Random Picture #134

There's a huge snack shop in the Ameyokocho shopping district in Ueno, Tokyo that is so dizzying in its vastness (both because it has two stores and two floors) that I couldn't drink it all in when I went there. It not only carries a plethora of imports, but also about every sort of Japanese manju (traditional sweet) that one might imagine. The shop is called "Niki no Kashi" and is well worth a visit if you find yourself visiting Tokyo.

On the occasion that my husband and I visited, the big challenge was always to choose from among the huge variety of options at hand such that we could actually consume what we purchased before said foods acquired house guests (of the bacterial or insect variety). Since things are relatively cheap there, it's that much harder to walk away. The banana manju pictured above was a tricky one because my husband likes all things banana and it has a dopey saying on the box. "It finished only using the delicious banana selected carefully. Please enjoy momentary tea time." I guess you wouldn't want your tea time to drag on too terribly long.

We didn't end up buying this because I'm not a huge fan of banana snacks, even if they are crafted with delicious and carefully selected fruit.

Sanko Seika Kakimochi Sembei

One of the things which I have not had any sort of access to since coming to America is sembei (rice crackers). Yes, I can find rice crackers in shops that look like sembei, but I've discovered that they don't taste like it or have anywhere near the same texture or flavor depth. What little I've had has been too soft and lacking in snap and lightly dusted with flavoring on the outside. In other words, they are nothing like the richly flavored crackers I tended to experience in Japan. The adjective that comes to mind is "flaccid".

Fortunately for me, Nijiya Japanese markets carry real Japanese sembei. Yay! Unfortunately, they tend to be much more expensive than what I could buy in Tokyo and I cringe at the idea of paying 3x as much (or more) for a bag of rice crackers. Sure, I love them, but I also love Pop Chips and they essentially fill the same empty snack hole in my life. Salty stuff is salty stuff. Well, not quite, but for the price of one modest package of sembei, I can buy an enormous mega-party-size bag of barbecue Pop Chips at Costco. I can snack for a month or so on that, but I was starting to long for my old sembei experience.

Fortunately for me, these appeared to be on sale when I was at Nijiya. Instead of something in the $3-$4 range, these were about $2 (157 yen). This priced them pretty much at the same point as if I were at Inageya supermarket back home. There are 12 individually wrapped crackers, each is about the length of your palm and a little less than half the width. By the way, I used to give exact measurements, but someone wrote that I was too precise, so now I just try to give a visual approximation. That may still be too much information, but each is a single serving so it's important to know what you're getting. One cracker is 45 calories.

When you open the package, these smell like concentrated soy sauce and baked rice. Ah, smells like living in Japan and being given snacks at tea time by an office lady. The taste is a good blend of soy sauce, savory spices (chicken, mirin (sweet sake), sesame, bonito (fish flakes), etc.), and seaweed. On the surface, this isn't necessarily a mix to warm the cockles of my taste buds, but they come together in a savory melange of goodness. You can't really detect anything individually except the soy sauce and seaweed. The remainder forms a backdrop of rich flavor depth. Coupled with the super crispy cracker, this is a sublime experience.

It could be that my absence from such snacks has made my heart grow fonder. Scratch that. This is the sort of thing I'd completely take for granted if I were still living in Japan and experiencing it after so long an absence made it much more enjoyable. This really took me "home" to living in Tokyo again as it had a blend of flavors I'm unlikely to experience from any product that wasn't exclusively designed for the Japanese market. I'd certainly buy it again.

Noodle House Industrial Sesame Cookie Rolls

I love the name of the company that makes these. It seems slightly scary that a food is made by a company which has "industrial" as a part of its name. It reminds me of the episode of the Simpsons in which they go to Japan and the translation they use of various Japanese companies includes "concern" like "Osaka Fish Concern." It makes me wonder if the Chinese equivalent is "industrial".

