#24 - Cloetta Plopp

If you have spent a reasonable length of time studying the English language (or any language), whether voluntarily or by coercion (i.e., school), you have probably come across a little thing called "onomatopoeia." If you did not know (shame on you or your teachers!), in addition to being a killer word in a spelling bee, "onomatopoeia" refers to the formation of a word based upon the sound said word refers to. Basically, it is an attempt to spell a sound phonetically. For instance, if you happened to have retractable claws, extending them would no doubt result in a "SNIKT" sound (there's no disagreement there, right?).

Perhaps the most well-known use of onomatopoeia is within comics (or the 1960s Batman television show), where sounds need to be represented in a visual manner (I guess a simple graphic of the sound wave would be less conducive to clarity). There are plenty of examples of onomatopoeia, some better than others (likewise, some worse than others). Given that they are based upon the sounds they mean to copy, one might think that onomatopoeic words ought to have some degree of similarity throughout the world. But, as one often is, one would be very wrong (come on, "one," get your act together!).

Still, there are times when they DO bear a striking resemblance, such as in the case of the Cloetta Plopp!

When onomatopoeia goes bad...

I have read many a comic book in my lifetime, but never have I seen "PLOP!" used regarding a candy bar (perhaps I was reading the wrong comics?). I know what you're thinking: surely "Plopp" has some clever meaning in Swedish which brings logic to the lunacy! Sadly, it does not. Look "plopp" up in your favorite Swedish dictionary (we've all got our favorite), and you will find that it translates to "plop."

That is correct, dear reader(s): the Plopp's name is nothing but a lousy use of onomatopoeia. Maybe it refers to the sound the bar makes when dropped. Maybe it is the sound of surrender in the naming of chocolate products. Sweden has come up with some pretty lame names for their sugary goods, but this one may take the cake (mmm... cake). Think of the word "plop." What image comes to mind? Whatever it is, I would bet that it is nothing appetizing (nor exciting, for that matter). It is the most puzzling instance of product naming I've come across since the Violet Crumble.

Name aside, the package is unremarkable. The font choice is ineffective, and the big, plain red-disc-on-blue motif is utterly generic (maybe "Plopp" refers to the graphic design). The only saving grace is the image of the candy itself, which provides a glimmer of hope; it's hard to mess up a chocolate/caramel combo, and it looks as if some thought actually went into the appearance of the candy!

Call me skeptically optimistic at this point.

Abracadabra!

The "best before" date section includes Cloetta's unique disappearing date "feature," which I first came across while reviewing the Sportlunch. Cloetta is not a small company;  they ought to be able to get their hands on an ink with adequate longevity (is the candy naming division  also in charge of ink selection?).

Fortunately, there is enough of the date left to let me know I've just barely gotten to my candy before the magical day when it ceases to be at its best! This is particularly fortunate with the Plopp, which has thus far had an underwhelming showing. The Plopp has been around in one form or another since 1949, so it can't be all bad, and there's a chance (however slight) it might win me over in the end. I do love a good caramel (and a good comeback, as well)!

A quick glance at the nutritional information reveals that the disappearing act is not restricted to the "best before" section, although the effect is much more subtle here. I suppose Cloetta feels it's more important to know the Caloric makeup of the Plopp than to know whether or not it's still fit to be eaten (maybe a more thorough look at the nutritional data would bring one to the conclusion that it's not fit to be eaten in any condition).

Abraca... aw, forget it.

As is the norm with Swedish fare, the data is based on a 100g sample. The Plopp comes in two pieces (the crease in the center is quite noticeable) totaling at 50g. So one must divide by four to learn the facts for a single section (thanks for all the math exercise, Sweden!).

Each piece ends up being about 118 Calories, which is just about standard for a bar of its size (or about 236 Calories for the whole package, if I'm being realistic).

As there's nothing too unusual in this section (though I do love the Finnish phrase "josta tyydyttynyttä"), I guess it's time to move on to the ingredients list:

WARNING: Writing on package may be closer than it appears.

