My Strange Addiction....to Melon Bread?!
There are many different kinds of Japanese foods that I could label as my favorite: udon, salmon sushi, okonomiyaki, unadon. All of these immediately get my stomach growling. Since these tend to be lunch and dinner items, I am always in search of the perfect snack. This search came to an end in Japan when I found a food item that I couldn't stop myself from constantly eating.
Melon bread, or Melon Pan (メロンパン), is a sweet bun that originated in Japan. The name comes from a mix of the English word "melon" and the Portuguese word "pan", or "bread". Both of these are borrowed words, or loanwords, since they did not previously have a Japanese word for it. Melon Pan doesn't actually taste anything like a melon, but the design of the crust (a crossing pattern) is supposed to make it look like a melon, hence the name. It's sweet, but not too sweet, so you can always have more than just one. Light and fluffy in texture, Melon Pan is one of the most famous and recognizable foods in Japan.
I had heard the legend of Melon Pan before traveling to Japan, but since there are scarce to none here in the States, I had never tried it. Once I found the famed pastry, I had to eat it. If only I knew how slippery of a slope that truly was. From the first bite, I was hooked. I had eaten many pastries that were too sweet or too dry. But this was perfection! It was just the right amount of sweetness, and it wasn't too dry. It was so good that I never passed up the opportunity to buy one...or two....or five. And they would disappear very soon after purchasing them, so naturally, I had to go out and get some more. Bakeries would often have fresh, out-of-the-oven Melon Pan, which kept fueling the addiction.
Once I made it down to Shikoku, the number of bakeries seemed to double, and I would go all over the city of Takamatsu, where I was staying, to find more (much to the dismay of my friends and my host mom I'm sure). It was a treat I had never had before, and I knew that once I left Japan, the likelihood of having it again would slim. So I had to pig out as much as I could before it was time to go home. My host mom would often laugh at me when she saw how much Melon Pan I'd go through. As I munched on my bread, I thought about how interesting it was when something that is normal for one person is a treat for those who do not grow up with it. My host mom was really nice about it though. We went to one bakery who were out of Melon Pan, and she asked them if they could make a couple for me. They were in the process of making a fresh batch, but I just thought how nice it was for her to ask. She was awesome!
Since I've been home, I've only found Melon Pan a handful of times, and none have been as good as the ones I had in Japan. I've searched high and low for them, as well as a good recipe to make them myself. I have found buns that are similar, but nothing has really come close to being as good. Until I got back to Japan, the likelihood of finding that perfect Melon Pan is not very high. One day, I'm going to set time aside to make my own, and when I do I will be sharing my (hopefully) achievement. Until then, I'm left with the memories of Melon Pan and its tastiness, and I can't wait to go back and have some more.
Melon bread, or Melon Pan (メロンパン), is a sweet bun that originated in Japan. The name comes from a mix of the English word "melon" and the Portuguese word "pan", or "bread". Both of these are borrowed words, or loanwords, since they did not previously have a Japanese word for it. Melon Pan doesn't actually taste anything like a melon, but the design of the crust (a crossing pattern) is supposed to make it look like a melon, hence the name. It's sweet, but not too sweet, so you can always have more than just one. Light and fluffy in texture, Melon Pan is one of the most famous and recognizable foods in Japan.
I had heard the legend of Melon Pan before traveling to Japan, but since there are scarce to none here in the States, I had never tried it. Once I found the famed pastry, I had to eat it. If only I knew how slippery of a slope that truly was. From the first bite, I was hooked. I had eaten many pastries that were too sweet or too dry. But this was perfection! It was just the right amount of sweetness, and it wasn't too dry. It was so good that I never passed up the opportunity to buy one...or two....or five. And they would disappear very soon after purchasing them, so naturally, I had to go out and get some more. Bakeries would often have fresh, out-of-the-oven Melon Pan, which kept fueling the addiction.
Once I made it down to Shikoku, the number of bakeries seemed to double, and I would go all over the city of Takamatsu, where I was staying, to find more (much to the dismay of my friends and my host mom I'm sure). It was a treat I had never had before, and I knew that once I left Japan, the likelihood of having it again would slim. So I had to pig out as much as I could before it was time to go home. My host mom would often laugh at me when she saw how much Melon Pan I'd go through. As I munched on my bread, I thought about how interesting it was when something that is normal for one person is a treat for those who do not grow up with it. My host mom was really nice about it though. We went to one bakery who were out of Melon Pan, and she asked them if they could make a couple for me. They were in the process of making a fresh batch, but I just thought how nice it was for her to ask. She was awesome!
Since I've been home, I've only found Melon Pan a handful of times, and none have been as good as the ones I had in Japan. I've searched high and low for them, as well as a good recipe to make them myself. I have found buns that are similar, but nothing has really come close to being as good. Until I got back to Japan, the likelihood of finding that perfect Melon Pan is not very high. One day, I'm going to set time aside to make my own, and when I do I will be sharing my (hopefully) achievement. Until then, I'm left with the memories of Melon Pan and its tastiness, and I can't wait to go back and have some more.
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