My experiences with Chinese snacks is rather limited. It's not that I have little interest in them, but rather that, as someone who lived in Japan and operated based on what I could purchase there for many years, I didn't have many opportunities. The Japanese are in an intense rivalry with China and prefer to avoid supporting their businesses, but the food issue is related to perceptions of safety. There were several instances in which Chinese food was reported by the mass media as dangerously contaminated by chemicals, the most widely known of which concerned pot stickers or "gyoza". Businesses in Japan were unlikely to carry Chinese food as consumers didn't trust it based on such suspicions.

These cookies came to me courtesy of a guest who is of Chinese descent. She told me that they were her grandmother's favorites and that she picked them up at a Chinese bakery in San Francisco. The company that makes them makes noodles (surprise, surprise) and dried seafood as well as moon cakes, almond cookies, and other Chinese traditional sweets. Despite my best search efforts, I could not find an online seller of these cookies. However, there are sites which will allow you to inquire about buying them.

The cookies come in a large tin in order to protect their delicate nature. However, despite some plastic inserts for padding, they did tend to break up quite a bit from being transported. I didn't really mind the fact that they broke up a bit as these are very large cookie rolls. I'd guess each is about 5-6 inches long (12.7-15.2 cm). Eating a smaller piece isn't necessarily a bad thing.

The first thing you smell when opening the tin is the scent of coconut. The ingredients list is flour, butter, sugar, egg, sesame, coconut powder, and vanilla. Given that butter is second, it is no surprise that these have a buttery flavor, though the coconut element is the strongest. The sesame is actually eclipsed to a fair extent by the coconut, but it is still quite present. Because they are so fatty, they leave a slightly oily sense on the tongue after you eat one so it is best to have one with tea or a hot drink. They are very crumbly and have a delicate crispy texture which nearly melts in your mouth.

These are thoroughly enjoyable cookies and at 107 calories per large cookie, not too hard on the diet. However, I do think that the oily residue it leaves may be quite off-putting for some people. It didn't bother me, and I would be happy to buy a tin of these for myself some day if guests fail to bring me another one as a hostess gift. ;-)

Random Picture #133

One of the KitKats which I eyeballed but never bought was the "hojicha" KitKat. For those who don't want to dash off to the linked Wikipedia page, hojicha is roasted green tea (that's why it's brown). My main issue with it is that it is a regional KitKat that comes in a big box of minis and I hated to have to buy a large number of them just to sample one. These are designed, incidentally, to be purchased by traveling business people and brought back to the office as a souvenir snack. That's why the boxes contain 12 minis and you can't get them as regular bars or smaller boxes of minis. If I hate the flavors of these, I've wasted a lot of money. I didn't work in an office when I started this blog, and I didn't have anyone on whom to fob off unwanted candy. My husband certainly wouldn't have touched a tea-flavored KitKat with a 10-foot pole!

Beyond my sense that I didn't want to squander my hard-earned yen on a dozen untested KitKats, there was also the fact that my readers either know the taste of hojicha or they don't. While many have tasted conventional green tea, this variation is not so common. There wouldn't be a whole lot of meaning to saying whether it was authentic or not. What is more, there are other reviews out there of this KitKat, though they frankly rather suck in the way I was afraid my review would suck if I'd done one. That is, they say it captures the flavor well and is therefore tasty.

Some of those reviews also suck because they rave about how insanely rare these are because they're regional (Kyoto), but that's not exactly true. Yes, they are not sold on every convenience store shelf in Tokyo, but they are sold at major train stations (e.g., Shinjuku), Narita airport, and at the Odaiba souvenir shop in which my picture was taken, not to mention some snack shops in Ueno's Ameyokocho. The truth is that, if you are in Japan and really want a regional KitKat, you never have to actually go to that region. There is no such thing as a "very rare" KitKat, except those that were issued as limited editions and sucked so badly (I'm looking at you lemon ginger ale KitKat) that they will never ever show up again.

