#41 - Nestlé Polo (original)

Polo (anglicised from the Balti word for "ball;" yes, we essentially call the game "ball") is a competitive team game played on horses. It originated in Persia more than two thousand years ago, but is still played today (and while perhaps not the world's most popular sport, it did inspire a well-known clothing line, so that's something). Water polo (no relation) is a competitive team game played in (what else) water, sans horses, dating back to the late nineteenth century (it is also still played). Marco Polo was a traveler of days gone by (1254-1324), whose name has (relatively recently) been borrowed by a water-based game of blind tag (which involves neither balls nor horses and has no relation to either of the aforementioned games, but, again, is still played).

My point is that there are a lot of things to associate with the word "polo," and each is as likely as any other to come to my mind upon hearing it. But if you're a British mint lover, the word could very well produce a hankering for the ring-shaped candy first manufactured in 1948 by a man named John Bargewell: the Polo mint (in this case, "polo" is allegedly derived from the word "polar," but I have my doubts)!

"Original?" Sorry, but I'm not sure there's anything original about you, Polo.

Now, it wasn't all that long ago that I, in no uncertain terms, declared my lack of fervor for mints. Yet, lo and behold, I find myself again confronted with a pack of the pitiable candies. A small part of me is hopeful, however, as Polo makes no claims about being "extra strong." On the other hand, the candy's slogan is "The Mint with the Hole," which is perhaps the worst slogan I've ever come across (even the Violet Crumble's slogan seems inspired by comparison). If your product's most notable feature is a hole, you might want to reexamine your priorities, especially if your product is not unique in regard to said "feature." Lest you think I'm being overly harsh in my criticism of Polo's obsession with holes, I present to you two bits of information that may sway your opinion in my favor:

Exhibit A: In 2004, Lord Justice Mummery (who arguably has one of the greatest combinations of title and name the world has ever known), dispensed both wit (rough as it might have been) and justice when he rejected Nestlé's appeal to trademark the Polo's unoriginal shape, claiming "This is an appeal with a hole in the middle."

Exhibit B: The slogan is not only lousy, it's also a total rip-off; Life Savers used it (complete with the candy taking the place of the "o") back in 1917, more than thirty years before Polo even existed.

So Polo is basically a knockoff trying desperately to convince the world otherwise. Which is why I question even the origin of the name.

Controversy aside, the packaging is well done; it is not the Lord Justice Mummery of designs, but I would definitely place it well above Trebor's attempt. The color palette and art style toe the line between playful and dignified (which I guess makes it more the Lord Justice Mummery of designs than I'd first thought). Sure, one could argue that it misses the mark on both fronts, but I think the artists at Nestlé ought to be proud of their work here; at least it's not a complete duplicate of its competitors (as far as I know).

This is ugly on so many levels.

Anyhow, the "best before" date on the package is vague (and rather sloppy, if I may say so; are they still using the original printer from 1948?), giving only a month instead of a particular day, which hints at the fact that expiration dates need not be taken too literally. Having had my fair share of "expired" treats, I can say firsthand that candy (especially hard candy) is usually good well beyond the suggested consumption period.

But, as I had tried my first Polo in January (I tend to run late with my reviews, if you hadn't noticed), it's a moot point, so I might as well move on.

Shall we?

How many mints would you like? Seven? Oh, okay.

The nutrition facts panel (which understandably wraps around the roll), reveals that Polo is mostly just sugars (nothing wrong with that, right?). It's not too surprising, really. In fact, its stats are very much in line with other mint products. It is unusual, though, in that I haven't often seen words like "nil" and "trace"in such a section.

"Trace" refers to stuff that's not intended to be in the candy but finds its way in anyhow (because the same equipment is used for multiple products, for instance). It's thoughtful of Nestlé to provide the information; it allows one to concoct any number of theories as to where, say, the protein comes from (I'm guessing insects, personally).

I am not sure why "7 sweets" was chosen as the reference, however. It seems like a lot of mints for any insignificant period of time (I don't know anyone who considers significant periods of time when planning their mint intake), and it can be an awkward number for mental division (fortunately, dividing the 42 by 7 to get 6 Calories per Polo is straightforward enough).

And then we have the ingredients list:

Children under four, please read this carefully!

There aren't many ingredients that go into a Polo (again, not surprising, as it's mostly sugar). The only item to catch my eye was "stearic acid," which, aside from providing some light reading via its Wikipedia page, is not too exciting. The warning about young children choking takes up the lion's share of the section, which is okay with me; if you're going to care more about something than what's in your candy, choking children is a respectable option.

The section ends with an inconspicuous instruction to store the product in a cool and dry place. That's generally good advice for sweets storage and at the present a thankfully simple directive to follow, it being winter here and all.

With the wrapper thoroughly investigated, it was time to unveil the candies in all their untrademarkable (why use real words when a fake one will do?) magnificence:

Wow! They are unlike anything I've ever seen!

Whereas Trebor peppermints are approximately the diameter of a quarter, Polo mints have chosen to emulate the penny (so not even its size is original, though, to be fair, it is between two to three times as thick). Maybe it's just a coincidence, but there seems to be some sort of correlation between the proportions of American coins and British mints. Is it some elaborate scheme to undermine U.S. currency (I might buy into that if the mints weren't worth more than the coins)? I don't know, but it does mean that coin wrappers should double as mint packages in a pinch, so be sure to keep some handy if you have a knack for destroying your British mint wrappers (life hack!).

Besides the "one-of-a-kind" hole, Polo mints are embossed with their name, which isn't at all like Life Saver candies. Not one bit. It's a completely different name and everything. They also look and feel cheaper than other mints I've encountered (perhaps that explains the decision to mimic the penny). All in all, nothing about the Polo had wowed me up to this point.

And then I tasted one.

To my delight and amazement, I liked it! It wasn't merely tolerable; the taste was actually pleasant! What trickery was this? The mint flavoring was definitely on the mild side, and that might just be the key: I do not like strong mints.

It is therefore in the highest of spirits that I rate Nestlé Polo a 3. I rarely purchase mints to satisfy my sweet tooth, but I have been known to buy a pack to fool myself into thinking it will cure my bad breath (the sugars are more likely to reinforce the problem than resolve it, but at least it improves the taste in my mouth), and I wouldn't hesitate to select Polo in such a situation. They may be fairly mundane in every way, but, in the end, I believe that's what won me over. I'll say it again: I do not like strong mints.

So Polo may not be an original candy, but it's a mint I don't dislike, and that's something special. Well done, John Bargewell; my taste buds salute you!

Now to stock up on some coin wrappers...

Shocked and awed,
The Sweets Fiend

Important: Children under four probably shouldn't eat pennies, either.