Kit Kat Doom
November 12th, 2008(x-posted from Tuna Cupcake)
When Kate asked me if I wanted to a review a new Kit Kat flavour, I was initially suspicious. I know that Kate is quite fond of her esoteric Kit Kats, particularly when they’re in limited supply. Plus, having followed her long, tortuous journey through the warped world of Nestle’s imagination, I’ve long been suspicious of an eventual decline into the “regrettable” range of flavours: Decaying Flesh, Childhood Trauma, Poison. Fortunately, it just turns out we’re dealing with Cookie Dough here.
Unfortunately, things went a little awry before I had a chance to dig in. You see, the “first” half of the bar was purloined by Kate before I could sink my teeth into it. You know the half I’m talking about: the half with the initial bite, the bite that is pure chocolate. The bite that cleanses the palette, sets the chocolaty baseline in advance of the complex flavours to follow. Without this half, a meaningful reading of the complete experience is difficult to fathom. For all I know, half of the Cookie Dough chocolate bar could be covered in moss, or filled with rotten teeth. Maybe that sort of thing is big in Asia. You’ll have to ask Kate. In the meantime, all I can do is my best.
My initial impressions went something like this: There’s not much going on here. This is certainly one of the more conservative Kit Kat offerings; it’s quite a ways from the explicit, unabashed flavour of Mint or Strawberry. That doesn’t make it bad, mind you. When you think about it, Cookie Dough flavour is perhaps the logical zenith of the core Kit Kat trajectory; the Kit Kat, after all, is largely a cookie. So if you add more cookie-ness, are you really doing something new? Or are you just lifting the traditional offering to a new level? As a fan of the fundamental Kit Kat prototype, I’m not against this way of doing things. I’m enjoying this Cookie Dough Kit Kat — it feels like coming home to an old friend, who has just purchased a slightly larger house with a pool. It’s nice to hang out with my friend, but it’s even better when we have a pool.
However, upon passing the first draft of this review to my editor (Kate), she stormed over to my desk and demanded to know what kind of hack food journalist considers caramel and cookie dough uninteresting. I informed that all Kit Kats had caramel, and she reminded me that I’m used to eating Kit Kat Caramels. It turns out she was right; and this is an important distinction. The Kit Kat Caramel represents a significant improvement over the basic Kit Kat model — in fact, may represent a local peak in candy bar evolution. To say that the Cookie Dough Kit Kat, then, is a minor improvement on the Caramel, is to say that it is a minor improvement on near-perfection.
There is, of course, the creaminess to speak of. The “cookie dough” in question here isn’t so much dough, as a dubious paste. To some, this may be off-putting. However, if you’re any sort of Kit Kat aficionado, you’re probably used to these sorts of shenanigans. The idea isn’t to focus on the individual textures, but on the gestalt; and the creaminess is, for the most part, lost in the familiar crunch of wafer and chocolate. You can tell it’s there, but it doesn’t interfere. It’s nice, but not *too* nice, like a creepy uncle.
As you can probably tell, I would recommend this chocolate bar. It’s nothing revolutionary. But if you want something revolutionary, why are you eating a Kit Kat? Kit Kats are about minor but solid variations on a consistent, underlying theme. In this respect, the Cookie Dough Kit Kat succeeds marvelously. I give it 8.5 Kits out of a possible Kat.
