Meltykiss Green Tea Chocolate

Waiting for Christmas Eve festivities to start is a bit like waiting around at the intermission of a middle school play. For the sake of keeping it seasonal, let's call it your nephew's musical version of a Nativity pageant. There's not a whole lot to do, but you're in a familiar place with the knowledge that when things do start, they're either going to be pretty awesome or god-awful. We always do a pretty low-key, but festive Christmas eve with tons of food and champers for all. This year, I'm contributing a few strange snacks of my own, not the least of which is a zesty Japanese offering, Meltykiss's 2011 limited winter release of green tea chocolate.
Meltykiss is green but is by no means environmentally friendly. If it was a Captain Planet eco-villain, it would be surely be the EnviroStrangler or something. There's more padding on this than there is on Martin Lawrence in any of the Big Momma films. However, it's all worth it, as each little chocolatey cube is perfectly formed with no scuffs or breakage. If you've had the classic Moritz Ice Cube candy, you can imagine what a Meltykiss tastes like. Roughly the size of a die, it has that chunky yet beguiling texture of vegetable oil and chocolate, with a low melting point that causes it to disintegrate as it hits the mouth. The center, for whatever reason, melts a little slower, with a smooth, chewy bite similar to eating a piece of gianduja or a slightly melted chocolate bar.
These have a cool texture on the tongue with a slightly bittersweet initial note from the light dusting of cocoa powder on top. The chocolate base coating is milky and sweet, more of a milk chocolate flavor despite looking fairly dark, but the center is perfection. With the fluffy texture of chilled buttercream frosting, the chartreuse center is a beautifully contrasting treat to behold.
The center contrasts the sweet chocolate with a bitter, strongly steeped green tea flavor, floral and perfumed, with a delicate sweet matcha flavor that permeates the outer and inner layers. It's very strong, which makes it the perfect gift for tea aficionados as it's not too sweet or diluted to impress. Perfect stocking stuffers and present toppers. Merry Christmas Eve, everyone!

Hi-Chew Mini X Fanta Honey Lemon

I rarely get ill, but when I do, it knocks me out for a few good days. One day I'll be running around, wiping my nose on my Robert Graham coat and soldiering on as I do my daily errands and assignments, the next day I'll be laid up in bed, alternating between crying and sleeping and requiring a constant stream of Fruit 2 O IV into my left arm. And that'll be the next two weeks. Because of my staunch aversion to tea and my annoyance with my school's incompetant healthcare system, when I get sick, I'm sick for a week. Who really enjoys tea, anyhow? Half the flavors of tea are flavors that can easily be accessed with a stick of gum, another habit I'm not overly fond of, and it tastes pretty gross.
Apparently, in Japan, many share my aversion to tea. Japan hates tea, right? That's why they created the Honey Lemon Fanta? Sure it is. On this blog, it is. Well, apparently there's a new Fanta flavor inspired by tea, and now there's a Hi-Chew flavor inspired by the Fanta flavor inspired by tea. They went deeper. Take note, Christopher Nolan. The Hi-Chew, courtesy of J-List, has crunchy lemon dragees surrounded by the quintessentially creamy, chewy base.
These are a pretty faithful iteration of a classic beverage. While most soda or drink-flavored candies utilize sodium bicarbonate to mimic carbonation or various combinations of sugar to get the flavor well, these mimic the drink to a "tea" while still providing a little texture and variation in each piece. The crunchy pieces are plentiful and evenly spread throughout the piece, as you can see. They are pretty sour and tart, reminiscent of a Lemonhead, but any tartness is tempered by the milkiness of the base, with a smoothness similar to a Starburst but springier. The honey flavor is quite bold, with a rich, buttery flavor bordering on caramel that interacts with the citrus and dairy exceptionally well.
My chief complaint is that this flavor only comes in the "mini" pack, which contains seven pieces of candy as opposed to the full-sized Hi-Chew, which typically contains anywhere from 8-12 pieces depending on the flavor. At $2.39 a pack, plus shipping, this comes out to a little over a dollar apiece. Unless you're a huge fan of lemon and honey or are placing a large order at J-List, don't go out of your way to order these. They're still delicious if you've got them around, though!

