I often crave churros. More specifically, I crave Disneyland's churros. I'm not proud of this, opposite as it is to the image I'd like to have of churros, which is as something lovingly handcrafted by sugar-dusted Mexican aunties, not produced in mass quantities by part-time workers in the Happiest Corporation on Earth. But there's nothing I can do about it. Churros sold in Disneyland are fresh and good, much better than the stale sticks usually sold at baseball games and fairs. So I crave.

Cinnamon is a fairly popular flavoring in Japan and donuts are ubiquitous, so churros could really take off here, if only some enterprising yakuza* would hurry up and open churros booths at a few festivals. But they haven't yet, so I was surprised to see this candy (actually more a cookie or snack) on the shelves: Churosu-ya-san, or Mr. Churros Shop. There was only one package left and it was, a bit disappointingly, maple-flavored. I bought it anyway.

Although maple snack foods and I have a spotty history, I was ready to give Mr. Churros Shop the chance is deserved. I wasn't expecting Disneyland, but I was hoping for something crispy and sweet that might slightly alleviate my churros cravings. I was heartened after opening the package; the maple scent was mild and didn't make me want to gag. They even kind of looked like churros, ridged and sparkling with sugar.

Then I ate one.

It was so so so bad. It was so bad, it is only for the benefit of the candy-eating public that I ate another, in an attempt to document its numerous faults and perhaps save a few lives from the disheartening shock I have suffered. Forthwith, I present to you Mr. Churros Shop's Crimes Against Churros (and humanity).

1. They are not crispy. They are soft and crumble heavily under the teeth, like a very stale cookie served to you by an old lady who has guests over once every five years and stocks her snack cupboard accordingly.

2. They taste old. It's not only the texture that makes me wonder if these were manufactured in 1995 and subsequently driven around in the "sweets wagon" pictured on the front of the package for twelve years, unsold, uneaten, until in desperation the bigwigs at Tohato Snack Foods Inc. decided to package and sell them as a new taste treat.** Artificial maple and old margarine seem to be the main flavors here.

3. They contain no cinnamon. Churros are not supposed to taste like Aunt Jemima. That is all.

4. The aftermath is even worse. I have just eaten three "churros" in succession and feel disturbingly full. Each one is no bigger than my index finger, yet they are dense as energy bars. My mouth tastes sour. I have had to pop a plum candy to rid myself of Mr. Churros Shop breath.

The worst part about all this is that if the yakuza ever taste these, there's no way they'll ever open up a churros stand, and my ultimate dream of walking through a festival with a fresh taiyaki in one hand and a fresh churro in the other will never come true. Curse you and your sweets wagon, Mr. Churro Shop!

*The Japanese mafia is said to control the festival snack booth world. No, seriously.

**I even checked the expiration date -- July 2007.