#8 - Nestlé Walnut Whip

Great Britain is a pretty good sport about things. I mean, there was the whole American Revolution thing (which included the stealing of many a British drinking song for our own purposes), yet today Britain is one of America's strongest allies. I suppose it could all be an elaborate plot to build up trust while devising a fitting revenge, but I really find it much more likely that they've just decided to let bygones be bygones. No hard feelings and all that. Or maybe they've just come to realize that acquiring America's money via Downton Abbey, Simon Cowell, and whatnot is easier than ownership and taxation ever was.

Whatever the reason(s), America and Britain have a pretty friendly relationship going (excluding, of course, the recent inexcusable Cadbury ban by Hershey), which is good news for British candy lovers.

As you may know (if you are one of those rare individuals who has adequate reading comprehension skills and has been following my blog from the beginning), my journey into the realm of candy reviewing started with a bag of European candy, a great gift from some great friends who had taken a great trip to Scotland. Great stuff all around. It is therefore fitting to review a product that was born in the land of kilts and bagpipes, even if said candy is not necessarily manufactured there nowadays. One such treat is the Nestlé Walnut Whip:

Pro product-naming tip: If a clever name eludes you, alliteration will suffice. 

At a glance, one can see that the Walnut Whip package is a shiny metallic blue color. That's about it. The name "Walnut Whip" suggests there should be something pertaining to a walnut within, and something whipped (can a walnut be whipped?), but is otherwise vague and bland. For all its sheen, I don't find that the packaging catches my eye, nor do I have any immediate feelings or real expectations about the candy. In short, nothing would really draw me to this if presented among competing products. In fact, I believe this particular item was selected by my wife. I guess shiny objects have a greater impact on her.

What happened to the walnut? Where did it go?

The package is also an unusual, nondescript shape. This further confuses the matter of what a Walnut Whip truly is, until a look at the side reveals that it is a "milk chocolate whirl with a fondant cream centre." That is not exactly what I would have imagined (nor how I'd have spelled "center," but I'm not British). Neither walnuts nor whipping are referenced in the description of the candy. Who can know what to believe at this point? If I were to be given a test in matching descriptions to candy names, I would probably miss this one.

A quick look at the Nestlé webpage explains that the Walnut Whip is Nestlé Rowntree's oldest current (isn't that an oxymoron?) brand, created by Duncan's of Edinburgh in 1910. It also goes on to claim that "Almost one Walnut Whip is eaten every 2 seconds in the UK." This brings up a slew of questions: What does "almost one" mean? Do people not finish the candy? Is there a reason for that? Will I be able to finish one, or will I too settle for "almost"? Is it a very popular candy in the UK, or is there just a small handful of very dedicated fans intent on creating a bizarre statistic? Who conducted this study?

I may be too late. Then again, I may not.

With these questions in mind, I checked the "best before" date, which is an indefinite August of 2015. Much like the rest of the packaging, Nestlé does not seem to be able to fully commit here. I get the impression that with such a history behind the Walnut Whip, they felt they could phone this one in. Perhaps the word "almost" was the all-around inspiration.

Since August has not yet become a memory, there should be no worries about spoilage here, though I guess one could say that it has almost expired...

By the way, on one side of the wrapper is the slogan "Lose yourself in a..." I think we can all agree that's a pretty weak slogan. Again, it tells you nothing about the candy; it is totally generic. It isn't actually certain it's even referring to the candy. I know a lot of the better slogans are already taken, but come on, Nestlé, make an effort and take some pride in your products!

Don't let your child eat all of your Walnut Whip.
Save some for yourself.

The back contains the nutrition information. Each whip is only 171.1 Calories, which is not bad at all. I would like to point out that since I've begun my candy blog, I've lost around ten pounds. I'm not suggesting a diet of candy can help you lose weight (my legal team is adamant about that), I just wanted to let you know how awesome my life is.

Anyhow, I like the fact that the panel mentions adjusting portions for children of different ages. They may not seem to care much about their candy, but at least they are concerned about children.

