NUTELLA & GO!
First thing’s first I’m the realest. Second thing’s first, what’s up with that name? Nutella & Go? That doesn’t make sense. Nut Ella & Go? Nutella TO Go, surely? I just don’t get the ‘&’. It’s foreign though, innit. Is it? It is, innit?
How is KP’s Choc Dips feeling right now? You’ve been upcycled, mate. BOOSH. The old mini-breadstick and choc dip game is nothing new but Nutella is a primo brand. I can’t be sure that this hasn’t happened before from the Nutella stable but the promotional housing suggests it’s new. Am I alone in thinking that full-size breadsticks are shit but mini-size breadsticks are ok? The minis are whittled down to a fine, tight construct. Their forefathers are still impressively engineered but their smooth skin belies their crumbly mouth-drying inner. It’s too long and not enough fun. Maybe the last time they were pantry staples was in the mid-nineties when I was a card-carrying humous/hummus/hummous-phobe. Can’t think of what I dunked them in. Perhaps one of those great-idea-at-the-time-but-disappointing-in-retrospect multi-dip boxsets from Sainsbury’s or similar. Y’know, a 4-pack of 2 blonde ones, a salsa and maybe a guacamole (if you’re lucky). I feel like my breadstick years were teamed with bland sour cream and onion. Salsa doesn’t stick to a breadstick either FYI, you get the sauce but not the solid. Story of my life. Feel like breadsticks were the fuddy duddy precursor to the young hip happening tortilla chips that were born to dip.
Nutella & Go’s packaging is an ergonomically pleasing half-circle tub, flat on the back, round on the front. Too early to call it a design classic but it makes KP’s Choc Dips feel like a flimsy yoghurt pot. You get 14 sticks, or pokers, per pack. In keeping with the genre, the dip-side only plunges two-thirds of the way down the packaging. We long for a dip-defying full use of the dunk chamber, imagine! I haven’t picked up a Choc Dips or similar in about 20 years but the thought of one crowbars open repressed memories of over-zealous initial dip form resulting in dry breadstick leftovers. Similar dangers run rife with any form of self-service. It’s all the fun of the party but with all the logistics of the party planning. How much does one lose abandon in those initial heady stages of ecstasy? How, as a kid, can you be expected rein it in? It almost, ALMOST, sucks the fun out of it. It turns it into rationing, accountancy, death.
Nutella is as Nutella does. It’s chocolate spread that hypes up the hazelnut angle but we all know choccy is the real box office. It’s great; you can’t say it’s not great. Mean I don’t buy it much from the shop but I always know it’s there. The sticks are almost worryingly thin, about the same length and circumference as a ‘rollie’ cigarette. Indeed a couple broke mid-scoop because we all know that Nutella can be a quicksand if approached from the wrong angle. I cursed my trajectory rather than the brittle nature of the stick. Initial fears about the Nutella to breadstick ratio have subsided now that I’m left with two sticks and generous coverage in the dunk tank. I have to say that I went in hard too with my first three or four, slowing the pace a little in the middle and picking it up again on the home run.
Basic 2+2 caveman fun on first glance but a little more complex once you lay out the game board. Nutella & Go is a success. It’s going to slot into kids lunchboxes a little TOO WELL alongside their f*cking design classic babybels. But for the now-while, whilst it’s new, I’m going to say that I’m resoundingly into it. At 89p you’d like them to be a little cheaper but it’s 2014, baby, that’s just the lay of the land. Ample coverage + ample sticks = dunking abandon.
Shit on a stick redux A/10 V/10