Japanese Kitkat & Kitkat-Matcha Greentea free shipping
Expand
I might
have ordered a few more things as well. I might have spent more than
$150 altogether, but that would be silly and completely out of character
for me.
Setting
aside the unrelated snacks for a later date, I tore into that brilliant
red box, where the untold mysteries lurked behind 15 cardboard cutouts.
The Kit Kat is one of Japan's most popular chocolate snacks, due in no
small part to the name, which sounds like kitto katsu, or "you'll surely
win" (thanks again, JBox!)
Expand
Opening the
first window in this treasure trove was a special moment for me, the
realization of a dream that's probably not as life-long as I made it out
to be in the opening paragraph, but still pretty lengthy.
What did I discover inside? Such wonders, my friends—such wonders.
Fruits
The
Japanese do not f*** around with fruit. When they put a picture of a
piece of colorful produce on a package, you can bet your ass that
whatever is inside the package tastes like the picture in a way that
similarly-wrapped American foods hardly ever do.
Strawberry see more details
When it
comes to fruits the Japanese do not f*** around with, Strawberry is the
most unf***-aroundable. The strawberry is a symbol of innocence and
sweetness to Japan, largely due to the fact that it looks incredibly
cute when you give it arms and googly eyes. They put them on cakes. They
put them on clothing. They create robots to pick the best strawberries. It's their jam. Also, it's in their jam.
Unwrapping
the strawberry Kit Kat is like opening the doors to an oddly indoor
strawberry orchard. The sweet scent washes over you, a Beatles song
starts playing, and the pink sticks leap from your hand into your mouth
unheeded.
At first
the taste is like any American strawberry/white chocolate mixture,
overwhelmingly sweet and cloying. Then a mildly surprising fruit tang
hits you. Then it all fades, leaving a fleeting memory of taste and a
slightly gritty feeling in your mouth. It's like love.
Citrus Golden Blend
Ever had a
lemon cooler cookie, the kind with the powdered sugar? The Citrus Golden
Blend Kit Kat starts off exactly like one of those. There's a cool,
fresh feeling to the orange-coated wafers that carries me back to better
days, when I could sit with a box of cookies in front of the television
and convince myself that their association with fruit somehow makes
them healthier.
And then
there's the kick. The flavor goes from cooling cookie to sharp citrus
gum. It's quite unexpected, like being stabbed in the mouth with a shiv
carved out of an orange peel. Surprise, there is more citrus in this
candy than there is in a glass of orange juice, without all those nasty
health benefits.
Pear
Pear is a
subtle taste. You bite into a pear and the cool, sweet taste teases but
never quite fulfills. It's a tantalizing dance that the Jelly Belly
people failed to grasp in creating the Juicy Pear jelly bean—the pear
flavor in those is so abrupt and concentrated it's almost vulgar.
The pear
Kit Kat does an amazing job of capturing the subtlety of the fruit. The
trick is the white chocolate base, which serves as a fleeting messenger
from pear-ville. The hint comes and then is lost, leaving you hungry for
more. One of my favorites of the bunch.
Shinshu Apple see more details
I love
apples. Fresh apples, baked apples, apples with cinnamon, apples with
caramel. I'm not a drinker, but I love apple-flavored alcohol. I use
apple-scented body wash. The only apple product I cannot stand is
apple-scented hair spray, the kind all the cute girls were crazy for
back in the late 80s.
The Shinshu apple Kit Kat tastes exactly like that hair spray.
The dark
chocolate base does an admirably job of holding back the chemical taste,
but in the end it falls to the pungent power. Were this a hard candy it
might taste like an apply Jolly Rancher, but it's not and it doesn't.
Very disappointed.
Veggies
Edamame Soybean
My wife
describes the Edamame Soybean Kit Kat, a grisly green affair that would
never make the cut in North America for the visual alone, as
"refreshing." She's not right.
I love
edamame as much as the next mildly hip guy, but this piece of candy
doesn't quite capture the taste of an immature pod of soybeans. It
smells nutty—not a pleasant nutty, but an overwhelming nutty. I feel
like I should be allergic to this, and I am not allergic to anything.
The taste
is reminiscent of white chocolate-covered almonds, which isn't a bad
taste. I think the color is just ruining it for me.
Purple Sweet Potato see more details
I have
absolutely no frame of reference here, having never tasted either a
purple sweet potato or whatever the pile of purple goo is on the wrapper
of the purple sweet potato Kit Kat.
My mind
gave me hints of blueberry as I chewed this light purple sliver of
coated wafer, though I'm certain that was just my imagination
compensating for color again. The unimagined portion of the taste was
light and incredibly sweet—too sweet for my tastes.
Here's an excerpt from the notes I took while eating. "Too sweet. Lingers far too long. Must drink to cleanse palate.
WILL NOT GO AWAY." That doesn't sound good.
WILL NOT GO AWAY." That doesn't sound good.
