#27 - Kabaya Puchi Pasuteru

Newton's first law of motion states (to put it in technical terms) that stuff keeps doing what it's doing unless something else messes with it.  While it is not meant to apply to human nature, it often does anyhow; I had not reviewed a candy in some time, and I have continued not reviewing candy for some time.

I am a slow moving creature.  Granted, I'm not so slow that algae grows in my hair (though who wouldn't want a personal travel-sized garden?), but it takes considerable effort to get me into motion.  Perhaps this would explain my tendency to procrastinate; I have a long, pitiable history of procrastination, many examples of which end with a fruitless vow to change my ways.

Reiterating what I've just said (in case you suffer from short-term memory loss), I procrastinate.  Unsurprisingly, procrastination and candy reviews make for a lousy match.  This is because sweets are food products (well, one ingests them, at any rate), and food, like one's favorite television show or movie series, will go bad if given enough time.  In other words, if I'm not careful, one of my candies might slip beyond its "best before" date without my notice.

Such was the case (oops) with today's selection, Kabaya's Puchi Pasuteru:

Unlike me, this box appears to be bursting with excitement (and fanciful chocolate treats)!

I'm no stranger to Kabaya (I'm a passing acquaintance; a friend of a friend of a friend, one might say); I reviewed a panda treat of sorts (I'm still not sure of the actual name) last summer, which I quite enjoyed, so I'm looking forward to sampling more of what they have to offer.  If the artwork on the box is any indication, I'm in for something special!

In traditional Japan fashion, the packaging is instantly appealing to anyone who loves color, cutesy animals, and/or treasure chests (so, just about everyone in the world).  Because I lack the basic skills of a typical Japanese child, I'm having trouble wrapping my head around what the various shapes stuffed with orbs are all about, but it sure does look like a good time!  The large "2" in the bottom corner would seem to imply that there are two of something inside, which means twice the fun, no doubt.

My Japanese-to-English dictionary suggests "Puchi Pasuteru" translates to "small pastel."  Not the best name, perhaps, but at least it makes some sense (there being some small pastel portions to the treats and whatnot), which is more than I can say for some other candies I've reviewed.

This takes me to my happy place.

An ice cream cone theme is evident (crunchy ice cream, if the graphic is to be believed), and the apparent number of unique chocolate molds is staggering!  As someone who is fond of candies with a dose of visual whimsy, I applaud Kabaya for their concept and package design.  Whether an ice cream vendor bear is offering a scrumptious-looking candy cone or a noseless ghost bear (with a belly full of ice cream, no less) is hitching a ride on an ice-cream powered rocket ship, there is no shortage of wacky illustrations to delight and amuse the consumer.

The art style and box configuration are more than a little reminiscent of Every Burger, so much so that my mind was convinced that it was another Kabaya product.  But it wasn't.  I am so easily fooled!  Still, I suspect there was a mutual third party (or copycat) involved somewhere along the line, because, inside and out, the two products would prove to be kindred spirits, if not related by blood (I use the expression figuratively; ideally, there should be no blood in either product).

The "best before" date was clearly displayed on one edge of the box (just under the ghost bear cheerfully slipping on some invisible substance/object), with a mysterious "LK" beside it.  Manufacturers often have such codes sharing space with the supplied date; I'm sure they have their reasons (possibly just to keep me wondering).

This image will forever haunt me.

I've missed the date by more than a month.  Ugh.  Seeing Noseless Ghost Bear smiling there so obliviously just adds to my pain and shame.

Fortunately, those pesky dates on candy packages are nothing more than recommendations, so I see no reason to believe that the goodies within my box of Puchi Pasuteru will be in anything less than stellar (or interstellar, if you're riding an ice cream rocket) condition.

 The back of the box contains some additional artwork and a bounty of information, including the love child of a hippopotamus and a crow squawking web addresses (it is apparently throwing its voice, as well, since the information appears behind it) and some Puchi Pasuteru mathematics (if I'm not mistaken, it refers to the possible shape/color combinations of the candy, unless it's some kind of Candytopia currency converter or something).

The back is also where one would find the nutrition facts panel and ingredients list (with the American version being supplied via a sticker):

This is without a doubt the least interesting portion of the packaging.

