KitKat Big Little Matcha Azuki – KitKat Bigリトル 抹茶あずき

KitKat comes in many forms: standard, chunky, mini, individual fingers… but this is the only incarnation I’ve seen that strays from the traditional rectangular shape and branches into the hugely popular market of single-serving bagged chocolates such as Galbo and Crunky Popjoy. Big Little isn’t new – I tried the Kinako version last year – but it seems to appear suddenly in shops only to disappear again without warning, with a long hiatus before the release of the next variety. I get the feeling that perhaps Nestle is not yet fully committed to the product, and honestly, after considering this latest installment, I can see why.

The eight pieces contained in the packet, each about the size of a piece of cue chalk, are redolent of rich, strong green tea with a hint of sweet red bean, and have that deep olive green colour that I look for in matcha candy. Promising as that may be, I find the appearance rather disappointing. Every face of the cuboids is marked by blemishes and cracks that make them look like something you’d find in a 99p store marked under ‘factory clearance’. While this wouldn’t bother me normally, it just seems so at odds with the standard perfectly formed, cleanly embossed KitKat fingers, that this item feels unrecognisable as a part of the same range.

Never mind, the proof of the pudding is in the eating right? The thick chocolate layer is a little waxy and bland on the surface but creamy once it begins to melt. Milky and mild, the matcha flavour is pleasant, although the chocolate is over-sweetened and a touch sickly. I like that, with the altered chocolate-to-wafer ratio afforded by the new shape (wafer center is larger than usual), the secondary flavour contained in the sandwiched filling is more noticeable than in a typical KitKat. A side-effect of this is that the center is marginally less crisp than usual, being more thickly spread with cream filling. Unfortunately, despite the recognisable deep pink colour of the wafer, the azuki taste is too faint to compete with the sweet chocolate coating and languishes vaguely in the background. This was also the problem with the Azuki Sando KitKats I reviewed a while ago; the wafer center is too slim to allow for the addition of anything coarser than powdered azuki, which just doesn’t deliver on flavour.

I’m not condemning Nestle for trying something different, but the original KitKat fingers look so much more polished and recognisable, and already boast such a diverse range of flavours and sizes, that I just don’t see the need for Big Little, nor where it fits in. I’d still recommend trying it – who knows, maybe it’s the KitKat format you’ve always been waiting for – but I’ll stick to the rectangular bars I know and love.

5/10

KitKat Big Little Matcha Azuki  8pcs  190kcals

Funawa Ankodama – 舟和 あんこ玉

This is more of a summary than a review, but these are just so pretty and photogenic that I really wanted to have them on the blog, if only as eye candy. Based in Asakusa, Tokyo, Funawa is a well established producer of traditional Japanese confections such as sweet potato youkan and the ankodama (bean paste balls) pictured here. I’ve never had the chance to visit the shop myself but can always look forward to receiving Funawa sweets as a souvenir of my husband’s business trips to the capital.

This typical selection box contains nine spherical pieces each coated in a gleaming layer of kanten, a thick gelatinous substance made from agar agar. Effectively separated and protected by the plastic tray, the surfaces of the truffle-sized orbs are so lustrous and smooth that they look more like perspex objets d’art than edibles. The four corner pieces are all simple azuki flavour while the five that form the central cross are (top to bottom, left to right) strawberry, matcha, mikan (mandarin), shiroan (white bean paste) and coffee.

Usually I find that when it comes to introducing additional flavours into anko, the sweet, nutty azuki tends to dominate almost totally, yet Funawa blends the bean flavour perfectly with the other essences: the strawberry is fruity, the green tea lightly herbal, the mikan has good citrus notes and the coffee has a gorgeous heady roasted aroma.

The thin skin of kanten is reminiscent of the aspic used in savoury terrines, though firmer and with a hint of sugariness to it, while the inner anko ball itself is perfectly formed, with no air bubbles or graininess to detract from the rich, smooth consistency (the blemishes visible in the pictured cross-section were made by the knife I sliced them with) Soft yet very dense, one or two pieces can prove unexpectedly filling, and besides you won’t want them to disappear too quickly, as they’re almost as satisfying to look at as to consume.

If you’re in Tokyo and looking a for a sweet treat that people from all over the country are stopping in to buy, then Funawa’s the place to go. Just be sure to drop in early, as, unsurprisingly, the ankodama tend to sell out.

Otabe Namayatsuhashi – おたべ 生八つ橋

If you’ve ever been to Kyoto then you’ve probably seen namayatsuhashi, as nearly every souvenir shop displays row after row of boxes of the neatly packed triangular sweets, in every colour of the rainbow and more besides. A thin square of elastic dough, made using rice flour and sugar, folded over a glob of an (bean paste), namayatsuhashi would seem to belong to the mochi family of Japanese confectionery, yet in fact if you were to bake the outer skin you would get a kind of senbei, a crisp, crunchy rice cracker. The ‘nama’ refers to their being raw, and the cooked version, which is arch-shaped and traditionally flavoured of cinnamon, is known simply as yatsuhashi.