Hot Japanese Chili
Hot peppers
and chocolate are one of the modern world's finest snacking
combinations. Here in America we regularly use chipotle or ancho chilies
with dark chocolate, resulting in a mild burn largely muted by the
sinful bitter sweetness.
I don't
know what kind of chili the Japanese are using, but the burn is
absolutely exquisite. There's an expert balance of dark chocolate to
chili here. At first you don't think the sensation is going to come.
Then you feel a slight tickle. Finally it ignites your mouth, not so
much that you reach for a glass of water—just enough to make you
remember that you brought this on yourself.
Baked Goods
What better way to accent a baked wafer than making it taste like other baked things?
Cinnamon Cookie
This one's
almost unfair. Cinnamon is another favorite of mine, right up there with
apple, and it's incredibly easy to work with, especially where white
chocolate is involved.
The scent
is intoxicating, wafting from the candy like a warm wave. The taste
isn't overwhelming, just a perfect little bite of cinnamon cookie,
comforting and delicious.
I'd declare it the winner, but it's cheating and there is no real winner here, except for my mouth.
Kitkat Strawberry Cheesecake
This is
definitely cheating. By altering the mix of strawberry flavor to white
chocolate from the proper strawberry Kit Kat, Nestlé hopes to achieve a
flavor akin to strawberry-covered cheesecake. My mouth is not fooled so
easily, Nestlé.
It's a
pleasant piece of candy with a muffled strawberry taste. On the plus
side it loses the grittiness of its full-fruit counterpart. On the minus
side, it comes off a tease. The other Kit Kats talk behind this one's
back.
Blueberry Cheesecake
Without
tasting a proper blueberry Kit Kat I cannot tell you if this is the same
experience as the strawberry cheesecake is to its fruity offspring.
What I can
say is I probably wouldn't enjoy a full blueberry Kit Kat as much as I
do this muffled version. It's exactly the amount of blueberry I can
stand—no more, no less.
Beverages
Here in
America tea is for drinking or tossing into the bay to protest unfair
taxation. It's not something we look to when we want to flavor ice
cream, candy or chocolate. I'm have it on completely-imagined good
authority that the Japanese regularly bathe in tea.
Matcha-Green Tea
The Matcha-Green Tea tastes like grass. Sweetened grass with a slightly bitter aftertaste, but grass nonetheless.
My wife,
who works at Starbucks, tells me this is exactly what Matcha-Green Tea
is supposed to taste like. She even named it in a blind taste test.
That's good for fans of green tea, I suppose. I do not count myself
among their numbers.
Hojicha Roasted Tea
There is
some sort of magic going on here. The Hojicha Roasted Tea Kit Kat does
not merely taste like a dark tea—it tastes roasted. You can taste smoke
and heat—not burning pepper heat, just general warmth. It's quite
disconcerting.
What's also
disconcerting is the smell. These smell like dry flake fish food. That
is not a first impression you want a food product to make.
Brown Sugar Syrup
So much sweetness. So much maple flavor. Can't go on.
I don't
know what the Japanese use brown sugar syrup for. I assume it goes into
beverage or on desserts, so I placed it in the drink section. I would
not drink it. I would not eat this.
Some flavors are better left to the Japanese. This is one of them.
The Weird Stuff
Weird stuff? From Japan? I'm just as shocked as you guys are.
Red Bean Sandwich
This is absolutely the worst-tasting candy bar I have ever had the misfortune to insert in my mouth-hole.
I'm am down
with red bean paste. I quite enjoy it in a warm steamed bun. There's a
playful sweetness to it that really appeals to me. If you gave me a jar
of it I'd probably make a red bean sandwich right here, without even
thanking you for it.
The Red
Bean Sandwich Kit Kat carries hints of that sweetness, but it's hidden
behind a smoky flavor that I can only describe as well-used ashtray. It
tastes like I put out a cigarette on my tongue and then ate a proper
American chocolate Kit Kat. There is no combination of those things that
would ever taste good.
Wasabi
Being hot
like wasabi when I bust rhymes (and big like LeAnne Rimes), I had high
hopes for this gorgeous green piece of candy, and the wasabi Kit Kat did
not disappoint.
It smells
of horseradish, which is not a smell I would traditionally enjoy from a
chocolate-covered confection. If this were any other candy I would
assume this was some sort of cruel joke. It is no joke.
It's wasabi
plus sweetness, which would not work at all if not an amazing bit of
chocolate engineering on Nestlé's part. That trademark burn has been
transformed from feeling to flavor. You do not feel the heat. You taste
the heat.
This is
almost impossible to explain, so I won't try. I'll just say that the
wasabi Kit Kat is an experience every chocolate candy connoisseur should
have before they are melted away by the sun.
Thank reviews from http://kotaku.com
$20.97 & FREE Shipping
Japanese Kit Kat - Shinshu Apple Chocolate Box 5.2oz (12 Mini Bar)
ความคิดเห็น
แสดงความคิดเห็น