D-Plus Hokkaido Cream Pastry Roll

Recently, I tried protein powder as a standalone product for the first time. I'm sure that I've consumed food which has had the equivalent of such supplements before, but this was my first experience with scooping it out and stirring it into a beverage in such a way that I could really taste it. Incidentally, I didn't buy it, but was given it free for review. I don't normally eat protein powder, but that's not the point I'm getting to anyway.

The protein powder had a particular familiar taste which I could not put my finger on for quite some time. I looked at the ingredients, the first of which related to peas, which I rarely eat and have an irrational dislike of because my mother tried to force-feed them to me when I was a kid, and there was nothing there to clue me in on why it should taste like some sense memory lodged deep in the memory banks of my aging brain. After giving up on pinpointing it, the answer came unbidden into my mind. It tasted like a much more intense version of the aftertaste from cheap vitamin fortified cereal, likely a Cheerios knock-off that I had in my impoverished upbringing. 

In a strange way, this made sense since I imagine one way in which cereal, which is really pretty bad for you, is "fortified" with nutrients is with vitamin powders. This protein powder had a similar taste profile. The weird thing was that the familiarity of it actually made it seem "better". It wasn't that it tasted good, nor that I had any sort of fond memory of that cereal, but just the fact that it was familiar made me like it more. Nostalgia is a potent modifier of experience.

That is a phrase that comes to mind because this Hokkaido Cream pastry roll, purchased at Daiso Japan for a modest $1.50, is all about nostalgia for me. No one, save my husband, whined more about the "bready" relatively shelf stable pastries in Japan more than me. They were not sweet enough, had too little flavor and were always composed of relatively bland white bread. However, that presentation is something which I'll always associate with living there. This roll tasted like life in Tokyo.

That is not to say that it tasted "great", but it was actually better than expected. I sampled a D-Plus Anpan previously, and found it disappointing. This was somewhat better for two reasons. First of all, the bread was fluffier and softer than the anpan version. It was suprisingly fresh in terms of the texture. That could be the nature of this sweet or I could have gotten the anpan at the end of its shelf life and the cream bread at the beginning. It's hard to say for sure, but it was actually pretty decent as far as being soft.

The "cream" part was where it really hit home as a carby slice of Japan. I thought that I'd cut it open and find a small anemic pocket of cream in the middle surrounded by a huge amount of bread. That wasn't the way it worked. If you look at the picture above, you can see dots of yellow that look like tiny bits of butter. You can also see that the cream bread is layered is sections. The cream is distributed in marginal amounts between each segment. This may account for how moist and soft the bread is since even a smattering of fatty cream filling may keep the bread from drying out.

In terms of the taste, I honestly liked it. It is ever so slightly sweet and had the barest hint of custard taste. Coupled with the fairly good texture, this was a serviceable breakfast bread or snack (and at 270 calories, it was a reasonable portion). The truth is that I'd buy this again. However, I think that this is not something I'd recommend for my readers unless they have the same nostalgia for Japan that I do. Objectively speaking, this is no great shakes and you'd be better off buying a nice bun or roll from a supermarket bakery. This was good, but only for what it is and for those who have a sense memory they'd like to relive. I'm sure that's how these D-Plus pastries remain in stock at Japanese markets. They cater to the desire of people who want the "Japanese taste" while they're not in Japan. 

Genghis Khan Caramels

When my husband and I decided to leave Japan, my focus on food reviewing changed. Not only do I expect to cram in more reviews of fresh food before it completely drops off my radar, but there are certain "staples" which I thought I should review and would get around to one day whose time has come. The time had definitely come to sample these nearly infamous "meat" caramels.

Like many strange foods, these hail from Hokkaido in Northern Japan. I don't know if we're supposed to believe rampaging hordes of Mongolian warriors once trampled their way through leaving behind lumps of sweetened meat sweets or if this is a reference to a particular food in Japan. This is a country which calls an "all you can eat" buffet "Viking", after all. They do seem to have a thing about warrior groups and their food.

Since I am not a particularly big meat fan (these are supposed to be based on lamb curry), I faced this with some trepidation. Of course, even if I was the sort of person likely to tuck into a bit of sheep flesh, I'm not sure having it in caramel form would light my fire. This is a truly strange concept, but most cultures have their oddities in this regard. America has a garlic festival in which garlic ice cream is on offer. Garlic ice cream is eminently more practical than meat candy, however. If you're a woman who has suffered a back break from your vampire boyfriend and you don't want him to come around, you can console yourself and ward him away with said cool, creamy sweet.

