I’m walking down the alleyway to my apartment, clutching my jar of Nutella in both hands and grinning like a child when I realize… the previous jar of Nutella was supposed to be my last. Damn.
My roommate and I had an agreement. When she finished her bag of cookies and I finished my jar of Nutella, we wouldn’t by any more. Well, this new jar that was making me grin like a lunatic was even larger than the previous one. And the one before that and the one… well you get the point. I have a problem. A chocolatey, gooey, hazelnutty, delicious problem.
It’s funny though, I don’t normally eat Nutella at home. At least I don’t normally buy jars of the stuff and eat it like it was a compulsion. I was talking to somebody about this yesterday. It seems that people only get really into Nutella in Europe, even though it is quite available in the states.
Is it because there’s less processed food in Italy and Nutella is a remembrance of the highly processed sugar saturated foods of home? Is it some kind of comfort, some tiny piece of home that we can grasp onto? Something that our American stomachs can recognize and embrace? Who knows.
In any case, with my limited funds I should probably be buying something more substantial, something that will get me through the week perhaps. However, there I found myself in the supermarket, holding nothing but a large jar of Nutella and not feeling one twinge of guilt. Okay maybe a tiny twinge.
Anyways, this is the last jar. I swear…