In high school (circa 1991-1992), one of my physical education class demands was running a mile in under ten minutes. I cannot remember how many attempts I was forced to take before my teacher finally gave up on me and waived the requirement, but it was plenty enough for me. Suffice it to say, I am NOT fast. In fact, I have been told by more than one individual that I am the slowest person he/she has ever met (is it any wonder that The Poky Little Puppy was one of my favorite books as a young boy?).
Clearly, sports aren't my thing. I have never participated in any organized sport, nor do I follow sports, really; my wife jokes that I can name more current fashion designers than athletes (which, at any given time, tends to be more true than funny). I even once seriously injured myself playing a game of pool. It's bad.
I am just not an athlete, nor am I likely to become one as I age. Perhaps my sedentary lifestyle is the culprit, but I'd rather place the blame on a lack of nutritious sweets (because that requires no change on my part). If there were a candy bar that could turn a sluggish klutz of a man into a superhuman athletic machine, surely my story would be completely different.
Fortunately, the cries of the sluggards have not gone unheard, as my good friends at Cloetta (okay, I don't actually know a single Cloetta employee) have promised a solution to the problem: the Sportlunch candy bar!
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| Who needs exercise when you've got milk chocolate and crispy wafers? |
The Sportlunch (formerly "Mellanmål," or "snack" - I prefer "Sportlunch") apparently comes in at least two forms: the wider six-pack and the two-bar version I am reviewing today. It is not the first candy bar I've come across to allegedly offer miraculous nutritional qualities; the Japp and Power Break series share similar claims (I'm still waiting for their effects). It seems that in Sweden (and neighboring countries) candy bars are considered very nutritious for you, which means that either Nordic people do in fact obtain their ideal nutrients from candy (in which case I should've been born a Swede or something) or their usual culinary fare is (somehow) far less nutritious than candy. I mean, they wouldn't allow so much blatantly misleading advertising, would they?
There can be no doubt that candy bars are low on the nutritional totem pole, because G.I. Joe's Lifeline (the wimp of G.I. Joe, really; he was a lover, not a fighter) says so, and, with his medical training, he ought to know (and knowing is half the battle)! Before I go on, please view the video and explain to me this: is Lifeline a contortionist, or is he being fed the apple by an off-screen friend? Seriously, I do not think it is humanly possible for one to hold an apple as he does, though I would gladly be proven wrong. I offer this challenge to my reader(s): take a video of yourself (or a friend, preferably dressed up as a G.I. Joe character) attempting to eat an apple (or any edible object, for that matter) in the style of Lifeline. Anyone brave enough to accept the challenge may be featured in a future blog entry, which is likely to be viewed by at least two people (including me and the challenger)! What have you got to lose, other than some pride and self-respect?
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| This is no apple, folks! |
Anyhow, Lifeline's denouncement of candy bars was obviously a blow to many of my dreams (to say nothing of his encouraging kids to eat apples without paying for them). It was also when I realized that food substitution suggestions rarely make sense ("Instead of a double cheeseburger, have a stick of celery!"); if my taste is for a candy bar, an apple (even a "free" one) will hardly satisfy my needs.
But enough about tragic memories, there is candy to be eaten! The packaging is well done, being colorful and eye-catching while giving off a "fitness" vibe. If it were not for the candy graphic on the right, I might mistake the product for an actual health bar. Luckily, it is no such thing. It is honest-to-goodness candy, and, if the artwork is to be believed, it looks to be a good one!
But enough about tragic memories, there is candy to be eaten! The packaging is well done, being colorful and eye-catching while giving off a "fitness" vibe. If it were not for the candy graphic on the right, I might mistake the product for an actual health bar. Luckily, it is no such thing. It is honest-to-goodness candy, and, if the artwork is to be believed, it looks to be a good one!