I've written a lot of descriptions of many flavors and it's always somewhat challenging to convey in words what occurs on the tongue. This one is one of the harder ones to really describe since any mention of meat or meat flavors is likely to incite the concurrent smell and textural aspects in the sensory memories of the reader. One thing you do realize when you try a lot of faux items, like cheesecake yogurt, is that the texture plays a huge role in how you enjoy something. In the case of this caramel, it is less offensive for not being saddled with meat aspects aside from a certain savory note. Sugar on meat is disgusting, but a caramel flavored with meat flavorings doesn't have to be quite so gross. Honestly, this was pretty good. It mainly tasted like caramel with a bit of the flavor of the part of a piece of meat that is caramelized with cooking. You know, the little bits which get just a bit burnt near the edges and carry a certain chargrilled meat flavor? Dilute that by at least 70% and that's what this has going for it with just a hint of meatiness.

While this absolutely was not disgusting or bad, it's really not my cup of tea either. A snack doesn't have to be bad for me to be indifferent to it. It just has to not be to my tastes. As a novelty and particularly as a "weird" food souvenir that won't totally gross people out, this is a great little snack, but as a repeat eat, it's not going to make it into my rotation.

Random Picture #99

There are lots of weird cookies sold all over the world. I don't imagine that Japan has the market cornered on such things, but I do see more of them sold in Tokyo than I ever saw back home. In the U.S., usually weird things were so regional that you couldn't get them unless you went to some place which claimed to be "the capital of (food type)". For instance, I bet you can get cheese-flavored ice cream in Wisconsin or cajun cookies in New Orleans, but neither would be sold in shops in big cities. 

These red onion langue du chat (cat's tongue) cookies are from Hokkaido. It seems that everything odd that I find here is from Hokkaido. Though I thought at first that they might be just shaped like onions, my research seems to indicate they are savory cookies with spices that compliment onion flavor and have a cheese cream sandwiching them together. They are shown served with wine. I wasn't really tempted, not because they aren't interesting, but because I didn't feel like paying 600 yen ($9.14) for a box of 6 of something that I am not at all sure is going to be tasty.

Random Picture #90

I love the fact that I work near two shops that specialize in regional foods. It allows me to see stuff which is marginally different than that which is sold in Tokyo with different packaging. Take this "Imorin Monroe" sweet potato cakes from Hokkaido. Inside, they are the same old common long-shelf-life sweet potato cakes that you can buy at almost every convenience store and supermarket, but they've been given a Hokkaido cultural twist by naming them after... an... American... movie icon. Hmm. OK, not so much with the Japanese culture here. Still, it's a cute concept, and was worthy of a picture. 

QBB 6P Hokkaido Cheese

I'm a sucker for any box that has cow illustrations on it. I'm not sure why that is, but it remains the truth and I'm not afraid to admit it!

One experience I often have with my students is that I will ask them a question about Japan or Japanese culture and they will answer with, "I never thought about it". When you grow up in a culture, you rarely pause to question why you or other people do the things you do. You simply do it.

For instance, I might ask, "why do you think Japanese culture evolved such that people take off their shoes before entering the house?" The common answer is that they are just such darn clean people. The reality, I'd wager, is linked to the evolution in furnishings in Japan. They didn't happen to build beds off the floor, or chairs with legs, so sitting on the floor all of the time ramped up the need to keep it clean. It's not that Japanese are genetically inclined to be cleaner than any other human DNA line. It's, perhaps, just that their culture followed a different path on the furniture front and shoe removal was a more logical step for them than inventing the vacuum cleaner or raising their beds off the dirty floor. (Note: I think that climate played a role in this as well as you don't have shoe removal in very cold climates, but that's not really an issue for this blog.)

My point is that you don't think about things very deeply after you've seen them for awhile (or forever), and only today did I ponder this sort of packaging and sales of cheese in Japan. The Japanese, in my experience, are not a nation of cheese eaters. That is not to say they don't eat cheese as a component of a dish. They certainly do. However, I've never spoken to anyone who said they routinely grab a wedge or slice of cheese and chow down on it for a snack. I, on the other hand, often enjoy a slice of cheese and a handful of mini pretzels as a fortifying tea time repast.

