Dars Biscuit

Living in a foreign culture, and trying hard not to be too ethnocentric makes me frame my gustatory experiences differently than I did back home. One of the things which always rubs me the wrong way is the elevation of one culture's choices over another. In particular, the idea that Japanese cuisine is carefully designed for health concerns. A culture doesn't decide to eat fish, seaweed, soy, and rice because of nutrition. They do it because that is what is available in their particular geography. The food culture grows around the available resources, not concerns about nutritional purity. Tastes fall into line with that culture's readily available options because humans like what is familiar.

Traditional Japanese cuisine is a combination of the elements which were easily attainable within the island's borders, but since the world has become a smaller place and food culture is widely shared, new options are constantly being injected into the Japanese diet. Developed countries have the extreme luxury of being able to mix and match a plethora of food options. I doubt that things like cookie chocolates would exist in Japan if it weren't for the influence of European baking culture. Of course, chocolate wouldn't be here without the Americas. Thinking about it this way, it doesn't seem like this product is very "Japanese" at all.

When it comes to chocolate, confectioners can't seem to decide if they want to sell esoteric combinations (like chili, sembei, etc.) or stick with traditional pairings that are known winners. With Dars, which is better known for its fatty, creamy chocolate, Morinaga decided to "mix it up" a bit by adding something textural. I was, frankly, a bit dubious of this entry in a long line of cookie chocolates, particularly considering my favorite way to consume Dars is to put it in my mouth and allow the creamy chocolate to melt on my tongue. That's definitely not going to be the case with this one. You can find these pretty much everywhere that carries Dars (convenience stores, markets) for the time being. It's usually 100 yen ($1.25) for a box of 12 small pieces.

Each little square is the same size as a usual bit of Dars. It has a volume not too dissimilar to a Hershey's Kiss and a calorie count which matches (19 calories per piece). There is a generous amount of crunchy cookie, but not so much that it isn't nicely held together by the chocolate. The scent is nice, but not intense. You can tell just from the smell alone that this isn't going to be anything near dark chocolate. The chocolate is sweet and milky, but not cloying. The cookie bits are crispy, buttery and rich and help cut through any overpowering sense with the sweet candy.

Most of the time, the cookies don't play much of a major roll in the flavor of the chocolate. They are just studs of texture which undercut the intensity of the chocolate. In this offering of Dars, I think they actually contribute 50% to the overall enjoyment of the candy. That being said, these are not for people who like less sweet candy or intense chocolate. This is good for those who like things milky.

Random Picture #86

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Halloween quietly passed Japan by, which is reasonable considering they don't actually celebrate it. However, they do know how to take advantage of a marketing opportunity and every year I see more and more items designed to get the Japanese into the Halloween spirit. Well, that's not exactly true. I don't think they know what the spirit of All Hallow's Eve is and I'm pretty sure that, if they did, it wouldn't really suit Japanese sensibilities. I'm not only talking about how knocking on strangers' doors for free candy would rub them the wrong way, but the "tricks" aspect would be viewed as troubling others in a thoroughly unacceptable manner. Besides, in a country that goes for the toilet paper in a crisis, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't feel great about wasting it TP'ing.

Among the plethora of cute Halloween-themed treats, I was especially enchanted by these pumpkin-shaped manju (traditional Japanese sweets). I even considered buying them, but three are more than I can eat in a short time and this is the type of thing best consumed fresh. 

Chestnut Pucca

Despite my initial reservations about the show, I found that I learned to love the T.V. series "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer". In Japan, incidentally, Fox used to promote it as "Buffy, the cross lover." Fortunately, they gave that promotional slogan as it made sound like she was doing something impure with a crucifix rather than running around stabbing vampires with bits of sharpened wood. 

A lot of fans of that T.V. series felt that the secondary character of "Willow", played by Alyson Hannigan, was more attractive, more interesting, and generally a more appealing part of the show. She wasn't the name character and more people were familiar with Buffy, but she had a quality that those who were paying attention appreciated. I personally had no favoritism, but this situation, in which a more widely-known character is actually of lesser quality than a secondary character, reminded me of the standing of Pucca in the Japanese snack world.

