'd definitely recommend giving these a try. Whether or not they suit a particular person's palate is not something I can predict, but I find this particular treat quite enjoyable. If you have a chance to give it a try, I'd recommend sampling it regardless of the company that makes it. The only thing that is really important is that it be fresh because it isn't nearly as good after a few days, and in fact may change color and degrade.

Random Picture 67

The earthquake has had some interesting and unusual consequences, and I'm pretty sure that this particular bag of chips is one of them. You can't help but notice the fact that these are promoted as being from Australia. The day I took this picture, there were three types of plain (just salted) chips on display and each with a different price. These were the most expensive at 138 yen ($1.72) per bag, followed by chips made by potatoes grown in southern Japan at 128 yen ($1.59) and finally those for 118 yen ($1.47) which didn't promote where they came from on the front of the bag. Though I can't say for certain, I believe these varieties are on offer because of the Japanese mistrust of their food coming from areas in or near Fukushima where the radiation leaks have been a major concern. People may be willing to pay more for chips if they come from as far away from Fukushima as possible and from a country they trust food imports from (that is, not China).

Osaka Okonomiyaki Sembei

I have only been to Osaka once during my stay in Japan. In fact, a lot of people who ask me what cities I've been to here keep telling me I need to see more of them. I've been to Kobe, Osaka, Nikko, and of course all of the cities surrounding Tokyo and have investigated more nooks and crannies of Tokyo than the vast majority of Japanese folks. In fact, my husband and I went to Kappabashi several weeks ago and every Japanese person I told asked me why I went there. Kappabashi is known as "kitchen town" because it sells plastic food and restaurant supplies, but few Japanese people look into it.

My point is that I see no reason why one city or place has particular value over another, particularly when most people visit a city only to drop in at a particular shrine which resembles pretty much every other shrine and eat food at a restaurant which is the same general type of food that they eat in Tokyo and maybe go to a hot spring or walk around a park. I ask people why they think okonomiyaki, a sort of savory pancake which the kitchen sink is heaped onto, is different in Osaka as compared to Tokyo and the answers I get are pretty weak - the ingredients taste better because they are fresher. I'm pretty sure there is some variation, but I'm also pretty sure it's the type of thing only the most exquisitely refined palate can detect.

All of this is my roundabout way of saying I didn't buy these souvenir crackers because I haven't been to Osaka in ages, and I wouldn't choose these if I were to go again. Mind you, I liked Osaka when I visited, but I'm not going to pick up something which looks like someone barfed on a cracker and petrified it. In particular, I'm not going to go for something which smells incredibly fishy and talks about how it has mayonnaise. Mayonnaise is a friend of mine, mind you, and I enjoy it in moderation, but in Japan you never know if it's going to dominate whatever you are eating.

In the case of this cracker, it's the fishiness which offended my tongue. I don't have a problem with fish in general, but I don't like things which are fishy in flavor and that's where a lot of the taste of this dominates. The little colorful bits of what I presume may be vegetables appear to be largely ornamental and the mayo isn't an overbearing influence but is there.

I'm sure there are people with tastes that are suited to this cracker. I'm simply not one of them. I appreciate the gift, and the fact that these are made to resemble the food they're meant to taste like, but they're just not my type of thing.