case study on kitkat

Advertisement

The Drum Awards Festival - Official Deadline

- d - h - min - sec

Case Study: Kit Kat, how to revive an iconic confectionary brand

• Facebook Messenger

By Olivia Atkins, Writer

April 17, 2019 | 3 min read

Listen to article 4 min

Appetite Creative was asked by Nestle to celebrate and highlight the diversity of Kit Kat's flavours. To make it a talked-about brand with a campaign that stands out from the rest. This Kit Kat case study is a perfect example of why the four-finger wafer crisp bar is such a household name.

The infamous Kit Kat chocolate bar has been a staple in pantries since 1935, when the four-finger wafer crisp chocolate bar was launched in London. Initially created by Rowntree’s of York and now produced by the largest food company in the world, Nestle, Kit Kat has enjoyed many renditions over the years - taking many shapes, sizes, and flavours.

Following the success of their newly-launched Mini Moments Desert Pack, which includes delights such as creme brûlée, cherry brownie, tiramisu, and strawberry cheesecake, Appetite Creative was briefed to show off the package and legacy of the iconic Take A Break bar.

With the idea to to show the tempting flavours of Kit Kat on-screen and turn heads with a confronting campaign, Appetite Creative was fuelled by the tagline: “Why choose one when you can have them all" and wanted to create something as visually appealing as the treats themselves - a nod to all the flavours currently available.

Conscious that a creative campaign too dramaticaly different from previous iterations could be distracting for consumers while pop-ups were deemed annoying for consumers, the agency wanted to showcase all of the chocolate's flavours through using a subtle transition via a carousel-type creative.

However, the agency was also aware that a household brand like Kit Kat needed to release something bold, otherwise it may run the risk of being ignored. In this instance, concentrating on the design was essential.

As Nestle was offering five deserts in one pack, Appetite Creative decided to create a liquid desktop skin that bordered the screen using classic Kit Kat branding and blending it in with the highlights that the latest product offered.

A video was added to the header to draw the consumer's attention without getting in the way of any on-screen content. A dynamic looking page frame was added with scroll function that hid the video, lest the user didn't want to engage with the campaign.

An animation was also inserted, playing on the left banner and teasing the separate desserts while the user clicked througn to the page. A Kit Kat featuring the flavoured packaging emerged from the graphic that framed the page to intice users to click on it and reveal an animated skin showcasing the entire range.

Each flavour had its own video element to encourage users to click through. And the stats speak for themselves with a CTR of over 1.5 %, almost eight times the benchmark.

Most of all the campaign proved that even a well-known confectionary brand can be shown off in new ways.

Content created with:

Appetite Creative

The Connected Experiences Studio - We connect your Brand with Today's Audiences! We are a multi-award-winning creative technology studio with a passion to...

More from Advertising

Industry insights.

• Work & Careers
• Life & Arts
• Currently reading: How the KitKat went global
• Jancis Robinson’s guide to the best wines for spring
• Rowley Leigh’s fantasy dinner: a Freudian French feast
• Yasmin Khan: ‘Time in the kitchen is about playfulness’
• Coronaversary chocolate cake — a Honey & Co recipe
• Lockdown has sparked culinary innovation
• How the British-Chinese takeaway took off

How the KitKat went global

• How the KitKat went global on x (opens in a new window)
• How the KitKat went global on facebook (opens in a new window)
• How the KitKat went global on linkedin (opens in a new window)
• How the KitKat went global on whatsapp (opens in a new window)

Gillian Tett

Simply sign up to the Retail & Consumer industry myFT Digest -- delivered directly to your inbox.

In December last year, Nestlé, the Swiss chocolate company based on the scenic shores of Lake Geneva, launched an online advertising campaign in Japan for a “whisky barrel aged” KitKat.

Its three layers of wafers were coated with chocolate made from “rare cacao nibs” aged for 180 days in whisky barrels from the island of Islay — “sacred ground” in Scotland for the drink, or so the Japanese marketing literature says.

This apparently gave the bar “a refined whisky aroma . . . and evokes a calm and relaxed feeling”.

