Ah, mochi. You are such an odd little dessert, challenging people outside of Japan to understand how the tastes of sweetened green tea, red beans, or mango could perfectly end a meal. But now, as you tempt us with more familiar coffee, chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla flavors, you may begin to make sense to those who might pass you over in favor of a less authentic Japanese dessert such as "Tempura Fried Ice Cream." Can you take a moment to introduce yourself? Perhaps convince Buffalo Chow's readers of your importance and deliciousness?
"Well, to understand me, you really need to start with the rice." Okay, we should probably explain to the readers that Japanese desserts can be really weird by Western standards. Go to a Japanese bakery and you'll see that they wrap every individual slice of cake in plastic, and offer pastries that verge on the insane, like chunked up hot dogs and ketchup on a danish. But the Japanese also make outstanding sweets that are based on Western innovations, like special donuts, Pocky cookie sticks, and Mochi Ice Cream.
The Japanese part of Mochi is the special rice. If you think of pizza dough as wheat flour that's been flattened into a flat crust, Mochi is basically the same thing with sweetened rice as the flour, pounded into a flat disk that is then wrapped around a golf ball-sized scoop of ice cream. Unlike typical ice cream, a completed Mochi Ice Cream snack can be held in your fingers and chewed through from top to bottom in one bite.
"You really didn't do a very good job of explaining the rice." Sorry, Mochi Ice Cream. In this dessert, the rice is dusted with a little starch or flour to keep it from sticking to everything, as mochi is known to do, and it's in a layer that's just thick enough to be slightly chewy as you bite through it. The mochi adds a hint of rice flavor and a unique outer texture to a substantially familiar ball of ice cream. Yet like an M&M or Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, the impact of adding a second different layer to something popular can be magical.
"Okay, what about the ice cream?" This is where the Mochi Ice Cream either sinks or swims as a dessert. Early versions of the dessert from 20 years ago used crappy ice cream that was apparently good enough for some Japanese patrons, but would not have appealed to wider audiences. Today's Mochi Ice Cream uses the equivalent of hand-scooped hard serve, though it can vary in quality between manufacturers.
A company called Maeda-En has the creamiest and best coffee ice cream in its Cappuccino flavor, making this particular version of Mochi Ice Cream an ideal starting point for coffee fans. Stores including Ni Hoowa in Amherst stock the Cappuccino alongside similarly easy to love versions like strawberry. Miyakawa is the best-known U.S. vendor of Mochi Ice Cream, offering seven flavors in boxes that are generally easier to find in stores than other companies; and a California company called Sweety Novelty also sells fine versions. If you're looking for a completely different flavor, a Hawaiian company called Bubbies offers 19 flavors - most of them Westerner-friendly - by mail order.
But if you're looking for the real Japanese deal, try the green tea, red bean, or mango flavors. They - especially the green tea - tend to be even easier to find than the ones mentioned above, because they're more authentically Japanese flavors. The green tea version, regardless of who makes it, tends to be as awesome as the best manufacturers' coffee flavors... assuming that you appreciate the taste of green tea.
Regardless of flavor, the unique texture of Mochi Ice Cream is a major selling point - and a reason why many of Japan's foods transcend whatever simple descriptions, like "ice cream-infused rice balls," people might want to give to them. Once you've bitten into a ball of Mochi Ice Cream, you'll never forget it because of the way the rice and ice cream work together, one melting, the other not. Chewing ice cream has never been so fun.
"Do they know how cheap I am?" Whoa there, Mochi Ice Cream; don't sell yourself short. You're inexpensive, not cheap. A six-pack can be had for under $6, or a buck per ball. Local Japanese restaurants tend to mark them up to $1.50 or $2 each and sell them one, two or three to a place, sometimes sliced in half and garnished. We'd strongly recommend you just go to the supermarket and buy them there.
"But isn't that dangerous? I could melt." In our experience, Mochi Ice Cream tends to be safe for the typical drive home from a supermarket, just like any other frozen food. But we have - outside of Western New York - encountered a package that was melted and then refrozen before we purchased it. If this happens, don't eat it; return it and get a replacement. It's not going to look or taste right. The pictures here show how Mochi Ice Cream is supposed to look fresh out of the package, and when you've had your first bite.
"Ouch. What are you doing? Ouch!" For reasons you can probably guess, our little talk with Mochi Ice Cream has come to an abrupt end; now it's your turn to begin the discussion. Take a trip to Ni Hoowa and look in the freezers closest to the cash registers; you'll likely find three or four flavors to choose from. We may update this piece if we find other local places that offer a nice assortment of these delicious treats.