Bacon Steak and Tomato Doritos 'n' Chips for Highball

"Your mom. Champagne glass. 64% classier." - Your Mom Is Clubbin'
Here at Foodette, we prioritize a number of elite values in the food blogging world, not the least of which is "above all, pretension." And everyone knows that Japanified versions of American snacks designed to pair with cocktails are pretentious, to say the least, without even mentioning that these chips are endorsed by an expert, Japan's best sommelier in 1995, Shinya Tasaki. Hell yes? I mean, look at this guy's face. Sniffing out of a Riedel Burgundy glass in a tuxedo. I would trust everything that man said even if he told me he could take me on a tour of Hell in between sips of DRC La Tache.
J-List sent these over for us to try. According to the description, Mr. Tasaki and Frito-Lay formulated these chips to ride on the coattails of the burgeoning Asian wine market sales. Because nothing goes as well with an $8,000 bottle of 1947 Petrus like Doritos and Sun Chips, am I right? This particular flavor was designed to pair well with cocktails, presumably ones you can enjoy with Tasaki's $200 corkscrew and bottle opener. The bag has two different types of chips, flavored like bacon steak and tomato ketchup. The chips are smaller than your average Dorito but still have the rounded edges and thicker crunch of Japanese Doritos. The scent is pungent, like getting a noseful of Spanish paprika and tomato sauce, with an almost cloying initial sweetness wafting up from the bag.
The Doritos were definitely more successful than the Sun Chips, with a light, crispy crunch and wonderful flavor. These tasted like the Herr's Heinz ketchup chips but with a deeper, richer tomato sauce flavor, with a brown sugar edge and garlic bite to them. They were very sweet, but not in a way that made them inedible or incongruous with the rest of the chips. The natural sweet, oily flavor of the corn chip was a wonderful carrier of the ketchup flavor. It sort of put regular ketchup to shame as I felt that the flavor was just deeper and tangier, more of a marinara but somehow sweeter. Unique and a little strange to adjust to, but tasty.
The Sun Chips were supposed to mimic the exact flavor of the giant, quivering bacon slab on the package. A tough act to follow. And they crumbled in the face of porcine goodness, providing a weak smoky flavor dominated by the corny heft of the chip. No bacon, no fattiness, nothing that would have suggested meat or even barbecue sauce. It mainly tasted like ground black pepper and corn, not a bad flavor profile, but also not bacon. I've noted this before in Japanese Cheetos- all of the chips are much thicker and the denser ones end up having a dry noodle-like texture. Not a bad thing, but also kind of strange to get used to.
So the chips were good on their own, but what about alongside a few drinks? In one of the most stupidly surreal Foodette photoshoots ever, we documented the success of these chips as snacks and as cocktail pairings with what else? Bakon vodka, because you can't eat bacon chips without drinking a bacon drink. Says so somewhere in the Bible or something.
We made three cocktails, two contemporary and one classic to try with the chips. Our first cocktail didn't utilize bacon outside of a small curled garnish. It was a classic gin and tonic, nothing more, nothing less. The sweet cooked tomato flavor of the Doritos really amplified the sweet juniper notes in the gin, but neither was so sweet as to feel like a dessert or candy.
The second cocktail was kind of a "kitchen sink" style drink to gross out Miss Love and also see how the chips held up with a little spice. Enter the Flaming Bacon- bacon vodka, hot pepper vodka, Prometheus Springs pomegranate black pepper juice, club soda, and a salsa dipped bacon garnish. Despite the grocery list of ingredients and the science beaker presentation, it didn't taste like ass and the chips held up to the spice of the drink. It was surprisingly the best combination of the triad.
Our last drink failed and completely overwhelmed the chips. The Broker's Breakfast had hazelnut espresso vodka, bacon vodka, milk, and club soda. It was atrociously flavored and discordant with a fake sweetener aftertaste. The creaminess destroyed the flavors of the chips with a filmy, boozy tang. But aside from that, it seemed like the chips actually were congruent with fruity, tangy, and even spicy drinks. Then again, what salty snack isn't? These would be a unique alternative to a traditional pub mix, but didn't seem wildly outside of the realm of other sodium-laden nibbles designed to sop up booze. Maybe the wine-based Doritos will prove to be more successful.

