Mizu Shingen Mochi (Inspiration for Raindrop Cake) soil as ‘the raindrop cake’, the dessert is so lost in translation that, clear appearance aside, it bears no resemblance, linguistically or texturally, to the confection that inspired it. Once this version of shingen mochi lands on U.S. The only link between the two confections is a clear appearance and gelled texture. In the case of mizu shingen mochi, there is no rice nor does it have the chewy, marshmallow mouthfeel characteristic of mochi. The term “cake” was never meant to be taken literally much like Japanese people use ‘mochi’ to refer to any food that has the same texture of the rice-based confection. Interestingly, Mizu Shingen Mochi translates from Japanese as “the water cake”. (It helped that it’s also vegan and almost calorie-free.) The cake retains its shape for only 30 minutes at room temperature which is why the dessert can only be eaten at two Japanese shops. Made with water from the southern Japanese Alps and gelled with kanten, it was first introduced as a seasonal dessert in 2014 and hailed by Japanese foodies for its pristine Zen aesthetic. The modified version, Mizu Shingen Mochi, also manufactured by the same company, is only available in Japan. Strictly speaking, shingen mochi, at least the name, is a registered trademarked product of the Kinseiken Seika Company. Some say the confection was named after the Japanese warlord Shingen Takeda while others attribute its origins to abekawa mochi, a similar rice-based confection eaten during the summer obon festival in Japan. Traditional shingen mochi is made from an unusually soft mochi rice cake that is topped with a brown sugar syrup and kinako powder. It is not a new concept rather it’s a variant of mizu shingen mochi, which itself is a take on the traditional Japanese snack, shingen mochi.
Made by Darren Wong and served up to the Instagram fanatics and foodie hordes at Smorgasborg (Brooklyn’s culinary flea market), the Raindrop Cake is made with mineral water and agar and served with roasted soybean flour and sugar cane syrup. (And that $8 price tag.) When I reminisce about the best cake I ever ate, a tepid watery blob that jiggles like a breast implant does not come to mind. It is pleasantly refreshing, but I take umbrage with calling it a ‘cake’. Pretty presentation aside, the dessert tastes like barely sweetened spring water. I don’t see the appeal of the “Raindrop Cake”.
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