Nutella Quotes

“Lei era entrata in quella parte del cuore dove ci sono le cose più buone, quella simile a una credenza dei dolci
dove c'è la Nutella, i biscotti, le merendine, la marmellata; quell'angolo di cuore dove quando uno ci entra, succeda quel che succeda, da lì non uscirà mai. Non c'entra l'amore. Ci sono persone che da quando le conosci non smetti mai di volergli bene.”
― Fabio Volo, Esco a Fare Due Passi

“Down every aisle a single thought follows me like a shadow: Brand Italy is strong. When it comes to cultural currency, there is no brand more valuable than this one. From lipstick-red sports cars to svelte runway figures to enigmatic opera singers, Italian culture means something to everyone in the world. But nowhere does the name Italy mean more than in and around the kitchen. Peruse a pantry in London, Osaka, or Kalamazoo, and you're likely to find it spilling over with the fruits of this country: dried pasta, San Marzano tomatoes, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, jars of pesto, Nutella.
Tucked into the northwest corner of Italy, sharing a border with France and Switzerland, Piedmont may be as far from the country's political and geographical center as possible, but it is ground zero for Brand Italy. This is the land of Slow Food. Of white truffles. Barolo. Vermouth. Campari. Breadsticks. Nutella. Fittingly, it's also the home of Eataly, the supermarket juggernaut delivering a taste of the entire country to domestic and international shoppers alike. This is the Eataly mother ship, the first and most symbolically important store for a company with plans for covering the globe in peppery Umbrian oil, and shavings of Parmigiano-Reggiano Vacche Rosse.
We start with the essentials: bottle opener, mini wooden cutting board, hard-plastic wineglasses. From there, we move on to more exciting terrain: a wild-boar sausage from Tuscany. A semiaged goat's-milk cheese from Molise. A tray of lacy, pistachio-pocked mortadella. Some soft, spicy spreadable 'nduja from Calabria. A jar of gianduja, the hazelnut-chocolate spread that inspired Nutella- just in case we have any sudden blood sugar crashes on the trail.”
― Matt Goulding, Pasta, Pane, Vino: Deep Travels Through Italy's Food Culture

“In my body’s effort to conserve itself, rather than attempt any movement outside, I have begun eating more sugar than is good for me. Sugar, while a comfort to many, is a detriment to those with my various physical complaints, and even a spoonful could plunge me into violent agony. It is a pleasurable agony, at least, and in my depression and desperation to have anything that resembled nutrition, I ate half a jar of chocolate spread. I know I should not buy these things. I seldom give in to such cibarious cagmaggery, even when it is On Sale, but when summer is imminent, I will do anything to feel better, including eat something that will make me regret my folly.

I am currently crippled on the floor and awaiting death, or I am lately dead and have taught my undead form to use a keyboard, I cannot tell which. I am no longer hot, however, and there is some comfort, whether I am dead or alive. I would rather be alive, I think, if only to buy more chocolate spread.”
― Michelle Franklin, I Hate Summer: My tribulations with seasonal depression, anxiety, plumbers, spiders, neighbours, and the world.

“Tonio had disappeared again into the kitchen—I heard him banging around some dishes. He had this habit of making a huge dish once or twice a week, then freezing it and eating the same thing for every meal until it was gone. Except for breakfasts, which were usually composed of a cappuccino and heaping spoonfuls of Nutella on saltine crackers. As someone who had a lot of feelings about food, I found it a fairly scandalizing arrangement, but I figured it would be just as upsetting if witnessed by the average person.”
― Abigail C. Edwards, And We All Bled Oil

“Toffee chip cookies, pine nut shortbread, raspberry oatmeal bars." She rattles them off. "Sophie says hi and thank you for the onion kuchen recipe, she really appreciated the share. Sent you a Nutella babka as a present." Marcy hands over a second, smaller bag that feels like a brick. Sophie Langer's Nutella babka is about the most perfect food I've ever put in my mouth.”
― Stacey Ballis, How to Change a Life

“He had the sleeves rolled up on his bathrobe, and it was a fairly jarring, chaotic picture he painted, yet somehow he made it seem lazily elegant. Like a sculptor shaping a lump of clay with muddy hands, like feeling along the edges of rolled-out pastry dough to check its thickness, or scoring a flour-dusted bâtard—something weirdly bold and confident about it. The seductive art of Nutella, as taught by one Tonio Salone. Unnerving.”
― Abigail C. Edwards, And We All Bled Oil

“I'd left the soon-to-be-blue doors open, and Clementine had let herself in. As we entered the kitchen, I could see her putting the finishing touches on two bowls of something chocolaty.
"What is this?" I asked, taking a closer look.
Clementine finished her plating and stepped back. "Nutella mousse with hazelnut liqueur, served with chocolate-dipped hazelnut shortbread."
She was good; I had to give her that. Nico and I shared a deep, genetic affinity for the chocolate-hazelnut spread. Without hesitation, I picked up the spoon and dug in.
An intense, perfectly complex Nutella taste met my tongue. My eyes slid shut. "That is so good."
"Try it with the shortbread," Clementine instructed.
I dipped the chocolaty-end of the shortbread into the mousse. The crunch of the cookie set off the rich mousse like a dream. A chocolaty, hazelnutty, Nutella-y dream.
Dragging my attention away from dessert, I looked to Nico to see his reaction.
He stood staring at me, spoon in hand, mousse untouched.
I frowned at him. "What on earth are you waiting for? Eat!"
Nico scowled but dug his spoon into the mousse. He took a bite; his face froze.
"Seriously," I said, working two more spoonfuls, "I might lick the bowl."
Nico shrugged. "It's pretty good."
Clementine squared her shoulders. "Pretty good?"
"You want the job?"
"Yes, I do," she answered.
"I'll think about it," he told her, his expression guarded.
"Thank you," Clementine replied, unfazed.
I scooped another bite of mousse. "This shortbread? It's perfect!"
"It's the French butter. I get it from your grandmother's supplier--he gives us, I mean, me, a good deal. I bake croissants for him. He imports French butter but can't bake. Isn't that sad?"
I nodded, nibbling at the shortbread. "The butter certainly imports a richness of flavor that's quite special.”
― Hillary Manton Lodge, A Table by the Window

“I think it over, licking a smudge of Nutella from my thumb---the last bit of my newest obsession. After lunch yesterday, the chef served dorayaki---Nutella between two castella pancakes. Boom. Mind blown. I ate it and ascended to a higher plane. Since then, the chef has kept me in steady supply, and I love him so much for it.”
― Emiko Jean, Tokyo Ever After

“I head back to my apartment, but not before popping into a small creperie for a Nutella, banana, and coconut crepe because, let's be honest, I'm only human. The shop sits a few doors down from Peregrine Espresso, and even though I spend most days surrounded by flaky croissants and fudge brownies, God help me, I still cannot resist the siren song of a sweet Nutella crepe.
I order it to go, but I dive in before I even leave the store because Nutella is my kryptonite. The rich chocolate hazelnut spread oozes from within the sweet eggy crepe, each bite filled with fresh bananas and bits of toasted coconut.”
― Dana Bate, A Second Bite at the Apple