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| If you can read this, your candy's still fit to be eaten. |
On the back of the package, the "best before" date can be found, if you look closely. It is faded badly, but not yet beyond legibility, and it seems everything should be just fine. Generally speaking, I would expect ink to have a larger shelf life than chocolate, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Maybe the Sportlunch just has an abnormally long shelf life. I am tempted to call one of the numerous phone numbers provided to get an answer, but it seems like an awful lot of effort, and, as has already established, I'm a lazy bum.
A slight look to the right of the contact information reveals the nutritional information.
A slight look to the right of the contact information reveals the nutritional information.
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| Eat two packages of Sportlunch, and this information is correct! |
I didn't realize at first that it was in fact the nutritional information, because I'm used to seeing a chart or, at the very least, a box. Cloetta has decided on a more subtle approach with the Sportlunch, maybe to hide the fact that it is not the world's healthiest snack?
As is usual for candy from the region, the data is based on 100g, which rarely corresponds to the actual mass of the product. Fortunately, this particular Sportlunch is 50g, making calculations a simple division by two (or a single bit shift to the right, if you're a computer programmer). There are thus 263 Calories of pure athleticism inside. That's on the higher end for candy bars, as is the amount of protein therein. I suppose one could argue that the Sportlunch is indeed packed with energy, but I still have my doubts that any G.I. Joe representative would recommend it over an apple.
The ingredients are hidden under the flap (surprise!) and of no help to me whatsoever, since I don't read any of the languages provided. However, the very first ingredient is "socker," which I imagine translates to "MaD Socc3R Ski11Z." Maybe the Sportlunch does indeed make one an instant fitness superstar?
There is really just too much to go through here, so I will just pretend it is a credits list and be done with it.
As is usual for candy from the region, the data is based on 100g, which rarely corresponds to the actual mass of the product. Fortunately, this particular Sportlunch is 50g, making calculations a simple division by two (or a single bit shift to the right, if you're a computer programmer). There are thus 263 Calories of pure athleticism inside. That's on the higher end for candy bars, as is the amount of protein therein. I suppose one could argue that the Sportlunch is indeed packed with energy, but I still have my doubts that any G.I. Joe representative would recommend it over an apple.
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| I don't know about you, but I'm a fan of helmjölkspulver's recent work. |
The ingredients are hidden under the flap (surprise!) and of no help to me whatsoever, since I don't read any of the languages provided. However, the very first ingredient is "socker," which I imagine translates to "MaD Socc3R Ski11Z." Maybe the Sportlunch does indeed make one an instant fitness superstar?
There is really just too much to go through here, so I will just pretend it is a credits list and be done with it.
The external examination being completed, it was time to dig in and see what the Cloetta Sportlunch really had to offer. My first impression was thankfully a positive one.
The "chocolate brick," for lack of a better word, has a nice Formula One racing motif to it. I am assuming it is an F1 motif, at least; I could be horribly wrong. I know it's not Nascar, that's for sure, but it certainly does seem to have something to do with racing, which I know precious little about. I once received a call asking if I had some free time to take a survey. As chance would have it, I did. It turned out to be a survey about Formula One races and international soccer tournaments, and, in particular, the brands associated with and advertised during said events. As one might guess, I was not the ideal candidate for such a survey. What followed was nearly half an hour of me repeating either "I don't know" or "I've never heard of them." Still, it passed the time.
As I've often said, I always appreciate additional design details to candy, so I was pleased with Cloetta's efforts. It was a thing of beauty. However, the chocolate was quickly beginning to melt in my hand, so I thought it best to initiate Operation Consumption with no further delay.
Imagine my joy and surprise when I pulled out the second "brick" and discovered a totally different look to it! This one appeared to be a sun, perhaps setting on the last race of the day or something (it was either that or the last view of someone being killed by a giant octopus). It was a fitting conclusion to the candy, and I will admit, I truly enjoyed it (both the candy and the look of it).