Tirol Summer Assortment

I'm fully cognizant of the fact that it is no longer summer, and that this bag showing sun, seagulls, and palm trees is incongruous with the cool breezes, dying leaves, and chilly air of autumn. Actually, with climate change, I'm not sure that we actually experience fall in that fashion anymore, but for the sake of argument, I will admit that I'm reviewing this seasonal variety pack rather late in the game. To be fair, I bought it recently at Nijiya market in San Jose, CA (it could not be had at the Mountain View branch) and this selection only recently vanished from Tirol's web site. I can't recall what I paid for it, but I think it was somewhere in the $3 (234 yen) range.

This was the sort of thing that I would not buy when I was living in Japan because it includes a very common flavor (nuts crunch), a reissue (mango) with one flavor of interest to me (coconut). Under those circumstances, I would not pop for a bag on non-premium Tirol chocolates. For those who don't know or remember, the Tirol brand is offered in two different sizes. One is a smaller square sold in 9 packs and the other is a larger (about 1 inch/2.54 cm.) size which is sold individually. The premium candies larger size means they are generally more sophisticated in construction with multiple layers of fillings. The non-premium ones, such as these, tend to be simpler as it's hard to layer in much in such a tiny presentation. In general, the variety packs lack the flavor depth and potential of the premium candies. 

The strange thing is though that I thought I'd already sampled two out of three of these chocolates, but reviewing my backlog, I see that I had never tried any of them. I guess that's all for the better then. 

One has to wonder why peanuts wear bow ties around the world. Is this level of formality a genetic inclination?

Nuts Crunch:

I should note that I balk at writing "nuts" crunch instead of "nut crunch". The Japanese generally don't accept or follow the conventions in English in which you do not use a plural when a noun modifies another noun. That's why they say "peanuts butter" instead of "peanut butter". However, the words are written on the package in such a way that I can hardly deny them, so don't come around telling me that I've adapted crappy English as a result of my time in Japan. My English may be crappy, but it's all on my shoddy editing skills, not absorbing Japanese-English. 

Now that we've got that straight, let me say that this is a very tasty peanut and chocolate combination. It is crunchy, but I think the reason it tastes better than some others is that the peanuts were fried prior to having their fragments embedded in milk chocolate. There's a rich roasted quality to the nuts which makes the flavor profile better even with an extremely small portion in the candy. Incidentally, I intentionally photographed this chocolate upside-down so that the uneven distribution is easy to see. I loved this, and if I could buy a big bag of these alone, I certainly would.

Mango:

This smelled nicely fruity with a slightly perfume-like edge. The outer white chocolate is very, very sweet and quite soft. The jelly inside is also soft and has a zesty edge to it which helps cut through the sweet outer coating to some extent. The flavor is like a really rich mango puree mixed with a bit of powdered sugar. As a small bite, it's really enjoyable, but I think that one small candy would definitely be the limit. Any more than that at once and it's just going to overwhelm one with sweetness.

Coconut:

The coconut scent on this is quite intoxicating and I was encouraged by the fact that it had a dark chocolate coating. I can't think of any reason why dark chocolate should pair better, but it's possible that years of seeing "Mounds" bars made me believe this was the proper presentation. Unlike the aforementioned bar, the coconut filling in this is not too sweet and the bittersweet chocolate cuts through what sweetness there is for two complimentary flavors. That being said, I ate this in two bites and it seemed rather intensely bittersweet by the end of the second bite. I liked this, but I wouldn't go out of my way to eat a lot of them.

I like the Tirol concept of mixing flavors in small portions and the fact that the flavors are often pronounced with balanced sweetness. I don't like the fact that the chocolate is often quite soft and that was the case with these. I prefer chocolate with a greater snap to it. That being said, as small bites of chocolate to satisfy a craving, I don't think one can go wrong with these. The flavors are strong without being overbearing and you really do feel that one chocolate is "enough."