Recently, there has been an increase in the number of varieties of cheese sold in these round boxes with individually wrapped foil wedges. The varieties cover sweet and savory with "rum raisin" and "vanilla" dessert cheese options and faux mozzarella and black pepper varieties as well. Since the retail price of a box of these types of things is around 300 yen ($3.74) for six 18-gram (.63 oz.) wedges, I tend not to buy them because I've got real cheese (rather than processed, as most Japanese cheese is) on hand that costs less. However, with the closest Costco having been shut down due to some earthquake-related fatalities, I ran out of cheese and found this box of Hokkaido cheese for a mere 198 yen ($2.47) at Lawson 100 and decided that I was going to have to get my cheese on more expensively.

The main selling point of this is that at least 60% of the milk used for it is from Hokkaido. I've mentioned before that the Japanese are bonkers about regional food, and the fact that origins are mentioned early and often supports this assertion. Yes, in America, people will buy "real Wisconsin cheddar", but I think that that type of selling point isn't nearly as common or as valued. I've never had a discussion with an American who said, "it's from (region), so it's better." I hear such statements at least twice a month living here. Frankly, I don't know if the dairy being from Hokkaido makes this better cheese, but I do find it an interesting cultural point.

For processed cheese, this is pretty nice. It cleaves in a manner which I find satisfying. You can see grains along the break and it has the heft of a real cheese, though it still is softer than the real deal. It is mild, but still has a pungency to it so that it tastes like cheese rather than cheese product. One thing I have to give Japanese processed cheese makers credit for is that, most of the time, they aren't selling blocks of quivery, rubbery Velveeta-style stuff. It is more like a hybrid between real cheese and cream cheese.

Each wedge of this is 59 calories and it makes for a nice portion-controlled snack, though it is still more expensive than better quality Costco imported real cheese. If you don't have that option though, this is a pretty nice choice, and I bet it'd go really well if you sliced it in half and melted it on a cracker (a Triscuit would be divine, but then we're talking about another imported item) with some olive and tomato. It'd also be good with a dab of yuzu-koshoo or wasabi sauce.

I can say that I'd definitely buy this again because I had bought it twice before writing this review. No, I'm not over the moon about it, but it was good. And, as for the market I think it is aimed at, I think this falls into the category of otsumami (snacks to be consumed with alcohol) or bento fodder with a heavier emphasis on the former. However, unless I get to have a chat with the marketing folks at QBB, I'll never know for sure.

Pporo Chocola

If you shop in Japan for a long time, you start to see the same foods in the same places over and over again and this Pporo Chocolate is one of those. I've run across it in many department store basement shops. It's the sort of thing I recognize, but have never had the inclination to buy. The array of foods that fall into this particular category for me personally is incredibly vast. It's not that there is anything wrong with such foods, but just that they tend to be on the pricey side and look like they're not all that good.

This confection fell into my hands via the generosity of one of my husband's students. I found out the price online and it is 350 yen for a 5-slice package. Each piece is about 6 cm x 2 cm (2.3" x .8") and relatively dense. When my student gave this to my husband, she said that she had heard that it was very good, and my searches online revealed that it is pretty popular among many Japanese folks. One of the promotional points is that it contains ingredients originating from Hokkaido. Hokkaido is in northern Japan and well known for being too damn cold for most Tokyo-ites to bear, but also for its agricultural products including its butter and dairy.

You can see that the interior looks moist like a fudge brownie from the pictures, but actually it's oddly both dry and moist simultaneously. The chocolate flavor is neither deep nor weak and the texture is crumbly but dense. It's like a brownie that has been somewhat vacuum desiccated. That is not a bad thing, mind you. I think that the lack of moistness is related to the reduced sugar content. This is not an incredibly sweet cake, and I rather liked that. My husband, however, was not a fan. For him, it wasn't "potent" enough either in terms of the sweetness or chocolate intensity. I rather liked the texture, especially with a hot cup of tea or coffee.

I ate 4 of the 5 pieces of this (not all at once, mind you, I'm not a hog) and I enjoyed them, but I'm not sure I'd personally purchase it. I would certainly welcome it as a gift should we receive it again, however. For me, the bar on non-cookie-baked-good-based snacks (say that five times rapidly) is higher than on other things. This is because I am capable of making very impressive brownies, cakes, and muffins on my own and I have better control over the ingredients and outcome. The main "problem", small as it is with this particular product, is that the preservation technique impacts the texture. One of the reasons this is a bit dry (yet still fatty) is that that means it can stay edible in its foil packaging for a longer period of time.