If you are having trouble reading the information above, it is only because I am trying to recreate my experience for you. Even if I were literate in one of the three provided languages, it would be a true challenge to actually read the ingredients. Cloetta ought to include a magnifying glass with each Plopp bar or something. In spite of it all, I can gather that there is milk chocolate and a toffee of some sort involved. That's a start, at least. Opening up the package should be even more enlightening.

Let's get to it, shall we?

PLOPP!

Like many other chocolate bars, the Plopp wrapper opens to expose the backside of the bar. I have already discussed my issue with this, but it's a necessary evil of product development. The back of the Plopp is (surprise, surprise) flat and uninteresting. Mine happened to have a crack going halfway through it. Fortunately, it was not as troubling as it would initially appear; each piece of Plopp (if you had any doubts about how dreadfully awful the name is, say "piece of Plopp" out loud) is divided into three smaller bits. So in theory, one package of Plopp (again, try to say it out loud without cringing) could be easily distributed among six friends. If you are anything like me, though, you do not have five friends, so more for you! That's assuming, of course, that you would in fact want to eat all six nuggets of Plopp. That is still in question.

But another glimmer of hope peeks through the grim prognosis...

You are getting sleepy... You think "Plopp" is a perfectly acceptable name...

Well, what do we have here? The front of the Plopp is a sight for sore eyes (and my eyes WERE sore after trying to read the ingredients)! The face of each bit sports a hypnotic pattern, which is more than welcome after the lackluster performance leading up to it. I feel I've seen it before (though can't place where), but it at least shows a minimal amount of effort, and, at this point, I'm just thankful it's not flat through and through. I should have known; Cloetta has proven in the past to exhibit diligence in providing whimsical appearances for their chocolate products. It is something I value highly and appreciate in a candy manufacturer.

Cloetta has also demonstrated a knack for producing some decent sweets, despite having what I consider a mediocre chocolate. I'm not sure how they manage it, but I applaud them it. That takes some real skill.

Blood is thicker than water. And whatever this is.

Tearing off a chunk of Plopp (ugh) reveals that the caramel-like substance inside is much less viscous than I'd have imagined after seeing the picture on the wrapper; but viscosity is hard to illustrate, so I will give Cloetta a break (just not a break of Plopp).

Truth be told, I was a tad disappointed. I had envisioned a glorious chewy caramel, and this was not it. Perhaps it's my fault for not having the superhuman Swedish vision required to read the ingredients list and creating false expectations.

Eating the Plopp was, sadly, another disappointment. Much like the name (and packaging), the taste simply fell short. I'm not exactly sure even what the flavor was meant to be (I almost detected a slight hint of fruitiness, which I'm pretty sure was just a trick on my taste buds), but I feel certain it missed its mark. It just wasn't very good.

Don't get me wrong, I'd probably eat another if no alternative were available. The problem is that there ARE alternatives available, a good many of alternatives that are much better than the Plopp. Quite frankly, I do not even understand why the Plopp is still being manufactured. It's not that it's that bad, it's that it offers no compelling reason for its existence, as far as I can tell. Wikipedia states that 95% of Plopp is sold in Sweden. I wouldn't be shocked to discover that 95% of Plopp is sold to one individual Swede burdened with a bizarre and unnatural addiction. I can see no other explanation for the Plopp's longevity (as opposed to the longevity of the ink used in Plopp info).

Still, I am going to rate the Cloetta Plopp a 2 (a low 2, at that). I cannot get past my apathy for it, and in no way recommend it to anyone for any purpose. But it exists, as it has for over half a century, and if your sweet tooth is starved and find yourself in a situation with naught but Plopp (an expression I feel should be used more often), it might get the job done.

Again, it's not that bad. But that's hardly a ringing endorsement (I'd propose it be the Plopp's slogan anyway). Apart from the candy design evoking a sense of déjà vu, I found the Plopp to be as dull as it sounds.

Better luck next time, Cloetta. This one just went "PLOP!"

Vanishing before your eyes like a Cloetta "best before" date,
The Sweets Fiend

This looks better than it sounds. Or tastes.