There is nothing out of the ordinary or unexpected for a snack of this variety, aside from the fact that Japanese candy manufacturers seem to be more precise in their measurements; the Americanized data is all rounded, for better or for worse.  The ingredients, too, are all par for the course, if a tad vague in parts.  I am curious, however, what is being covered up by the sticker.  I get the feeling it may offer a full explanation of the background and intent of the candy (not that I could read it even if it weren't covered).  The Japanese excel at writing entertaining stories behind their products and coming up with... interesting... ideas you won't find anywhere else.  I can only imagine the tale Puchi Pasuteru has to tell.  Actually, I can't imagine it; Japanese inspiration is well beyond my understanding.

I did not eat both pouches in one sitting.  I'm so proud of myself.

Opening the box revealed another Every Burger déjà vu moment: the two individually wrapped servings (which at last displayed the two bears together, bringing to light the disturbing possibility that the ghost bear had been a child in life) were packaged in a manner all but identical to that of the Bourbon candy.  Even the inside of the box bore a striking resemblance.  There is no denying the uncanny similarity.

Speaking of the inside of the box, a fellow sweets blogger (specializing in Japanese delicacies) writes about the box opening to reveal a fortune-telling game of sorts.  My package, however, included what looked to be a board game (a fact that sadly did not occur to me until after all of the chocolate game pieces were consumed), so it would seem that either Kabaya occasionally updates the Puchi Pasuteru or that there are at least two versions of the treat.  This is a fine example of Kabaya's dedication to making fun an important aspect of the Puchi Pasuteru experience.  Not many candies come with free entertainment, simple though it may be.

Free at last!

Things had so far been going swimmingly, so I decided to release the miniature "ice cream cones" from their protective prison of foil...

The familiar aroma of low-grade chocolate (which, to be honest, is not a bad smell) filled the air as the contents spilled out of their former abode.  Naturally, I was eager to see what shapes and colors I had received.  As it turns out, I did not get much variation in the chromatic sense; I believe I had only three of the five possible colors.  Still, that's part of the enjoyment of Puchi Pasuteru: the random assortment enclosed allows each bag to be a unique venture.

The package did contain a plethora of different "cone" forms.  The chocolate took to the molds with an admirable effort, given its dubious quality and the size of the individual pieces; while not clean and polished, the numerous designs were readily recognizable, and it really was a pleasant diversion identifying each of them.  Kabaya has pulled out all the stops in attempting to create a fun, lighthearted atmosphere with this product, and I would say they have succeeded on all fronts.

But would the taste be as delightful, or are all the bells and whistles simply a clever means of distraction from a mediocre candy?  It was time to pop one into my organic flavor analyzer (i.e., my mouth) for assessment...

The usual suspects.

Now, at every major commercial holiday season, budget candy manufacturers materialize, as if out of thin air, offering attractive-looking holiday-themed sugary wares at temptingly low prices.  By and large, these products fail to live up to the expectations conjured up by their packaging and overall appearance.

I am sorry to say that Puchi Pasuteru left me with just such an impression after my first piece.  And second piece.  And so on and so forth.  The contrast between the solid chocolate and crunchy "ice cream" orbs was a welcome feature, but my suspicions regarding the quality of the chocolate itself proved true.  It was the cheap, waxy type one comes across in countless off-brand sweets.  For all its flash and sparkle, Puchi Pasuteru is rather bland.

To be fair, it is presented as neither sophisticated nor luxurious, and I did enjoy finishing off each and every unique bite (I don't mind an occasional visit to the lower echelons of the chocolate universe), but it is still a disappointment that so charming a product should fall so short of its potential (yet another "Every Burger moment").  Clearly, one would purchase this candy more for the experience than for the flavor.  Taking that into consideration, its marketing seems on point.

In the end, I rate Kabaya's Puchi Pasuteru a 2.  It is an amusing product that would likely be alluring to a child (or child at heart), but cannot be taken too seriously as a legitimate candy.  It's unfortunate, too, as even a slight bump in quality would go a long way in making this a more formidable product.

Alas, I don't expect that to happen anytime soon.  They'll probably just keep on doing what they've been doing.

I blame Newton.

'Til procrastination once again loosens its steely grip,
The Sweets Fiend

CAUTION: Cone may melt before ice cream.