Does this sound weird or wonderful? Is it a display of culinary creativity by Japanese patissier Yasumasa Takagi, who developed the recipe? Or is it just a sign of the gimmicks that consumer goods companies will use to chase margins? Possibly all of the above.

But here is another way to interpret that Scottish-Swiss-Japanese innovation: as a symbol of the paradoxical nature of globalisation today — one that might point to how we consider cultural identities, labels and diversity. We live in an era marked by once-unimaginable levels of global interconnection, ushered in partly by digitisation.

That, after all, is the reason chocolate made from cacao aged in Scottish whisky barrels can be advertised so easily to Japanese consumers — and also discovered by me, an English journalist living in New York.

Yet as digital platforms, cargo ships and planes create connections (and contagions), we are also living through an anti-globalisation backlash, fuelled by economic pain, geopolitical tensions, populism and insecurity in the face of rapid technological change.

Many communities are trying to define their differences — or tribal allegiances — by embracing distinctive cultural signifiers, whether a flag, a language, national dress or a passport.

Food can reflect this: hot dogs, say, seem “American”; sushi, “Japanese”. But the beauty of what we eat and drink is that it signals an oft-overlooked truth: while national labels can be powerful, they are rarely as fixed as people think.

On the contrary, what we feed ourselves with reveals that we live in a world where identities can be wonderfully fluid and ambiguous.

In the 20th century, some social scientists fretted that the world was heading for “Cocacolonisation”: in which brands such as Coke dominated, crushing local competitors, in an expression of western corporate and political power.

But what observers realised subsequently was that this stereotype does not begin to capture what globalisation really does. Yes, cultural memes and objects spread: Coke bottles are found everywhere. But meanings change when they jump borders.

“Coke is often attributed meanings and uses within particular cultures that are very different from those imagined by its manufacturer,” David Howes , an anthropologist, has written. These include smoothing wrinkles in Russia, turning copper into silver in Barbados, and reviving someone from the dead in Haiti, he notes.

Moreover, cultural trends do not move in one direction: as Birmingham’s balti curries and California’s avocado-laden “sushi” rolls show, they ebb back and forth between countries and cultures, creating new fusions all the time. When you look at a whisky barrel aged KitKat, in other words, you are not just seeing a chocolate snack.

KitKat’s past offers clues to its globalised present . In 1862, a Quaker patriarch called Henry Rowntree bought a cocoa works in York, in the north of England. He soon moved it to an unlikely location — a former industrial iron foundry — and built a family sweet-making business with his brother Joseph. They later hired a French confectioner to develop recipes.

In the 1930s, the company launched the milk chocolate-covered wafer we now know as the KitKat after an employee suggested Rowntree’s develop a treat “a man could take to work in his pack”.

Wartime austerity forced a change in recipe and branding, but when life returned to normal KitKat’s popularity boomed, under the tag “The biggest little meal in Britain”. Rowntree’s started exporting it to former British colonies. Its slogan , invented in the late 1950s, endures today: “Have a break, have a KitKat.”

When KitKat arrived in Japan in the 1970s, it was sold as an exotic “British” treat to consumers who were developing a taste for foreign travel. Adverts in Japan showed “British people in distinctly British environments enjoying a KitKat break between action-packed activities,” explained Philip Sugai , a business school professor in Japan, in a case study. “The message revolved around how Japanese people could enjoy life within the British context.”

We didn’t exactly tell Nestlé headquarters what we were doing, because we knew that it would sound so strange [to non-Japanese people] Masafumi Ishibashi, Nestlé manager in Japan

Yet despite being backed by the marketing muscle of multinational Nestlé, which acquired Rowntree’s in 1988, KitKat struggled to compete with confectionery from local producers such as Glico.

“KitKat was seen as a foreign sweet and didn’t look like it would ever be that popular,” says Ross Rowbury, former president of public relations agency Edelman Japan.

Indeed, by the turn of the millennium, executives at Nestlé’s regional office in Kobe, Japan, were asking themselves whether the KitKat brand had a future in the country. Nestlé thought the best way to boost sales was to target students.

