In partnership with

FLUFFY MOUNTAIN SHOWDOWN: Thailand vs. Japan’s Kakigori Kings

Dessert finally gets its spotlight in this week’s edition.

Kakigori: silk-light Japanese shaved ice whose name fuses kaki (to shave) and gori (ice). It was once an aristocratic summer luxury in the Heian court, where blocks of winter ice were rasped to snow and scented with rare syrups. Modern machines transformed it into a festival staple, but its essence never changed: ice shaved so fine it collapses on the tongue like cold fog, then drenched in flavours that veer from temple e.g., pure matcha to riotous Thai tea.

Today two very different houses battle for supremacy—mall-born trendsetter After You in Bangkok and tea-house purist Wad in Osaka.

Contender #1: After You Dessert Café, Bangkok

Slip past the queue snaking through Siam Paragon and the air turns sweet—ripe mango perfume, toasted rice, condensed milk. At After You the snow arrives in colossal glass bowls crowned by a glossy cream-cheese drizzle so thick it clings like ganache before trickling down the slopes. Beneath lies ice shaved to a flake so thin it disappears on contact, leaving only chill and flavour. Beside the mountain sits delectable sauce ready to be drizzled and dripped.

Mango Sticky Rice Kakigori
Vibrant mango flavoured soft shaved ice with a hidden secret. Dig deeper and hit pockets of diced fruit: sweet, fragrant, almost perfumed. Right at the base sits a hidden mound of coconut-steamed sticky rice—glutinous pearls that chew like warm toffee. It’s the rice that startles: reviewers call it “the best in Bangkok”. When the salty-sweet cream cheese meets sweet coconut milk it’s heaven. Only to be enhanced by a shot glass of sharp mango syrup to pour over the top, which cuts the dairy richness with fresh green-mango acidity and resets the palate for the next.

Thai Tea Kakigori
If the mango mound is sunshine, this is a monsoon cloud steeped in Cha Tra Mue leaves. The ice tastes of condensed-milk caramel and black tea tannin; halfway down, chewy cubes of grass jelly slip in like cool espresso pearls, adding herbal bitterness that reins in the sweetness. A separate pour of condensed milk lets you decide how indulgent to go. The tea flavour packs a powerful punch which satisfies cravings and surprises the tastebuds. If you’re cautious, opt for the “baby” bowl (≈ £7) and save space for seasonal specials like strawberry cheese or Milo dinosaur, both cult hits on Thai-language foodie boards.

Between spoonfuls sip the complimentary roasted-barley tea—nutty, unsweetened, endless refills—and watch teenagers angle phones for the perfect drizzle shot. Some diners complain the desserts are “over the top sweet”, but the queues (and my tastebuds) suggest most find the sugar-salt balance addictive.

Contender #2: Wad Omotenashi Café, Osaka

Slip off bustling Sakaisuji Street in Osaka and Wad greets you with hush: handmade raku bowls, matcha aroma, the quiet whisk of a chasen. Beautifully simple settings in true wabi-sabi style.

Part tea ceremony, part design gallery, the café treats shaved ice with the same wabi-sabi precision as matcha. Pottery rotates daily, so your kakigori arrives in a vessel chosen to complement colour and season.

Our pick: Kokuto Kakigori—diamond-shaved ice crowned with Okinawan dark-brown-sugar syrup, a snowfall of condensed milk and a generous slab of house-made red-bean paste. The red bean paste is the star: earthy, sweet-savory and mashed just coarse enough to retain texture. Another favourite pairs ceremonial-grade matcha syrup with puffed rice for bitterness and crunch. Prices hover around ¥1 200 (≈ £7), including a miniature japanese sweets platter and impossibly smooth matcha latte brewed tableside.

Downside? The ice is orthodox—denser shards rather than feather-light snow—so you’ll do more chewing than at After You. Yet that heft suits the syrup’s molasses depth. And unlike its Thai rival, Wad offers meditative silence—no mall tannoy, no hashtag-hunters.The inside of Jumbo Seafood, Singapore

The Verdict

Both cost roughly £7. Crave sunshine and photogenic cream-cheese cascades? After You’s Mango Sticky Rice is non-negotiable. Yearn for tea-house tranquillity and heirloom pottery? Wad delivers artisanal calm. We say do both: treat Bangkok for flavour fireworks, then let Osaka restore your zen.

London cravings? Try tsujiri in Chinatown or Shibuya Soho for matcha and yuzu kakigori, or chase Malaysia’s cousin ais kacang—corn kernels, rose syrup, peanuts—at Rasa Sayang or Med Salleh Kopitiam in Paddington.

Rise & Grind: the alarm clock that serves you coffee

No, this isn’t Wallace and Gromit’s breakfast bed contraption—though inventor Josh Renouf admits the claymation duo inspired him. The Barisieur is a bedside alarm clock that flash-brews a V60-style pour-over (or tea) the moment the buzzer sounds, using induction heating, hand-blown glassware and a walnut tray.

The tech:

• Twin-mesh filter delivers a grit-free pour-over the instant your alarm rings.

• A silent mini-fridge keeps milk at 3–5 °C and detects if milk is present with an infrared sensor.

• A sealed drawer hides a week’s worth of coffee or tea with its own steel scoop.

Does it actually work?

Amazon devotees rave about the “luxurious ritual” once dialled in, praising hot coffee within arm’s reach and the soothing burble that replaces harsh beeps. Critics on Reddit grumble about splashes, fiddly dials and milk coolers that fail after six months, dubbing it a pricey novelty. Coffee Youtubers split the difference: “makes a decent cup, but you’re paying for theatre”.

Setup demands night-before prep—fill the 120ml flask, load grounds, set the alarm and pray the cat doesn’t knock it over. Still, for chronic snoozers who equate mornings with misery, the aroma cue might be worth £345.