I'm giving this a happy rating because I think it's good, but I'm offering that rating with a caveat to readers. Don't expect this to be a fudge brownie or a fresh bar cookie experience. If you like not particularly sweet and somewhat dry brownie-type confectionery, this will suit you. Otherwise, you may be disappointed. For 350 yen though, and given the state of baked goods in Japan, this isn't a bad option if you're jonesing for this type of thing and don't have your own oven.

Tirol Hokkaido Milk Caramel

During one of the "famine" periods of new product releases, I snapped up this Tirol Premium chocolate. Within days, there was another "feast" cycle and a flurry of new items to review and sample came around and this got put on the back burner for several weeks. Normally, I would not be jumping on board with caramel chocolates because I'm not a big caramel fan and it was only the temporary dearth of new offerings. It's not that I hate them, but rather that they're not the sort of things that get my mojo worked up. Given a variety of options, I'll choose chestnut, sweet potato, milk chocolate, or nut-flavored candies over caramel.

At any rate, I let this candy sit on my desk for a day before eating it because I think the flavor of chocolate is better at room temperature. I had been keeping it in the refrigerator to keep it from melting, and I think it was a little worse for wear in terms of its appearance. The texture was super, super soft. It practically melted in my mouth the moment I put it on my tongue. It was like eating a super soft truffle from the texture angle. I liked that.

In terms of scent and taste, this hit me mainly as sweet, burnt brown sugar caramel rather than as a buttery caramel. The fact that it doesn't have butter notes makes the flavor less well-rounded and lacking in richness. The strange thing is that butter is one of the ingredients, but it's rather low on the list. Items that are higher on the list are a plethora of "powders" including cocoa, cream, and caramel powders. 

This wasn't overly sweet, but it was sweeter than I might prefer in a "perfect" treat and the caramel flavor seemed a little fake. Like all Tirol Premium chocolates, this is a one-inch square (2.54 cm.), but unlike most, it's not around 50 calories. This has 64 calories. I'm guessing this is due to the extra fat used in the soft, creamy filling.

I liked this, but the way in which the caramel seemed fake (though I'm pretty sure it isn't) and the lack of profound buttery notes mean that I can't see buying another. That being said, this is a pretty nice chocolate. The texture is luxurious, and someone who is a greater fan of caramel than me may really love this. Don't take my indifferent rating too much to heart. I think this is a nice candy for people who love caramel. Unfortunately, I'm not sufficient enough a caramel fan to really appreciate this. These are available at most convenience stores in Tokyo for 32 yen (35 cents) per candy. This isn't the first time they have been on offer, and I'm guessing they'll disappear at some point and come back again as this seems to be part of the regular rotation of premium Tirol candies.

Dounan Corn Caramels

There's a super funky shop in a neighboring area which sells all sorts of novelty items for the hip crowd that hangs around the live houses in the area. They sell a ton of imported junk like big plastic M & M's full of, well, M & M's and the kind of stuff your pervy uncle might take to a party to amuse himself. They also carry a huge variety of extreme and atypical sweets. One of the caramels they had, for instance, was "Ghengis caramels" with a picture of Ghengis Khan on the cover. I almost went for it, but chickened out and bought these corn caramels instead.


As is the case with many of the weird caramels I review, this is from Hokkaido. They are the Nestlé of the caramel trade, it would seem, in that they are intent on coming up with as many freaky caramel flavors as Nestlé Japan is with KitKats. I can't recall exactly what I paid for this, but I think it was in the ballpark of 100-150 yen (about a dollar to a dollar-fifty) for 18 small caramels.

Each caramel is around 16 calories and wrapped somewhat loosely in wax paper. I didn't open the plastic wrapper on this box for well over a month and they kept in pristine shape even in the summer heat and humidity. I'm guessing now that the seal is broken though, that they will get a bit gummy through time.

The caramels just smell sweet. I couldn't really detect any corn scent though these are made with real Hokkaido sweet corn. The flavor at first is pretty mild but the corn flavor ramps up as you chew. It really is like eating an ear of very sweet corn from a flavor point of view and is a pretty nice taste experience. You might expect it to be a tad strange, but I enjoyed it. However, I don't know if getting your corn in caramel form (as opposed to caramel corn) is everyone's cup of tea. I'd definitely consider getting these again if the mood struck me.