Sticking 2 brown fingers in our mouths for your amusement.

A couple of weeks ago the inimitable Stu McQuin, well-read sophisticate-philosopher, and I were stunned by the insane amount of mentally flavoured Kit Kats offered by the good people at www.napajapan.com. Some sounded intriguingly exotic, like Azuki Red Bean; some sounded delightful: ginger ale flavour and strawberry cheesecake (all sadly unavailable at the moment), a fair few sounded disgusting . We ordered a couple of each bar that caught our eye. That came to about £40 apiece.  We cut it down to the bare minimum, only those that sounded particularly delicious or horrible, and placed our order. This week, our package arrived.

We decided the best way to work our way through the box of delights was to shut our eyes, reach in and let fate decide our exotic confectionery path.

And so onto our first randomly selected Kit Kat:

1) Royal Milk Tea.

Part of me wanted to jump in at the deep end. Lose my imported Kit Kat virginity to a snarling whore like Vegetable Juice or Roasted Intense Soybean. The rest of me was very happy to walk before running and have an after-months-of-hand-holding-wine-fueled fumble with this well-brought-up girl. I’ve dipped countless Kit Kats in tea in my time and always walked away happy. This should be a breeze.

Once the wrapper was off we were made frighteningly aware how far off the grid we were. Look at it!

If there was one constant in my life, it was the colour of a Kit Kat. The warm British brown, beloved by street sweepers and kings alike. No more.

The bar’s alien tone was reinforced by its floral smell. Not unpleasant, but not like any tea I’ve ever drunk. Less Earl Grey, more pound shop fragrance oil. And unlike any Kit Kat I’ve ever sniffed (and I’ve sniffed my fair share).

At first, it tasted sweet but bland. Then a hint of lemon. But before you can say, “This is meant to be milk tea! Not lemon tea! Those foolish foreigners have no idea what they are doing,” it hits you. Tea. the flavour of proper, stewed, milky, too-many-sugars, tea. Fantastic.

SUCCESS!

2) Flavour Unknown

On randomly selecting our second Kit Kat we encountered our first problem. Our ignorance. Cultural imperialists that we are, we hadn’t factored for the Kit Kat flavour names being written in Japanese (Royal Milk Tea was written in English, probably mirroring the way we’d have a bit of Japanese writing on a packet of green tea, or not. I’m a boor). Our best guess was Green Tea or Wasabi.

Out of the packet, it looked like a real life photoshop job. The familiarKit Kat, but a Jabba The Hutt green. My eyes fought with my brain. My nose was no help. It was preternaturally odourless.

Once again,not much taste-wise to start. Bit wafery, bit sweet. Then, like Axl’s distant screams at the start of Chinese Democracy, came a hint of Caramac which grew ever stronger.

Those of you familiar with Caramacs will know they have a Tesco Value caramel taste, unlike either Green Tea or wasabi. We mused over whether Green Tea flavour is like prawn cocktail crisps, a taste of its  own totally unrelated to the thing it is meant to be simulating. This fascinating line of thought was cut short as, despite not eating any more Kit Kat, the caramac taste grew stronger and stronger. It was as if the cruel man from the Saw films had decided the best way to punish was to build an elaborate machine that would push Caramac after Caramac into my mouth until I cut my knob off or something. Dare I see how intense the flavour got? Should I push my weak Western tastebuds to a level that a boy from Reading could never dream of? No. Lost was about to start. I washed my mouth out with some wine.

After the first bit of Lost (it’s a good episode; the extent of Charles Widmore’s madness was revealed when Jin discovered his plan to build a giant wicker replica of his own laughing face. Alterna-Sawyer showed he’s every bit as quick-witted as his on-island counterpart by calling Daniel Faraday “Weird Al Yankovich”).

Time for Kit Kat number 3:

3) Unknown – possibly Custard Pudding

This had a definite maple syrup smell. We were almost certain it was not Maple Syrup flavour though. This is another Kit Kat with maple leaves on the packet. Again, this was bland at first. But then what Stu described as “a definite creamy custardiness” hit. Absoultely delicious. I was left with a very pleasant creamy sweet coating in my mouth.

After more Lost (the episode went rapidly downhill, an interminable 10 minutes where both Jack and his alternative universe counterpart started sweating profusely. They then pooed out a rock each. Alterjack’s was white and classic Jack’s was black. They then both looked in the mirror and pulled a confused face) we decided this week’s Kit Katting on a high. With the bravery of a lion, Stuart picked out the vilest-sounding Kit Kat:

4) Lemon Vinegar

“I expect this will taste like eating a KFC wipe.”

Upon unwrapping it I was made aware how a mere three Kit Kats had altered my perception of the world. I was disgusted by its brown colour. Luckily, before I could point this out to Stu so he could join me in my mocking of it, I remembered that Kit Kats are normally brown. What had I become?

It smelled like a cross between the forseen (foresmelled?) KFC wipe and a yellow fondant fancy. I was not looking forward to this one.

Initially we were hit by the horrible lemon chocolate familiar to anyone who’s eaten the last chocolate in a shit box of chocolates, and it then went downhill. It had an unpleasantly medicinal aftertaste. The after-aftertaste kicked in and that’s where the vinegar had been hiding.

Vile.

It had been an exhausting first leg of our Kit Kat caper, from soaring with the custard pudding eagles to wriggling in the shit with lemon-vinegar worms, but we still have a way to go. We’ve still got Maple Syrup, Sparkling Strawberry, and Chestnut to look forward to: Vegetable Juice to dread.

Back soon with more Kitkatikazi!