Oreo Chestnut Crunch Bar

I'm lucky to know the people I know. I'm aware that everyone has a great set of friends and family members, but trust me, mine are the best. There are a lot of annoying, boring dickholes in the world, and I pride myself in having an automatic filter that sorts them out of my pack. I like 'em weird. I like 'em smart. Eating the Oreo Chestnut Crunch bar sort of solidified this affirmation in my head. I like what I like, and the rest can go to hell.
J-List's wonderful scouts sent this bar, along with some other fantastic treats, over to us. I was incredibly excited to try this because nothing stokes my fires, and that includes Michelin stars, like foreign versions of American products. Give me taro pies from McDonald's and karaage-flavored Doritos- Cooler Ranch has nothing on that. Chestnuts and Oreos seem like it would do well on the consumer market, especially around winter time. If New York vendors are still able to consider roasted chestnuts a lucrative treat despite being somewhat obsolete, how bad could this be?
The Oreo base has a texture somewhere between an actual Oreo and an Oreo truffle- dense, with a slight crunch, and that waxy almond bark-style coating I tend to enjoy when paired with cookies. The crunch is pleasant and I found myself really enjoying the crispiness of the bar and that addictive bittersweet Oreo cookie flavor that makes them so delicious. The chestnut flavor was pretty hit-or-miss. While it had a buttery, creamy flavor that real nuts sometimes have, the flavor manifested itself in more of an artificial syrup, like the kind you'd typically see in a latte. But while that has its place paired with coffee, a drink bitter on its own, paired with Oreos and chocolate makes it a little saccharine. If I hadn't known this was chestnut-flavored, I would have guessed mocha. It has that sweet coffee flavor that I'm somewhat endeared to. Nevertheless tasty. I'm really liking Oreos in bar format- they just have a more grainy, crunchy texture and lend themselves to more flavor additives.Check out this and other awesome snacks at www.j-list.com!

Nobel Gummy Yogurt Sours

Remember that physical contact, hand-eye coordination issue I mentioned a post or two back? Yeah, it's still here. I'm still pop, locking, and dropping like a champ. And it's laughing in the face of the kids on my college campus who insist on playing Humans vs. Zombies in the last balmy days of November. Yet another maddeningly insipid activity that further alienates me from people my own age, I'm still struggling not to scream at the kids in Steampunk bandanas with tricked out Nerf guns that they're all people- humans and zombies are people! a la Charlton Heston.
Well, little do they know, my street cred comes not from a $300 children's toy or an arsenal of foam darts, but from special Japanese gummies from the lovely Miss Love, Nobel Gummy Yogurt Sours, that bring me closer to being an actual, fairly witty zombie than they'll ever be. You see, these candies have a texture that I imagine is fairly precise to eating actual human flesh, which everyone knows is the choice nutritive supplement of the living dead. These are different from regular gummy bears in their chew, where the regular ones typically have a soft bite with a slight resistance, these are freaking fleshy, and biting into each one is like pinching the cartilage on your nose or elbow, with a decisive thud in each chomp.
The gummies are about the size of a small USB drive, with the same thickness as well. They resemble soft pieces of crystal quartz. They're an opaque, pearly shade of white, and have a hard coating of granulated sugar on their outer surface, which prevented sticky or oily residue from sticking to the fingers and added a much-needed sweet counterbalance to the tart flavor. When all the sugar is sucked off, the nude gummies are slippery in a weird way, so it's best to just chew them up before the sugar melts. While these are advertised as yogurt-flavored, they have a more saccharine, sticky taste with citrusy notes that render it more toward a generic soft drink palate, with a Sprite-like lemon flavor as the dominant taste and not a whole lot of dairy influence. Each piece ends with a persistent soapiness that isn't entirely unappealing. The entire combination, though a little esoteric piecemeal, grows on you with each piece eaten. By the end of the evening, we ate the entire bag!

