#47 - Azuki Daifuku

When people learn that I review sweets (whether through word of mouth or because I've actually ventured out into the real world), they generally respond in one of two ways:

1. Instantly and completely disregarding and/or forgetting the trivial information.
2. Solemnly vowing to introduce me to some extraordinary and unusual candy that they have (or haven't) tried before.

With the passage of time, then, it was inevitable that my loyal army of candy procurement operatives should grow. And it has.

The latest addition to my trusty team has already demonstrated his creativity and dedication, enlisting in the marines just so he could travel the world in search of sugary goodies for me (which showed remarkable foresight, considering it was years before I had even thought about reviewing candies).

Sadly, the rigors of military life proved more distracting than anticipated, and he forgot to bring any samples back. Undaunted, he booked a trip to Disney World (perhaps not as noble as joining the military, but, hey, it's something) to see what Epcot (that's no moon...) had to offer.

As it turns out, it had Azuki Daifuku.

Whatever they are, there are eight of 'em. That much is certain (I think).

At a glance, I was taken aback; the clear packaging was devoid of any apparent branding (aside from a sticker on the front that I cannot read), and, for all I knew, the objects inside could have been the eggs (or eyeballs) of some endangered species (in which case I'd probably feel pretty bad for eating them). So there is really no package design to speak of.

I guess it's nice each item has its own little cubby. That's something.

Checking the back, I noticed no mention of a manufacturer, either, just a note explaining that the product was imported from Japan by Ikko International Trading, LLC, which does not list said product on its website.

Very mysterious, indeed... I was starting to wonder if this really did come from Epcot or was some sort of top secret military experiment I was to become a part of.

No matter, I had to do my due diligence and continue with the usual formalities of the review. So I took a closer look at the back.

I don't know which info here is the least useful.

The first thing to catch my eye was the tiny "best before" sticker. The concise "5.31" would indicate that either these things are going to last until 2031 (unlikely) or that the shelf life is less than twelve months and so they felt specifying a year was unnecessary. To an extent, that limits the usefulness of providing a date at all; if the package is misplaced and found fourteen or so months later, who will know whether or not the items in question are still okay to eat (I suppose if they were eggs they'd have hatched by then)?

Anyhow, the date here tells me that either they are still good, or that they're no less than eleven months expired. Thanks for that.

Directly beneath the sticker was the nutritional information and name: "RICE CAKE (AZUKI DAIFUKU)." So this is what Japan considers a rice cake. It's a far cry from what I'm used to, but they've been making 'em that way for a long time, so that's on me; we Americans are generally stupidly ignorant of Asian cuisines, so much so that cartoon importers do not think we can tell the difference between doughnuts and rice balls.

According to Wikipedia, "daifuku" translates as "great luck," and the "azuki" part refers to the beans used in making the sweet red bean paste (a phrase which grows less appetizing with each new word). I think the implication is thus: "You are about to eat a rice cake filled with bean paste. Good luck!"

From a nutritional standpoint, there's not much to the "cakes." They are mostly just sugar with a bit of protein and an even smaller bit of sodium. And rather than describe a serving size as two cakes (in other words, there are 102.3 Calories per cake), they chose to present the consumer with a challenge, giving the size in mass and then nonchalantly revealing that there are four servings per container. Very sly, Ikko International Trading, LLC (or whoever is responsible for the label; I'm not entirely sure about any of this).

The ingredients list is below the nutrition data:

Translation: sweet death.

Since daifuku is not really candy in the usual (American) sense, the ingredients list is noticeably out of the ordinary. Most of the less common ingredients (maltose and trehalose, to name two) are sugars, as the nutritional content would imply. One exception is cassava, the root of a shrub that made Time's "Top 10 Most Dangerous Foods" list in 2010.

So once again I am putting my very life at risk for you, my loyal reader(s). I hope you appreciate that.

Additionally, the allergy section mentions the presence of egg, which for some reason was omitted from the list itself. I'll never understand how these things work.

Or maybe the "contains egg" refers to the fact that the "cakes" really are the eggs of some endangered species after all, and the whole "rice cake" thing is simply a euphemism (like "sweetbreads," which are literally awful (or is that "offal"?), or Rocky Mountain oysters, which are... well, not oysters).

As much as I would have liked to try and hatch the potential eggs, that goal flies in the face of my primary objective, which is to review sweets and other consumables, so I carefully opened the package and removed one of the "cakes."

It's like the toy in a box of Cracker Jack.

It was at this point that I discovered a desiccant contained within the package, which implies that Azuki Daifuku does best in a dry environment (which makes sense). At least I think it was a desiccant; the "do not eat" could have been a warning about the rice cakes from some rebel factory worker on a mission to save mankind.

But the cake was certainly interesting. It was squishy, much like a stress ball (though I'd not recommend using one as a stress ball unless you want a hand full of bean paste) or the egg (or eyeball) of some endangered species. The bottom had molded itself to the shape of its cubby, which seemed more an accident than a design choice (I suppose it doesn't really matter either way). Its smell was somewhere between rice and sugar. And there was a puckering of sorts at the bean paste injection site (a phrase I've never had to use before) that I found... less than appealing.

My first bite was likewise an interesting experience; the consistency was chewy, but not tough, and my taste buds suggested that the flavor had hints of both rice pudding and marshmallow peeps, which I probably should have (but had not) expected. It combined with the sweet red bean paste filling to provide a new and unique mixture of tastes to my uncultured palate.

 And perhaps it is an acquired taste. I don't think my senses really knew what to make of it and I was left in a state of ambivalence; it was sort of good (not great), but the flavor profile was maybe too unfamiliar for me to really enjoy it as I should have.

Let me put it this way: if I were served one at a dinner party (pretend I get invited to those) or Asian restaurant, I would eat another with no qualms, but if I came across one at a buffet, I'd save the space in my stomach for a more worthy occupant.

Therefore, I feel Azuki Daifuku falls just short of my qualifications for a 2 and must be rated an unfortunate 1. I'm very glad to have been given the opportunity to try this Japanese delicacy, but it's not something I would expect to ever crave.

Still, I in no way would dissuade others from trying it themselves; it's nothing to be afraid of, and many would arrive at an alternate conclusion (my sister-in-law, who has more of a flair for Asian cuisine, really enjoyed the sample I gave her). Plus, I'm pretty sure no endangered animals were harmed in the making of this product (or this blog).

So sign up for the military today for your chance to try this and other exciting treats!

Or just go to Disney World. The choice is yours.

Wishing you great luck (though not necessarily in rice cake form),
The Sweets Fiend
 

Rice and beans. And sugar. It's practically a dessert taco.