But the company’s ethnographic “fly-on-the-wall” research revealed Japanese teenagers did not like the “Have a break” tag. These students were so stressed by juken — the high-pressure exams that have such a bearing on their future — that the only “good break” they wanted was a long rest, not mere chocolate.

But then came a twist that no western corporate planner could have foreseen — or at least not with top-down economic models and consumer polls. In the early 2000s, Masafumi Ishibashi, a local Nestlé manager and his boss, Kohzoh Takaoka, heard that sales of KitKats on the southern Japanese island of Kyushu were surging between December and February. A trend had erupted among teenagers: students had noticed that the word “KitKat” sounded like the Japanese phrase “ kitto katsu ” (“you will overcome”), so they were giving each other the bar as a good-luck token to get through the ordeal of juken .

Initially, this seemed nothing more than a piece of teen trivia. The Kobe team did not dare replace the “Have a break” tag with “ Kitto katsu ” since they knew their bosses in Switzerland wanted to maintain consistency among global brands.

But Takaoka, Ishibashi and the rest of the team decided to try some subtler tactics to capitalise on the student craze and spread it beyond Kyushu. They put the phrase “ Kitto sakura saku yo! ” (“wishes come true!”) in their Japanese adverts and asked hotels next door to exam centres to distribute KitKats to students with this slogan on a postcard.

The wording was astute: literally, it means “the cherry blossoms will bloom”. “Because of the revered position that the cherry blossom season [holds] in Japan, blooming cherry trees [are] equated with abundance and success,” Sugai wrote in his case study.

Ishibashi adds: “We didn’t exactly tell Vevey [Nestlé headquarters] what we were doing, because we knew that it would sound so strange [to non-Japanese people]. We wanted to start quietly and see if it would work.”

It did: sales of KitKats exploded among students across Japan. Teenagers redefined the bar as an omamori , the good-luck token sold at Shinto shrines and Buddhist temples. In January 2003, 34 per cent of Japanese teenagers told pollsters that a KitKat was their favourite good-luck charm, second only to an omamori blessed by a genuine Shinto priest. “It was amazing,” recalls Ishibashi. “[Chocolate] became an omamori .”

Eventually, the Japanese team told their bosses in Vevey what was going on. Wisely, executives in Switzerland allowed the team to continue with their cultural experiments. In Kobe, the KitKat packaging was redesigned to enable students to write good-luck messages on it, then Japan’s postal service was persuaded to accept them as prepaid envelopes. “Nobody had ever done that before with the postal system,” observed Sugai.

When Fukushima in eastern Japan was hit by a tsunami in 2011, people sent KitKat boxes to the workers tasked with reconstruction as a form of encouragement. Later, special boxes even became valid as train tickets under a scheme to boost tourism to Fukushima.

Flavours became embedded in regional identities, such as purple sweet potato from Okinawa or cheese from Hokkaido

Nestlé’s Kobe team broadened their experimentation beyond marketing. To UK consumers, a KitKat was a brown chocolate snack bar, but in 2003, the Kobe team created a pink KitKat by adding strawberry powder. They then made one with matcha (green tea) powder.

To date, they have created more than 300 local flavours, including wasabi, soy sauce, sake and even, in 2017, a limited-edition throat-lozenge flavour to soothe hoarse Japanese football fans cheering on the national team in the World Cup qualifying campaign.

A few of these innovations embraced non-Japanese flavours as novelties. However, most expressed a sense of Japanese identity through food. Over time, flavours became embedded in Japan’s regional identities too, such as purple sweet potato from Okinawa or cheese from Hokkaido. These are now sold as tourist souvenirs ( omiyage ) at Japanese railway stations.

To British or Swiss tastes, such flavours can seem strange. Indeed, foreign tourists often buy them as souvenirs of Japanese, as opposed to British, culture. But strange or not, the craze had turned the bar into one of the top-selling chocolate brands in Japan.

The KitKat’s rise there was so dramatic that Ryoji Maki, one of the Kobe executives who had introduced the wild new flavours, was promoted to KitKat’s global brand manager in Vevey.

