Every Easter Sunday I go on a cocoa bender like some sort of hybrid Tony Montana-Willy Wonka from the non-existent film "Scarface and The Chocolate Factory". So it was no surprise to me this morning when I opened my laptop to find melted chocolate all over the keyboard, from which I was snorting up lines of Red Tulip bunny flakes the previous night. I feel the best way to celebrate the resurrection of Christ my savior is to gorge myself into a chocolatey coma like Augustus Gloop at Communion. The body of Christ doesn't always have to be communion wafers, sometimes it can be a Chocolate hot cross buns. This brings me to the day of repentance- Easter Monday. In an attempt to undo the excess of the previous day, I set out a menu of crisp vegetables and cleansing juices. Today I will be employing my most recent treasured find from Coles, the Vegetable Gyoza.
In the tradition of the Coles Strudel, comes the Coles Vegetable Gyoza. It is part of their frozen Asian delights range, the type normally served up at parties by people who live in house and land packages in suburbs whose names have more syllables than they do residents. But the Vegetable Gyoza is a real stand out, like a University Masters graduate from a family of Beetroot farmers.
This is a phenomenal eat. For something to come from the frozen food section and taste this good, NASA somehow had to be involved . This heat & eat treat is 16 pieces of pure perfection. I tend to throw them in the shopping trolley as deep freeze deposit. There they will sit along with a hillbilly-like arsenal of post-apocolyptic frozen treats, however unlike the bags mixed vegetables and Captn Cutlass Crispy SeaChicken Bits, these actually get consumed.
The Japanese Gyoza, much like Japanese women, is small and alluring and best served with dipping sauce. It came to prominence in 1940's Japan, as soldiers fresh from the invasion of China bought home an array of things including venereal disease, mental scars and recipes for dumplings. These dumplings were wholly embraced by the nation, unlinke the dirty fornicating crazy ex-soldiers, and today are one of Japan's best loved delicacies. They differ from the Chinese Dumpling in that they are only contain the ingredients listed on the menu and never contain traces of Cat. The best thing about these Coles ones is that our animal-patting Vego friends can enjoy them with you the next time you are catering the West Wing Marathon at your thirty-something sharehouse.
Working out at just 43 cents each, this eating is affordable to all and will kamikaze the taste buds of the most sheltered Caucasian palette. War-era Grandparents will gladly lay aside past bitterness at the bayoneting of relatives, and admit that something good can truly come out of Japan. Steamed or Fried, these are the best thing from a supermarket since sliced bread.