Japanese Sweets Deli Mochi Cream Choco Banana

It just goes to show you how far a little research can get you when getting the scoop on foreign snacks. What I initially dismissed as exuberant Engrish on the part of the maker (mochi mochi mochi cream choco-banana?) was actually the full name of a high-end mochi emporium in Hong Kong and Japan. Granted, it still read like Engrish, but now it was gourmet Engrish. This particular snack was found in a subway convenience store in Tokyo, looking for all the world like a random, strange snack food.

After doing my homework, I found out that this store packages and sells their mochi as well as vending it freshly made from their boutiques in flavors like apple pie, honey cranberry, and darjeeling tea. This pre-made snack was in one of their most popular flavors, chocolate banana, and boasted an array of fresh ingredients stuffed into the tiny mochi balls. The chocolate banana flavor had a very appealing package with a photo of a plate brimming with slices of fresh fruit and chocolate drizzling all over. The back of the package broke down the composition of the mochi dumplings in a diagram form, helpfully stating that snackers would expect bittersweet cocoa powder coating a layer of soft mochi, chewy marshmallow, and a banana and chocolate chip center.

Inside, the mochi are wrapped individually and are very neat. The product is a victim of the potato chip cushioning phenomenon- despite looking as though the bag could hold twice the amount, it is filled with nine of the little dumplings. The mochi are much less messy to touch than I expected, with a conservative amount of cocoa powder coating each piece. They are cool and springy to the touch, with a pliable bite and depth of texture. Though some could argue that the packaging was a little excessive, I found that it protected the mochi and didn't let them scuff up against each other so that each one was in perfect condition.

Each piece is fairly weighty and is roughly the size of a small walnut, and is very soft. Not a trace of cocoa powder fell off the sticky mochi. They immediately start to sink around the shape of your fingers as you hold them, a good sign of freshness. What I was impressed with was how precisely sweet these were with all the layers of sugary elements- marshmallow, chocolate chips, banana, and chocolate usually make for a fairly toothachingly saccharine bite. But whenever a sweet element showed up in the bite, another, more neutral part (like the mochi skin) masked its sweetness in a deft way so that no one bite was overwhelming. The flavor was delicious. The chocolate's two bittersweet and sweetened forms were one of the highlights, but the fresh banana puree inside really won me over. It was soft and chunky, evident of having real bananas inside, and had a sweet, creamy texture. The only off flavor in it was an artificial banana note, which I couldn't quite comprehend. I'm not sure if it was used to boost the natural fruitiness, but it didn't help and came across as a little cloying. Still bomb-diggity with the chocolate chips, which made it taste like chocolate chip banana bread!

I was impressed with the craftsmanship of these- they were some of the tastiest mochi I've had and lacked that rough, overly glutenous texture of their larger counterparts. They were delicate and all too easy to graze on.

