Must-Eat Foods in Japan — Sweets Edition: Part 1 of 3

Date: 2018-08-01

The Sweet Things

This is the third instalment in the must-eat Japan series — and the one readers have been waiting for.

Ajari Mochi — Mangetsu, Kyoto (est. 1856)

Mangetsu confectionery was founded in 1856; the Ajari Mochi was introduced by its second generation owner in 1922. The name "Ajari" refers to a high-ranking Buddhist monk, and the shape is modelled on the wide-brimmed kasa hat such monks wore.

The mochi: an egg-enriched rice-flour skin, lightly grilled until fragrant and faintly golden. Inside, a smooth but not over-processed red bean paste — restrained in sweetness, with just enough to register. Skin and filling meet in the mouth in a way that is genuinely difficult to describe. The companion drink is Kyoto-style hojicha (roasted green tea). The combination is complete.

To buy without queuing: at Kyoto Station's Isetan department store in the evening, queues of 50 or more people are normal. Instead, go inside the Shinkansen gates — both sides of the main corridor have shops that stock Ajari Mochi. Box sizes: 5-piece (suitable for two people on the train) and 10-piece. If you arrive after 6pm, there is a good chance the stock is freshly made from that afternoon's delivery — slightly warm, more fragrant than usual.

I grew up disliking sweet bean paste. Ajari Mochi changed that. I have loved it for fifty years and it remains my single favourite wagashi.

Matcha and Hojicha Cake Buffet — Imperial Hotel Osaka (Summer Limited)

Matcha is now fashionable worldwide. When the Imperial Hotel Osaka offered an all-you-can-eat matcha and hojicha cake buffet — in collaboration with Fukujuen, a Kyoto tea specialist — I went immediately.

The selection: 15 types of cake, 5 ice cream and soft-serve options, 12 savoury dishes, 3 types of bread, and fruit. Each item was one-bite size, so it was possible to try everything.

Seated guests were first served cold-brewed green tea — a vivid, clear green. Tea samples and explanations of the teas used that day were placed on each table.

Savoury highlights: the hotel's Bolognese sauce (a nostalgic richness — the kind only a hotel kitchen produces), prawn pilaf, and a beef consommé served in a small cup. The consommé was the kind of thing that cannot be replicated at home — concentrated, clear, deep. I would have liked it in a bowl three times that size.

Despite multiple trips to the buffet, I could not finish everything and never reached the ice cream section. Full, satisfied, and happy. The venue was a ground-floor lounge surrounded by trees — unusually calming for a hotel in the middle of the city.

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