Have you ever bought a cherry lollypop only to find out, at first lick, that it tastes nothing like cherries? So far off is the flavor approximation, in fact, that you begin wondering if the responsible food scientists used cough syrup as a model or perhaps were trying to promote the mantra, don’t judge a book by its cover.

In my role as primary grocery shopper, (for myself and two cats) I often feel a similar deception: the gorgeous red tomatoes I buy are white inside; the pink sirloin, brown; and the new loaf of bread, green.

Fortuitously, in my role as consummate explorer of everything Japanese, I have partially repaired this situation with a recent discovery—Ohsawa’s Nama Shoyu. This, ladies and gentlemen, is no Kikkoman. Made from organic soybeans, natural sea salt and spring water, this delicate (and kosher) soy sauce ferments slowly in a wooden barrel before being bottled. The resulting condiment displays a sophisticated mellowness that never disappoints.

Every Muso product on display during Felissimo’s food week offers a similarly straightforward path to gastronomic delight. Even the instant Noodle kits have been injected with top-notch ingredients and surprising flavor—the Soba, Udon, Yakisoba varieties all trounced my college memories of 66-cent ramen. Unfortunately for me, Muso does not sell produce yet. Or lollypops.

I miss lots of things about Japan. And almost all of them are food related. Vending machines where the choices include hot coffee, cold whiskey, and even rice. Tiny ramen shops, crowded with three standing businessmen slurping soup while cold air sneaks in from the outside, meets the soup’s hot broth and creates a delicious steam. Mayonnaise-themed restaurants and drinkable yogurt also make the list.

Mostly, however, it is the cuisine of Japanese convenience stores that I pine after. Yes, I miss the curious novelty of egg salad donuts and pizza-flavored steam buns. And sometimes I don’t know what I’ll do without a stick of mangosteen gum but when I close my eyes at night, it is visions of rice balls that dance in my head.

Proust had his madelines and I have my onigiri.

It doesn’t matter whether you frequent a Lawson or a 7-Eleven, convenience store-issued rice balls are always satisfyingly standardized. Inside perfectly salted rice hides a morsel of briny salmon or sour plum or maybe even creamy tuna salad. A diagram on the intricately folded plastic wrapper explains how to adhere the crisp seaweed with three swift movements. With a hasty pull on the plastic tab bisecting the equilateral rice triangle and two gentle tugs on the package’s bottom edges, the ball is magically ready for devouring. It is the perfect snack, both wholesome and toothsome, and one that puts American convenience fare to shame.

Come to Felissimo this week and check out dozens of Japan’s gustatory delights. Though I can’t guarantee the presence of rice balls, I can guarantee that you will never again resign yourself to a Slurpee and accompanying bag of Cheetos.