Kit Kat Wasabi

In the world of thrill seeking, I am a tired old man. Preferably, one who resembles an old Allan Quatermain or, for you illiterate bastards, Colonel Mustard. Same damned thing, different build. Pith helmets make people look alike, anyhow. In the heyday of my youth I'd be brash enough to protest at the very thought of venturing less than an hour to find the world's greatest hot dog; now, I can barely muster the enthusiasm of jetting down the street to try Taco Bell's newest monstrosity of spices and dog food. As my enthusiasm for the mundane wanes to a tepid aloofness, the offerings of the world go up. And now, dissatisfied with the Americas, I turn to the Orientals to keep me amused.
Sometimes, the world can be a cruel, cold place.
And other times the fates shine upon us. This is true in the case of the wasabi-flavored Kit Kat, a condiment I am often known to eschew. Only in the humid days of summer, in the sweating, balmy walls of a sushi house quietly playing Maggie May, will I consume a blob with my delicious Philadelphia roll. However ambivalent I may be toward wasabi, Keepitcoming's enthusiasm for the stuff is tenfold. We ordered this treat on a lark from napaJapan.
The consistency of this snack is the quintessential 'Kat you all know and love, but the taste hints of exoticism with a smile. Truly, this is a snack with its feet in both worlds, but a home in neither. The wasabi flavor is gentle, much like my persistent, sweetly drunken caresses in the shadows of local watering holes, paired with a natural, powerful vanilla bean cream in and outside the bar. While the wasabi is not as powerful or as nose-clearingly intense as that of the restaurant paste, it establishes its presence as a grassy heat and makes a pungent and unique dessert. This candy is not of the ilk of shock foods, whose intense ingredients merely serve the purpose of boasting rather than bolstering the quality of the overall confection. It is far more accessible than chipotle in most desserts and should replace it as the go-to spice for sweets. I found that the flavors melded together extremely well while maintaining the integrity of each component and created a unique sensation in the mouth. Candies like this rejuvenate my élan for the absurd. With wasabi flavored Kit Kats, anything can happen.

Ninja Food - Blueberry Gummy

I got this pack of gummies from a box of assorted goods sent by the good people at J-List. In order to help possible ensure future samples of interesting Japanese snacks here’s a shameless plug for them. Everyone! Go to J-List and if you feel ever so inclined. They have all types of stuff from Japan (snacks, food, anime, games, books, and even porn) for the weeaboo in you! Damn it, ruined the plug already. If you are a weeaboo and would not mind paying extreme shipping prices to get something shipped to you from Japan, this site is probably for you. For the non-weeaboo people who actually go outside, just hit up your local Asian grocery store and save money like a boss.

Some of my actual belongings. Yeah, I'm a total badass.

From the moment I looked at the package, I knew that this strange Japanese pack of candy and I were destined to meet. After gathering and reflecting upon a few random possessions from my room, I had a strange feeling that the well dressed Ninja business man on the cover was an omen of things to come. I felt that I was looking at a future caricature of my future self as depicted by Japanese candy executives. I now think I have a great future goal to work towards. Instead of being a special agent in the FBI working to stop white collar crimes such as tax evasion or corporate embezzling I now am planning to become a ninja accountant, yup a ninja accountant.

I took that strange package to my Japanese roommate for a translation which only resulted in “Ninja Food – Blueberry”. The candies themselves looked like beans made of candy. There was probably only 15 in the package, just enough for a small candy snack break. There is no time is the life of a ninja accountant to stop and have a large amount of candy when there are statement of cash flows to complete in the shadow of darkness.

These candies tasted pretty accurately of blueberry. It didn’t taste too artificial but one could also easily tell it was a good replication. There was a thick layer of candy covering over a hard gummy center. The outer covering was a good hard candy covering, somewhat like a yogurt covered raisin, but with candy. The blueberry taste was rather heavy in the outer candy coating but tapered off when you got to the gummy center. The center was just a very chewy slightly blueberry flavored hard gummy. The gummy center was a lot harder and had semi-leather like texture compared to regular gummies that one would get.

This candy would have been better if the whole thing was just made of candy and did not have a gummy center. The gummy center was a piece of leathery disappointment after a relatively good blueberry candy. The gummy center also did not have enough taste to compensate for the leather texture.