Then came the final twist: Nestlé launched the matcha KitKat in the UK, where it sold fairly well. Strictly speaking, this was not a made-in-Japan import: the bars are manufactured in Germany. But green-tea chocolate (the KitKat bars themselves are green ) was not something British consumers could have imagined 50 years ago.

“What this story shows is that you have to think outside the mainstream,” Maki told his baffled non-Japanese colleagues at a presentation — showing pictures of Japanese students clutching KitKat bars as omamori during exams. “You have to listen to consumers.” Or, more accurately, recognise that consumer tastes are more creative than executives might understand.

Would the Rowntrees have approved of all this? I like to think so. Victorian England, after all, was another period of globalisation, when trends collided across borders, albeit often under unequal circumstances. As entrepreneurs, the Rowntrees knew that commercial success relies on having a flexible mind and being willing to pinch good ideas from any source.

Therein lies the biggest point of all — not so much about our taste buds but about how we imagine identity today. The 21st century is a fractured time when politicians promote narrow nationalisms, draw boundaries between “us” and “them” and express antagonistic cultural allegiances.

But what the journey of KitKat, like so many other foods, shows is that labels can also be malleable, in a good way.

Whatever you think of whisky barrel aged KitKats, we can all celebrate the fact that a brown chocolate bar has turned green, and become Anglo-Swiss-Scottish-Japanese along the way. Let us hope it can be a metaphor for politics as well.

Gillian Tett is the FT’s US editor-at-large.

Parts of this article are based on Gillian’s book ‘Anthro-Vision: How Anthropology Can Explain Business and Life’ , to be published in June

Follow @FTMag on Twitter to find out about our latest stories first.

Letter in response to this article:

Unwrapping a name like a chocolate bar / From Wayne Kitcat, Abinger, Surrey, UK

Promoted Content

Explore the series.

Follow the topics in this article

• Retail & Consumer industry Add to myFT
• Food & Drink Add to myFT
• Japanese society Add to myFT
• Globalisation Add to myFT
• FT Magazine Add to myFT

International Edition

• Dec 23, 2020

KitKat advertising analysis: Have a Break, Have a KitKat

Updated: May 28, 2021

You can listen to the podcast of this same blog post, here

I am sure kitkat has been one of the favorite chocolate for most of us., so if i ever ask you to associate a few words that you can relate to the chocolate, it would be the red wrapper, the famous tagline of ‘have a break, have a kitkat’, and many more things., kitkat has, for years now, associated itself with this particular style of consuming it., taking the chocolate out of the red wrapper, creating a slit in the silver foil through your fingernails, breaking the biscuit, and then devouring the chocolaty biscuit goodness., as a kid, it was this style of consuming the chocolate that hooked me up, and now as an adult, i don’t have it any other way, in today’s blog post, we analyze the advertising communication of kitkat over the years and also try to understand how important a role did the tagline ‘have a break, have a kitkat’, played in the success of the brand., the post includes the following:, 1. brief history of kitkat, 2. the introduction and growth of the tagline ‘have a break, have a kitkat’, 3. advertising campaign analysis of kitkat in india, 4. advertising learnings, let’s look at each one of them in detail now, watch the youtube video.

1. Brief History of KitKat

Kitkat was launched back in 1935 in london, back then the chocolate was called ‘rowntree’s chocolate crisp’., however, two years later it was renamed as ‘kitkat chocolate crisp’ and after world war ii, the ‘chocolate crisp’ was dropped as well., back in those days, the flavor of the chocolate kept changing due to the unavailability of resources during and post the war period., and this was the first and the last time, when the iconic red wrapper of kitkat was replaced with a blue one- that denoted lack of fresh milk., the name ‘kitkat’ comes from christopher catling’s famous political and literary club called kitkat., today, the brand is present in more than 80 countries., kitkat has been in india since 1995., fun fact: with around 540 kit kat fingers consumed every second worldwide and 17.6 billion fingers sold every year, kit kat got featured in the guinness book of records in march 2010., the tagline ‘have a break, have a kitkat was introduced back in 1958 by donald gillies, working at the ad agency jwt in london., the launch of the tagline was made with 4 commercials and a press campaign., after the launch, the consistent usage of the tagline has now made it an advertising icon in itself and is now a registered property of the brand., the tagline had intended double meaning for the word ‘break’- first, the break associated with breaking the breaking the chocolate piece, and second, the break associating with resting., over the years, the brand and the advertising agencies using the slogan could come up with multiple alterations that helped the brand stick to the tagline., it takes years for a brand to build something this iconic, and more than a building, be able to sustain it for a long time., today the tagline is used across the countries, and each country manages to add its own layer of creativity- that’s what makes the tagline so versatile., from then, till now, the brand has ensured ‘no breaks’ when it comes to the tagline., barring one occasion., this year, that is,2020 marked the 85th anniversary of the brand, and they decided to launch a global campaign on social media., the campaign revolved around people coming up with a ‘soundalike’ variant of the tagline, while the brand takes a break from the original tagline for 10 days., it was centered around a competition whereby, the best slogan/tagline would be picked at the end of the competition., kitkat has been responsible for some of the most iconic campaigns over the years, we will share a few of them here, in the order of past to present, 1. the adorable squirrel dance (2010).