Namayatsuhashi are available in practically every flavour in the Japanese confectioner’s repertoire, from sweet potato to black sesame, persimmon to pumpkin, as well as western-inspired creations such as coffee and chocolate. What I’m reviewing today, however, are the more pedestrian green tea and red bean versions, an assortment of which I received recently from a kind neighbour.

Specifically, the flavours, produced by Otabe, are matcha and a second type of green tea called Uji Gyokuro. The two varieties are packaged in separate boxes of five pieces each, in the usual overlapping design (already ate two before photographing…)

The brand name is embossed into the underside of the plastic trays, so that it leaves a clear imprint on the soft skins of the namayatsuhashi, as you can see. The surfaces of both are dusted finely with kinako, a savoury soybean powder the colour of sawdust, which keeps them from sticking and also provides a pleasant toasty aroma.

Matcha consists of a green tea-flavoured dough filled with sweetened mashed red beans. The darkish mossy green hue reminds me of yomogi, a Japanese plant often used to colour breads and mochi, yet the flavour, although faint, is certainly matcha. The tsubuan center is slightly fruity and has a jammy consistency. Grains of unmashed beans with their shiny, smooth skins still intact glisten appealingly like little gems in the magenta-coloured paste. The contrast of gooey, sweet filling and powdery, chewy dough is highly satisfying.

The skins of the Uji Gyokuro are not spiced with the traditional cinnamon, and have no discernible flavour, other than a mild, somewhat bland sugariness and the savoury note of the kinako dusting. Being more finely pureed than the paste in the matcha, the translucent pale green filling is smooth and provides the same taste-progression that I’ve experienced in green tea candies: an initial honey-like sweetness followed by a lingering yet agreeable herbal aftertaste.

The dough of both the matcha and uji gyokuro is gorgeously soft and chewy but not at all stodgy, although I found that after a few days it began to dry out and lose its flavour, even before reaching the use-by date (though to be fair I didn’t store them in an airtight container).

When I first ate these, on the day I was given them, I found them absolutely delicious; perfectly fresh and soft. I’ve since eaten them twice more but found myself a little less satisfied each time. With namayatsuhashi texture is just as important as flavour and once the dough begins to dry out they’re almost not worth keeping. At the peak of freshness I would have given them a 7 or 8 out of 10 but on reflection I feel that for me these didn’t really surpass the level of ‘pleasant’, and thus I award them:

6/10

Limited-edition KitKats: Yatsuhashi, Houjicha and Azuki Sando – KitKat：八つ橋・ほうじ茶・あずきサンド味

As I mentioned in a quick post a while ago, I bought a load of limited edition chocolates when I last visited Kansai, in particular three new varieties of KitKat (all mini size), which is what I’m showcasing today.

First, Houjicha flavour (yellow packet):

I’m not very knowledgeable about tea but this houjicha, or roasted green tea, is apparently from Kyuuemon, in Kyoto. The biscuit has almost no scent and, although it may be hard to tell from the picture, it is a strange murky khaki colour, neither very appetising nor particularly reminiscent of tea. Despite this, a mild, non-herbal tea flavour comes through as the milky chocolate melts and compliments the sweetness nicely, and this flavour is carried through to the cream sandwiched between the wafers.

Next, Yatsuhashi Biscuit (red packet):

Yatsuhashi, a cinnamon-flavoured treat which is a famous product of Shougoin, Kyoto, can come baked in the form of a crisp, arch-shaped wafer

or in its raw form, as a soft triangle of thin mochi folded over a paste filling, such as azuki or chestnut. (Above photograph is not mine! Credit to this site: http://www.gurum.biz/articles/18964.html)

This KitKat incorporates the crunchy, biscuit-type sweet, as shown on the box. As soon as I opened the packet I was hit by a very strong, almost overwhelming smell of cinnamon but thankfully it does not taste too heavily spiced and in fact the cinnamon blends smoothly with the chocolate, which is delicately flavoured with kinako. When you bite into it you get the pleasant crunch of the biscuit fragments in the creamy chocolate before reaching the flaky wafer center, which provides that oh-so addictive smooth/crunchy contrast that will have you reaching for a second bar.

Last but not least, Azuki Sando:

I bought this in Nagoya airport and it’s a limited edition product for the Toukai/Hokuriku regions. I’ve never tried the toasted red bean snack pictured on the box, but I must have eaten just about everything else azuki-related so I knew what to expect.

The distinctive earthy azuki scent hits you when you open the wrapper and the flavour comes through strongly as you eat the bar, especially if you let it melt in your mouth. True to the product name the inner structure mimics a sandwich, with layers of pale pink azuki cream in between the usual wafers.

It would have been nice if the cream was a richer red colour, like the beans themselves, but the taste was good and certainly different from anything I’ve had before.

***

This weekend I’ll be taking a short road trip around Hokkaido (Toyako, Furano and Sapporo) so hopefully next time I’ll have some Hokkaido edition candies to write about^^