Did I mention I took the nutritional panel picture after the candy was opened? Due to the design of the packaging, it was difficult to read the information on back, and just about impossible to get a decent picture of it. In other words, you may not realize what you're getting into until it's too late. Or after some unspecified time in August, which I guess is also too late (and thus redundant).

These are a few of my favorite things.

The ingredients list contains quite the assortment of vegetable fats and a surprisingly insignificant amount of walnuts. If 95% of a product is NOT a walnut, "Walnut Whip" may not be the most suitable name. Just a thought.

The panel also contains some great allergy advice (i.e., read the ingredients). Thank you, Nestlé, as I never would have thought of that myself. I see also that the product may contain traces of other nuts, which makes me wonder why the candy isn't titled "Possible Mixed Nut Whip."

Below that is a scathing commentary on the eating skills of those aged 3 and under. Apparently the portion should be adjusted to 0% in their case; as I am against children choking, I have no problem with their suggestion. And it does provide one extra piece in the walnut mystery: "the walnut" implies that there is a single walnut inside. You really make me work for it, Nestlé!

Above the list of ingredients is the Nestlé logo with the "Good Food, Good Life" motto. While I get that the mother bird with her babies is meant to imply some good old family values (such as advocating against the choking of children), bird appetites do not signify good food (nor good life, for that matter) to me. Worms and bugs are rarely on my menu (and never intentionally). Also, I just don't find the artwork that interesting. Sorry. But it's what Nestlé has decided on, so I must respect their decision.

Upon opening the package, I saw this:

Attack of the chocolate space slug from Planet X!

Huh. Hmm... Admit it, you did not expect this any more than I did. You would never have expected this in a million years. Its resemblance to a whirl is sketchy at best. I'd say it looks more like either a failed attempt at a sea urchin or some kind of chocolate space slug. I'm leaning more towards the space slug theory, because "Lose yourself in a... Chocolate Space Slug!" would actually be a pretty cool slogan. Bravo, Nestlé, you have taken me entirely by surprise and left me speechless (fortunately, I don't need to speak to write). It makes the lackluster (though entirely lustrous) wrapping all the more disappointing, really.

The solitary walnut responsible for the name.

There is something whimsical about the design of the candy, and that's something I can get behind. Candy should not be taken too seriously; that defeats the purpose, no?

I started with the walnut at the top. I couldn't actually remember whether or not I really liked walnuts; I know I've eaten them, but my taste memory was a little fuzzy at the time. As it turns out, I do enjoy a good walnut. Or, at least I thoroughly enjoyed this one. I was off to a great start. Or maybe I should have finished with the walnut. Maybe this was where the "almost" would come in.

There was only one way to find out (eat it, obviously; if you didn't get that, you are possibly who the "allergy advice" was written for)...

Shockingly close to how I'd expect space slug guts to look.

Surprise, surprise! The "whip" portion (I assume that must be what it's called) of the Walnut Whip was just as good (in fact, better) than the walnut. Milk chocolate and a fondant cream center, just as promised!

To be perfectly honest, I found the taste to be almost generic, but somehow in a very good way. The chocolate and filling complemented each other quite nicely, and though I've had similar candy (in concept) before, this was definitely one of the better ones; it was certainly the one with the most interesting shape! The walnut was a welcome addition, too.

There is an old adage about not judging a book by its cover. That really applies here. The Nestlé Walnut Whip turned out to be an unexpectedly fun treat in a not-so-exciting wrapper. I'm glad I gave it a chance; I'm already thinking it might be nice to pick up another one sometime!

To sum it up with a single number, I rate the Nestlé Walnut Whip a 3. I do not think I could eat "almost" one every couple of seconds, but I could without a doubt find a place for one now and then. And at less than 80% of the Calories of a standard candy bar, I wouldn't have to feel too bad about it. Unless you are a child of less than 4 years of age (you poor thing, but what are you doing reading my blog?) or are allergic to nuts (or one of the other ingredients in bold letters), you ought to give the Walnut Whip a chance. You might just find yourself liking it. A lot.

I am pleased, Nestlé. It may have been a long-winded journey, but it concluded with the classic "...and they all lived happily ever after."

Good life indeed.

Possibly full of surprises myself,
The Sweets Fiend

Seriously, what is this supposed to be?