The "Buffy" of Japanese pretzel snacks is "Pocky", but Pucca is a much better presentation of a similar concept. Pocky dips the stick in flavored coatings, Pucca has a crispy pretzel shell full of flavored cream. In my opinion, Pucca carries a much better, earthy rye flour pretzel flavoring and the concentration of the filling inside provides for a stronger burst of flavor. The shell is very crispy and delicate and provides a better contrast (and crunch) than a Pocky stick. 

The only question about this presentation of Pucca for me was whether it was going to do right by me in terms of the chestnut filling. Mainly, was it going to convey the essence of chestnut and be properly, but not overbearingly, sweet. I'm pleased to say that it hits the nail right on the head in terms of conveying a creamy chestnut flavored enhanced with vanilla. The filling is a lot like the cream in an Oreo, though it's a bit more solid. 

You can find Pucca all over the place, and this version will probably be around until the weather turns warm again. It's usually 100 or so yen per box ($1.21) and each box is 46 grams (1.6 oz.). The entire box has 241 calories. While this isn't my absolute favorite Pucca (that honor stays with the original chocolate version), it is a very tasty variation. If it were just a little salty or a little less sweet, it'd be getting a "very happy" rating. As it is, it's still good, but just avoids being great. 

Befco Yuzu and Salt Sembei

Before I started this blog, I was reluctant to sample a lot of Japanese foods. To be perfectly honest, I didn't know what a lot of the traditional flavors were because I just didn't pay that much attention to the food. I've tried a lot of things, and not everything has really floated my boat, but I've come to really be attracted to two flavors in particular. One is kinako, or toasted soybean flour, and the other is yuzu. For those who don't know, it's an Asian citrus fruit with a flavor which is both unique and familiar. It's piquant without being too sour or tart. Every time a new yuzu-based product comes out, I am drawn to it.

In fact, I am so in love with the flavor of yuzu that I was willing to overlook the inclusion of seafood flavors, including shrimp, when deciding to sample this. Shrimp tends to be the equivalent of my own gustatory ipecac, but I had some confidence that it won't be an overblown flavor in these rice crackers. Why? Well, simple logic... There isn't a picture of a shrimp on the bag so, you know, it can't be all that intense. Right? If it was important, they'd definitely show a picture, probably a "chibified" shrimp that looks elated at the idea of being consumed by hungry salt fiends. 

I found them at Okashi no Machioka for 168 yen ($2.09). That gets you 88 grams (3.1 oz.) of crackers. It stocks pretty much every Befco product that comes out, at least for a little while, so it's a good place to find new and interesting flavors. I've made fun of the name "Befco" before because it sounds like the Biffco industries from the second "Back to the Future". The good people at Befco finally explained the naming to me on the back of the bag. It stands for "Beika Frontier Company". I'm not sure what they are on the frontiers of, but there it is... another Japanese company name which is in English and pretty much ignores all logic. 

The crackers smell like a pleasant melange of savory flavors including a meaty scent reminiscent of pork and chicken, yuzu, and seafood. The flavors are multi-layered. The first thing you get is, most unfortunately, oil. These are one of the more heavily fried versions of sembei. The next level is the meaty elements with garlic, shrimp, beef, and crab. Finally, there is an astringent finish of yuzu. The texture is nicely crispy, but still easy to bite into. These are puffy, but not airy. There's just the right amount of salt. Each is 26.5 calories, but they aren't the biggest crackers. They're around half the size of my palm. 

These are good sembei, but for me personally, they didn't make the cut. I'm thoroughly spoiled, however, since I live in Japan and can buy a huge variety of such snacks. It's not that they are modestly enjoyable and don't have an excellent texture, but they are too oily and the yuzu element isn't strong enough for me. I'd still recommend sampling them if you're a sembei fan, but I can't see buying them again.

Random Picture #85

The Japanese dedication to marketing Halloween-themed items grow just a little every year. Though they have gotten the superficial aspects down, such as applying an appropriately cuted-up All Hallow's Eve motif, they aren't quite with it on the deeper execution. All of the snacks that I've seen with themed packaging are the same products as are usually on offer with just a different bag. These choco pies (a nice enough treat on their own as a plain chocolate covered soft cookie with vanilla cream filling sweet) are the same old same old. I don't know why they don't release special editions for the season, but I'm guessing it's because they'd rather sink their specialties into seasonal variations which have nothing to do with the usurping of American holidays.