Ode to a Japanese Confection

A month ago my life changed.

Historians will no doubt be able to look back at the twentieth century and note that the archipelago of Japan lay claim to a disproportionate share of the period's greatest achievements. From the DVD player, to Dance Dance Revolution, to the self-heating toilet-cum-bidet, innovations from the Land of the Rising Sun have changed the way we exercise, view movies, and defecate.

But I believe that the greatest Japanese innovation is not a technological one but a culinary one - and I don't mean anything as mundane as sushi, or wasabi peas, or Pocky. Rather, I am talking about the dessert that has stolen my heart from my fiance, the veritable queen of the frozen food section.

I am speaking of mochi.

Trying to explain what mochi is to the unexalted is like explaining a waterfall to someone who has lived in the desert their entire life. Saying that mochi is a ball of ice cream covered with glutinous rice cake is too prosaic. It can't convey how the two textures blend seamlessly on the tongue, or how the mochi is dusted with a layer of rice flour that makes the cake smooth as a baby's skin.

Mochi makers understand the treasure they must protect. They package it in an appropriately elegant (and compulsive) Japanese fashion, in individual pods wrapped in plastic. You pop them out onto your plate...and like all good things you have to wait a little while.

You wait for the innards defrost just enough so that you can cut into it with a fork. Unlike most frozen treats, like a popsicle or a Klondike bar, mochi have freezer burn protection - the rice cake disperses the cold and soothes the tongue.
As such, the mochi is an edible kiss - sensual and delicious. And it's relatively low fat!

Yeah, men had better watch out.