I’ve got nothing against vanilla. And vanilla has got nothing against me. We can’t even have a fight, because there are no grounds for a fight. Our bullets are duds. But when faced with an array of flavours at my local and not at all parochial ice-cream parlour, I’m more likely to plump for rhubarb and verjuice, despite the fact that I have no idea what verjuice is. It sounds good, is all. It sounds like something a knight and his lady might quaff at a medieval banquet. In goblets. Luckily, there is a helpful bottle of verjuice on display on top of the counter. It is a kind of grape juice, I’m informed. Well there you go. Rhubarb and grape juice. Sounds delicious.
It got me thinking. Things have come to a pretty pass when the reason I’m attracted to a product is simply because I am drawn to the sound of an ingredient. A synaesthetic allure, appealing to both mouth and ear. Verjuice. Virginal. We’re back to damsels and Knights.
Perhaps it is time Vanilla got a rebrand. So here’s my scoop of suggestions:
Madagascan Manna
Very Vanilla
Not So Vanilla
Inscrutably Vanilla
It’s a hard nut to crack. Or pod to burst. I think I may need to move on.
Ariadne Birnberg 