As a kid, I remember this commercial distinctly, and over the years if I had to pick my favorite from the lot, it has to be this one.

The focus of the advertisement was to bring in a new spin to the usual tagline and there was a clear shift from the product usefulness to the benefit of the consumer., the line ‘zindagi aapko shayad kuch haseen dikha de’ was highlighting the consumer benefit in this case., 2. babies dancing (2013).

Similar spin to the previous one, but here the line was slightly tweaked to ‘Na jaane aagla pal kya le aaye’.

The baby's dancing style has been incorporated by evian for years now, and this campaign seemed very similar to that., the ad focuses on you noticing something ‘good’ which you might have missed otherwise, had it not been for kitkat., i feel the best part about this ad is the catchy tune, that makes you tap your feet and brings a wide smile on your face, watching the babies dance., 3. the rapping announcer (2016).

The tagline ‘Har break hai mauka, Kuch Alag Kar dikhaneka’ is again adding a new twist to the existing tagline.

And this ad truly highlighted the flexibility that the tagline brings in., the execution was flawless, and it created this peculiar interest in the mind of the viewers, everyone needed the answer to ‘will verma make it’ and hence you wanted to watch the video till the end., 4. kitkat break with ayushman (2020).

2020 was a different year, a year that demanded changes in the creative approach of the brand.

Keeping the same in mind, kitkat created a very relatable scenario of online classes., they roped in ayushman khurana as the brand ambassador, thanks to his tremendous youth-centric following., the communication was simple yet in the same zone of ‘break banta hai’, these learnings are a combination of all 4 advertising campaigns., a. tagline consistency helps in brand recall, if i were to only mention the tagline ‘have a break, have a ___’ we would still be able to relate to the brand kitkat., that’s the power of consistency, and it helps tremendously with brand recall., b. focus on customer experiences, one most important thing that can be observed through these ad campaigns is that they talk about customer experiences after consumption of the product., and this helps the brand because consumers are constantly on the lookout for the answer to what’s in it for me, c. consistent brand colors create a stronger connection, this learning is not specific to the advertising campaigns but rather the product itself., the red and silver packaging has been constant since the start; this helps consumers relate to the brand in a much more direct way., also read: google advertising campaigns in india.

• Ad Campaigns

Recent Posts

What goes behind a 30-sec television advertising spot in India?

Sebamed Vs HUL: Understanding Comparative Advertising

Top 10 Indian advertisements from the 90s

The Brand Hopper

All Brand Stories At One Place

A Deep Dive into Marketing Strategies of KitKat

A Deep Dive into Marketing Strategies of KitKat 20 min read

Few chocolate bars can claim the global recognition and enduring popularity of the KitKat. This iconic treat, famous for its crisp wafers enrobed in chocolate, has been a beloved snack for nearly nine decades. Originating in 1935 as Rowntree’s Chocolate Crisp in the United Kingdom, the KitKat has since conquered taste buds around the world with its delightful combination of textures and flavors. From its innovative design to its ever-expanding range of flavors, KitKat’s story is one of delicious ingenuity and continuous reinvention.

