Someone promotes a treat that combines two flavors; you say you don’t like one of the flavors; they invariably say, “You can’t even taste (the flavor you don’t like).”
I can’t begin to tell you how often this has happened to me, but it’s often a family member pushing the product.
So one day one of my brothers, who was visiting our parents from out of state, had a jar of Nutella on him.
A sister had brought over these plump gourmet bagels from New York.
While I was busy doing something, I was somewhat aware that my brother kept eating bagels with glops of Nutella on them.
I must have made a comment to the effect of, “How can you eat chocolate on a bagel?” because he suggested I try it.
I love high quality bagels. I can’t live without chocolate. But combining the two is absolutely out of the question. Will never happen.
I said, “No, I don’t like hazelnut.” (The Nutella spread is cocoa-hazelnut).
Drawing upon my magnificent psychic powers, I predicted that my headstrong brother would tell me, “You can’t even taste the hazelnut.”
And sure enough, that’s exactly what he said.
I still refused, and I think he again asserted, “But you can’t even taste the hazelnut!”
I’m calling BS on his claim.
If the hazelnut in Nutella – for which the label actually states, “HAZELNUT SPREAD WITH COCOA” – is not detectable, don’t you think there’d be mass complaints about fraudulent labeling?
When people buy Nutella, they want to taste the hazelnut; it’s what makes the spread unique.
The friggin’ label even puts “hazelnut” before “cocoa,” implying that hazelnut is the primary taste perception, and then chocolate is secondary.
So if my brother’s response was indeed truth, then there should be a ton of very unhappy shoppers out there who bought this spread for the experience of a hazelnut-chocolate taste.
Many of those consumers would be contacting the company, accusing it of ripping people off with a dishonest label.
And some would be demanding their money back: “I can’t even taste the hazelnut!”
I love chocolate-mint. Suppose I buy “Chocolate Mint Drops” that come in a bag – a new product from a major food maker.
I eagerly try one – and I’m like, “Hmm, I can’t even taste the mint.” I try another, and another.
Still no mint. All I’m getting is milk chocolate. I check the ingredients: Yeah, it says mint extract – but damn, all I’m tasting is straight milk chocolate.
You’d better believe I’m going to be miffed, even though I also like straight milk chocolate.
But if I wanted straight milk chocolate, I would’ve bought a Hershey Bar or Hershey’s Milk Chocolate Drops.
I bought the mint because I wanted a chocolate-mint experience. I’d contact the company with a complaint.
Likewise, for hazelnut lovers, they’d be inundating Ferrero, the company that makes Nutella, if indeed, “You can’t even taste the hazelnut!”
So why would my brother lie? It’s simple: He wanted control. There is absolutely no other explanation.
For what it’s worth, he didn’t have a cold at that time that may have diminished his sense of taste.
He definitely had been tasting well enough to be gorging on the bagel-Nutella combo.
I know my brother. He once held a chunk of medium-rare steak to my lips and insisted I eat it, even though I had made it clear, more than once, that I hate medium-rare cooking.
And he wasn’t smiling; he appeared aggravated that I’d wanted a well-done steak.
So yes, it’s about control, perhaps feeling slighted that little sister didn’t take his recommendation about the Nutella.
And by the way, I never opened my mouth for that steak piece. Nobody controls this Alpha female!
“But You Can’t Even Taste the (Blank)!”
This also happened to me with chocolate “rum balls.” I don’t recall whom it was, but they said, “But you can’t even taste the rum!” Like HELL you can’t taste it!
When someone pulls this stunt on you, consider the real possibility that it’s a control move.
If a product is marketed as dual-tasting, such as “almond flavored cookies” or “chocolate coffee,” there’s a reason for that labeling: It’s going to have a tinge of secondary flavor – be it almonds, coffee, raspberries, lemon or whatever the doggone second flavor is.
I once accidentally purchased a stevia powder that oddly had a vanilla component to the taste.
I thought it was my imagination until I read more closely the label: “vanilla flavored.”
Suppose I’m eating “chocolate peanut butter balls” that appear to be solid chocolate – but I can definitely taste the peanut butter – and I tell someone, “Hey, you should try these; they’re SO good!”
And they say, “No, not for me; I hate peanut butter.”
And I say, “Well, you can’t even taste the peanut butter.”
Now what would be my motive? Think about that for a second.
