15 months in this great nation, and while I'm yet to manage a haircut or master the lingo at the most basic of levels, I have immersed myself fully in Japanese culture. I've ikebana-ed, learnt to make sushi, seen the sumo and most importantly, consumed a vast quantity of Nestle's greatest product, the humble Kit Kat.
May I present my Top 13:
We'll start with the most transparently Japanese of the flavours: Green tea (matcha). This one's available exclusively in the all-nite convenience store based in Narita Airport, hence the hideous Vietnamese bedspread pictured beneath.
The colour is mould and the flavour too slight, when you consider the potential deliciousness of the marriage of bitter matcha and sweet sweet cocoa.
Sakura matcha, or, in layman's terms, green tea with a hint o' cherry. Exquisite. I was almost mauled to death by Narese deer while walking through a herd and ripping one of these babies open. Available in Kyoto, and only in cherry blossom season, boo.
Wasabi, a Shizuokan speciality. Could definitely have used a bit more, urm, wasabi. Bit of a swizz this one. With colouring almost identical to its tastier older sister, the Matcha, it follows suit in flavour, with perhaps the merest whisper of artificially sweetened mustard aftertaste.
The Daddy of them all: This one's dark and delicious and comes in a Chunky-style bar form. Adults only.
Bitter Almond, seen here struggling to survive a Japanese summer. I know just how it feels, but I'm not half as delicious.
From the sublime to the plain disgusting: the European Cheese. A whole lot more effort has gone into producing a suitably authentic French pong. The smell is wholly realistic, but the taste, well...
Inside, hundreds of the foul tasting buggers, thousands, millions, breeding, multiplying like a horrific fungus, like bacteria like, well, cheese.
The ghostly pallor of emmenthal. Still, one whiff of this and its sayonara to European homesickness.
A change of pace now, to the malteaser-shaped "Big/Little". Note the confusing use of both English and Japanese in the product name.
Sweet potato, in bar form. The texture is somewhat akin to that of the Holy Grail, the Kit Kat Chunky. Not available in Asia. Let's take a moment to reflect on the pathos of that last statement.
Still, look how happy I am to have found one, and on the streets of Akihabara too, more commonly known for its electro gadgets, doleful-eyed, latterday geisha maids and Sexy Sex Shops.
Waiting for the last train back to the hostel, the Midnight Munchies make their presence known, and I just can't wait any longer.
Long enough to take a pic of the Almond, in bar guise, which I appear to be holding in my prosthetic hand.
Strawberry Shortcake. Short, saccharine and ultimately unfulfilling.
Pretty pale pink, though.
But let's get back on the chocolatey horse of goodness with this double whammy: the Cola/Lemonade twin pack.
With a rather anaemic brown colouring, the cola could use some work, much like the non-fizzy kind of penny sweet cola bottles. The Lemonade however is a taste sensation.
Back to the balls, of the Custard Pudding variety. The lily has officially been gilded with this disconcertingly phosphorous offering.
Less chemical in taste, and with possibly my favourite packaging of the bunch, the plain, no-nonsense, dark choc of the Semisweet is a winner.
And for the bonus round - Coconut M&Ms, all the way from Guam! Slightly soapy aftertaste. My quest for the Coconut Kit Kat continues.
Alas, the Soy Sauce, the Miso, the Ginger Ale and the Royal Milk Tea remain illusive, but that shall make them taste all the sweeter when they are mine,
May I present my Top 13:
We'll start with the most transparently Japanese of the flavours: Green tea (matcha). This one's available exclusively in the all-nite convenience store based in Narita Airport, hence the hideous Vietnamese bedspread pictured beneath.
The colour is mould and the flavour too slight, when you consider the potential deliciousness of the marriage of bitter matcha and sweet sweet cocoa.
Sakura matcha, or, in layman's terms, green tea with a hint o' cherry. Exquisite. I was almost mauled to death by Narese deer while walking through a herd and ripping one of these babies open. Available in Kyoto, and only in cherry blossom season, boo.
Wasabi, a Shizuokan speciality. Could definitely have used a bit more, urm, wasabi. Bit of a swizz this one. With colouring almost identical to its tastier older sister, the Matcha, it follows suit in flavour, with perhaps the merest whisper of artificially sweetened mustard aftertaste.
The Daddy of them all: This one's dark and delicious and comes in a Chunky-style bar form. Adults only.
Bitter Almond, seen here struggling to survive a Japanese summer. I know just how it feels, but I'm not half as delicious.
From the sublime to the plain disgusting: the European Cheese. A whole lot more effort has gone into producing a suitably authentic French pong. The smell is wholly realistic, but the taste, well...
Inside, hundreds of the foul tasting buggers, thousands, millions, breeding, multiplying like a horrific fungus, like bacteria like, well, cheese.
The ghostly pallor of emmenthal. Still, one whiff of this and its sayonara to European homesickness.
A change of pace now, to the malteaser-shaped "Big/Little". Note the confusing use of both English and Japanese in the product name.
Sweet potato, in bar form. The texture is somewhat akin to that of the Holy Grail, the Kit Kat Chunky. Not available in Asia. Let's take a moment to reflect on the pathos of that last statement.
Still, look how happy I am to have found one, and on the streets of Akihabara too, more commonly known for its electro gadgets, doleful-eyed, latterday geisha maids and Sexy Sex Shops.
Waiting for the last train back to the hostel, the Midnight Munchies make their presence known, and I just can't wait any longer.
Long enough to take a pic of the Almond, in bar guise, which I appear to be holding in my prosthetic hand.
Strawberry Shortcake. Short, saccharine and ultimately unfulfilling.
Pretty pale pink, though.
But let's get back on the chocolatey horse of goodness with this double whammy: the Cola/Lemonade twin pack.
With a rather anaemic brown colouring, the cola could use some work, much like the non-fizzy kind of penny sweet cola bottles. The Lemonade however is a taste sensation.
Back to the balls, of the Custard Pudding variety. The lily has officially been gilded with this disconcertingly phosphorous offering.
Less chemical in taste, and with possibly my favourite packaging of the bunch, the plain, no-nonsense, dark choc of the Semisweet is a winner.
And for the bonus round - Coconut M&Ms, all the way from Guam! Slightly soapy aftertaste. My quest for the Coconut Kit Kat continues.
Alas, the Soy Sauce, the Miso, the Ginger Ale and the Royal Milk Tea remain illusive, but that shall make them taste all the sweeter when they are mine,
