Of all the western holidays that Japan could have imported pieces of, it’s been strangely reluctant to touch Easter.  Which is odd, given that once it’s been stripped of all its religious significance and dignity, it’s really all about the chocolate.

And so here’s what is usually a regular two-finger KitKat, now a single bar simply adorned with the smiling face of the Easter Bunny.  Job’s a good ‘un.

The KitKats are a creamy strawberry as the name suggests, but by Jove (I’m feeling very English this afternoon) they’re sweet.  And being an omiyage pack, there are a lot to get through.

What I like about these, particularly after months of being messed about by Nestlé Japan, is that there’s no finesse, no bullshit, no lofty claims and therefore no disappointment.  They are indeed chunky.  And there’s a big sticky line of caramel down the middle.

Get yer laughing gear round that.

I’m not dissing the maple flavour.  Far from it, it’s lovely.  If only it had been milk chocolate.

But of course it’s white ‘chocolate’, and a great goal-scoring opportunity has been wasted.

And I hate to be cynical, but seeing as Nestlé Japan are, I’ll play too.

There’s such a thing as over-egging the cake.  Gilding the lily.  Mashing two national treasures together for no reason other than to shift product.

As we’ve seen before, Nestlé Japan like to bang that cherry blossom drum.  And we haven’t been short of maccha editions either.

And what you get when you put them both together is neither.  It certainly tastes of both, but why?  Like opera and freefall skydiving – you may love each individually, but I can’t think of a single reason to force them together.

An ohagi is another one of those traditional sweets that I avoid, on account of it being a mochi (soft rice cake), filled with azuki beans, and coated in the aforementioned toasted soy flour.  I know.  Ideas on what constitutes sweet treats differ greatly from culture to culture.

Well, there’s very little of the ohagi, and quite a lot of the kinako, which means a lovely nutty flavour suiting the smooth milk chocolate.

By my crude rule of thumb (noting how many were left in the shop and for how long) these were not terribly popular with the locals, probably for the very reason I loved it.  It’s a nutty KitKat, not an ohagi.

Have to say, when I see a gloop of miso (to use the official term), the last thing that springs to mind is sweet sugary treats.  And oddly, when you pop one of these in your gob, the last thing that’ll spring to your mind is miso.  It’s another one of those vaguely-caramel-if-we’re-grasping-for-a-flavour editions, by no means offensive enough to scar you.  In fact won’t leave much of a mark on you at all.

We’ve had this flavour before – in the minis that came with KitKat Happy Break this time last year.  This feels a bit more luxurious though, and so it should as a Valentine’s special.

Almost a bit too bananarey (I may have to copyright that) but only almost.  Not quite as good as I remember previous incarnations of banana.  But having said that, I still managed, of the course of a few days, to finish the whole bag.  Anyone who can’t bear artificial banana flavour, and I know there are a good number of you out there, may want to steer clear.

A while back we had Royal Milk Tea, which just like this KitKat, should have been milk chocolate if anyone at Nestlé Japan were sane.  But seeing as they’re all loons, this coffee KitKat, like the tea one before, is white ‘chocolate’.

The coffee flavour though redeems it.  It has quite a punch, and is nice and bitter, almost as if there are coffee grounds in there.

Shoulda been milk chocolate tho’.