The milk chocolate/crispy wafer combo is a popular one, with varying degrees of success. I would personally place the Sportlunch slightly ahead of the more famous (at least around here) Kit Kat. The chocolate was mighty tasty (and in a thicker layer than most of the competitors), and I found no fault in the wafers. All in all, it met (and perhaps exceeded) any expectations the artwork on the wrapper may have inspired (and it was filling, to boot).
It was close to a complete winner. Unfortunately, like Noah Ngeny, it fell short of the highest ranking. I can't exactly explain why, to be honest; it didn't necessarily do anything wrong. But neither did its memory stick with me afterwards. I thought "Hey, that was good," and then went on my merry way without a thought of whether or not I'd ever meet another Sportlunch.
Therefore, I give the Cloetta Sportlunch a very respectable 3. You can't go wrong with it, and I wouldn't mind buying one sometime (not even a little bit), but it is unlikely to haunt my dreams (or turn me into a superhuman athletic machine).
Even so, Cloetta is to be commended for putting forth such a solid offering. Don't hesitate to pick one up if you happen to be in Sweden (or Norway, for that matter), and as the slogan (which is nothing at all like Nike's slogan) goes, "Just eat it."
Just keep an eye out for any pesky G.I. Joe members in the vicinity.
Until the Sportlunch promise comes to fruition, I remain
The Sweets Fiend
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| VROOM VROOM? |
The "chocolate brick," for lack of a better word, has a nice Formula One racing motif to it. I am assuming it is an F1 motif, at least; I could be horribly wrong. I know it's not Nascar, that's for sure, but it certainly does seem to have something to do with racing, which I know precious little about. I once received a call asking if I had some free time to take a survey. As chance would have it, I did. It turned out to be a survey about Formula One races and international soccer tournaments, and, in particular, the brands associated with and advertised during said events. As one might guess, I was not the ideal candidate for such a survey. What followed was nearly half an hour of me repeating either "I don't know" or "I've never heard of them." Still, it passed the time.
As I've often said, I always appreciate additional design details to candy, so I was pleased with Cloetta's efforts. It was a thing of beauty. However, the chocolate was quickly beginning to melt in my hand, so I thought it best to initiate Operation Consumption with no further delay.
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| Sun? Octopus? You be the judge! |
Imagine my joy and surprise when I pulled out the second "brick" and discovered a totally different look to it! This one appeared to be a sun, perhaps setting on the last race of the day or something (it was either that or the last view of someone being killed by a giant octopus). It was a fitting conclusion to the candy, and I will admit, I truly enjoyed it (both the candy and the look of it).
The milk chocolate/crispy wafer combo is a popular one, with varying degrees of success. I would personally place the Sportlunch slightly ahead of the more famous (at least around here) Kit Kat. The chocolate was mighty tasty (and in a thicker layer than most of the competitors), and I found no fault in the wafers. All in all, it met (and perhaps exceeded) any expectations the artwork on the wrapper may have inspired (and it was filling, to boot).
It was close to a complete winner. Unfortunately, like Noah Ngeny, it fell short of the highest ranking. I can't exactly explain why, to be honest; it didn't necessarily do anything wrong. But neither did its memory stick with me afterwards. I thought "Hey, that was good," and then went on my merry way without a thought of whether or not I'd ever meet another Sportlunch.
Therefore, I give the Cloetta Sportlunch a very respectable 3. You can't go wrong with it, and I wouldn't mind buying one sometime (not even a little bit), but it is unlikely to haunt my dreams (or turn me into a superhuman athletic machine).
Even so, Cloetta is to be commended for putting forth such a solid offering. Don't hesitate to pick one up if you happen to be in Sweden (or Norway, for that matter), and as the slogan (which is nothing at all like Nike's slogan) goes, "Just eat it."
Just keep an eye out for any pesky G.I. Joe members in the vicinity.
Until the Sportlunch promise comes to fruition, I remain
The Sweets Fiend
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| Now that's what I'm talking about! |
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