飲める〇〇に怒り

This Week's Treat: A Chestnut Manju That Bears Anri's Name

The gift this week is a seasonal-limited chestnut manju called "Anri" from Yamadaya Manju, a long-established wagashi shop founded in Ehime Prefecture in 1867. The manju pairs fragrant domestic chestnuts with Hokkaido-grown white bean paste, wrapped in a soft, moist dough — and each individual piece of wrapping paper is printed with the name "Anri." Upon learning it shared her name, Anri was ecstatic from the moment she opened the box, exclaiming, "It's like there are two of us since I'm Anri-in!" The two heaped on praise — "More chestnut than chestnut itself," "the white bean paste lifts the chestnut; there's not a single unnecessary flavor" — and laughed that despite telling themselves to eat slowly, they ended up wolfing it down.

Tanabe shared that she first encountered Yamadaya Manju seven years ago when a coworker, Sakai-san, had a baby. She ate all the manju that had been set out and took the rest home, only to hear that Sakai-san's mother had worried: "I wonder if Tanabe-san got enough."

Realizing It's Autumn Through Food

From the manju conversation the two moved naturally to autumn food. Tanabe offered her theory: "Autumn sneaks up on you and ends before you know it. Things like chestnuts, saury, and sweet potato exist so you can realize it's actually autumn right now." She added a climate note: "Last year there was no autumn — it was summer, summer, summer, then suddenly winter. The emotional texture of Japan's four seasons is being lost. But at least we still have chestnuts."

Tanabe also shared her current autumn food routine. Having missed out on FamilyMart's calzone (sweet potato and cheese filling) last year when it sold out due to a massive buzz, she now stockpiles it. She has also made 7-Eleven's kabocha pudding a seasonal staple, and has become fond of pairing ready-made kabocha salad with Kiri cream cheese — eating each separately in the same mouthful.

Tanabe Falls Into the Cheese Pit

Tanabe confessed to being completely hooked on solid cheese. She finishes an entire box of Snow Brand's six-piece camembert in a single day, and has the position so memorized she can reach for a piece while lying on her back without looking. "I haven't dropped one on my face yet," she noted. She brought Seijo Ishii smoked cheese as a gift for Anri and also swears by Lawson's camembert-filled Rockpea Cheese.

She recounted a post-show outing to Gusto where she had firmly resolved not to order any cheese — yet ended up unconsciously adding parmesan to her pasta and mascarpone to her dessert pancake. Her colleague Makoto scolded her: "I'm not going to stop you anymore." Tanabe laughed it off: "I had no idea I'd ordered it — I really can't help myself."

The Rage Against Drinkable French Toast and Pancakes

A listener mail from "Pitichi-san" set up the episode's main theme: these days many cafés aim to make French toast and pancakes that are physically liquid-smooth and jiggly, yet there are surely many people who want French toast they can actually chew.

Both Anri and Tanabe agreed completely. They explained that the word "drinkable" (nomeru) originally means "so delicious it disappears in an instant" — when food reporters use it, the sense is "I could practically drink it." The problem is that cafés are now aiming to make something literally drinkable from the outset. "It's fine if something ends up drinkable as a result of pursuing deliciousness. But setting out to make it drinkable from the start has the order backwards." Tanabe pressed the point: "French toast has the word 'toast' in it — it should be chewed, with the texture of bread. If you could drink flour, that would be a problem."

They also observed that this trend is driven by social media and outlets constantly demanding "the next new thing." Anri pointed out that Tanabe herself, as a food reporter, has introduced new products one after another — to which Tanabe admitted with a wry smile: "You're right, I was the White Tower — I walked and everyone followed." Their conclusion: "Progress won't stop, but the pace is too fast. We need to value things that once became popular instead of moving on so quickly."

The Problem of Instant Ramen Portions Being Too Small

Listener mail from "Donatsu-san" shifted the topic: as a once-every-one-or-two-months treat, instant ramen feels like too little — they wish manufacturers would add 20 more grams of noodles.

Anri surprised both the listener and Tanabe by revealing she has always used two packets as one serving, ever since she was a child. Tanabe, on the other hand, grew up in a household where her mother, younger brother, and she split two packets among the three of them, making up the difference with snacks.

The conversation then moved to toppings. Tanabe advised: "If you boil vegetables together with the noodles, the water they release dilutes the broth — stir-fry them first and place them on top." Anri described turning shin ramyun into a hot-pot-style dish by loading it up with satsuma-age fish cake, kimchi, cheese, meat, and sausage. But for Sapporo Ichiban shio ramen, the consensus was the opposite: "That flavor is one of a kind — nothing extra should go in. Just egg-flower swirl and toasted sesame seeds. That's the peak."