The brainchild of British confectionery company Rowntree’s, the KitKat was born from a desire to create a convenient and mess-free chocolate bar suitable for on-the-go consumption. The original four-finger design, inspired by a worker’s suggestion for a snack that could fit neatly in a lunchbox, proved to be a stroke of genius. The combination of crisp wafer layers and creamy milk chocolate offered a satisfying textural contrast and a delightful flavor profile that resonated with consumers. The success of the four-finger bar was quickly followed by the introduction of the two-finger version in 1936, further solidifying KitKat’s reputation as a perfect pick-me-up snack.

The name “KitKat” itself has a curious history. While the exact origin remains shrouded in some mystery, there’s evidence of the term “Kit Kat” or “Kit Cat” being used in the 18th century in reference to mutton pies served at London’s exclusive Kit-Cat Club. Rowntree’s trademarked the names “Kit Cat” and “Kit Kat” in 1911, though they weren’t initially used for the chocolate bar. It wasn’t until the 1930s that “Kit Kat” became associated with the now-famous wafer treat.

Following its successful launch in the UK, KitKat’s journey to global domination began. Nestlé , the Swiss multinational food and beverage giant, acquired Rowntree’s in the 1980s, giving KitKat a powerful platform for international expansion. The brand’s iconic “Have a break, have a Kit Kat” slogan, introduced in the 1950s, became a global marketing success, perfectly capturing the essence of the chocolate bar as a well-deserved treat during a busy day.

KitKat’s enduring popularity can be attributed to several factors. The chocolate bar’s convenient size and mess-free design make it ideal for on-the-go snacking. The combination of crispy wafers and creamy chocolate offers a satisfying textural and flavor experience. Nestlé’s commitment to innovation has resulted in a vast array of KitKat flavors, catering to diverse palates around the world. From classic milk chocolate to adventurous options like matcha and salted pretzel, there’s a KitKat flavor for everyone. Limited-edition flavors and collaborations with popular brands further fuel consumer interest and excitement.

Beyond its delicious taste, KitKat has become ingrained in popular culture. The distinctive red wrapper and the catchy jingle are instantly recognizable. The chocolate bar has been featured in movies and television shows, solidifying its place in our collective consciousness. In Japan, KitKat has reached a cult-like status, with an incredible variety of unique flavors and a strong association with good luck.

With its rich history, innovative spirit, and global appeal, KitKat remains a true confectionery icon. As the brand continues to evolve and adapt to changing consumer preferences, one thing is certain: KitKat will continue to be a beloved snack enjoyed by people of all ages around the world.

Table of Contents

Target Market of KitKat

KitKat’s target audience is as wide as its reach. The brand purposefully avoids a narrow demographic, aiming instead for anyone who enjoys a sweet treat. This is reflected in their pricing strategy – KitKat sits comfortably below premium chocolate options , making it an accessible indulgence for a broad range of consumers. The “Have a Break, Have a KitKat” tagline further emphasizes this goal, positioning the chocolate bar as a welcome reward during a busy day, relatable to people of all ages and backgrounds.

KitKat’s marketing strategy reinforces this inclusive approach. Their advertisements utilize a variety of channels, from television and social media to traditional print media like newspapers and billboards. This ensures their message reaches a vast audience, encompassing those who spend time online as well as those who consume traditional media. The brand’s commitment to social responsibility, such as their goal of reaching 160,000 cocoa-farming families , further strengthens its appeal to a generation of consumers who value ethical practices alongside delicious taste.

With its broad target audience, mass appeal marketing, and commitment to affordability and social responsibility, KitKat continues to be a global chocolate favorite, enjoyed by people from all walks of life.

Marketing Strategies of KitKat

KitKat, a beloved chocolate-covered wafer bar, has employed various marketing strategies over the years to establish itself as an iconic brand in the confectionery industry. Here’s a detailed overview of some of its key marketing strategies:

1. Brand Positioning

KitKat has carved out a unique space in the chocolate bar market through its clever brand positioning. The brand uses the tagline “Have a Break, Have a Kit Kat” to position itself as the go-to indulgence for people of all ages who need a moment of respite during their day. This broad appeal is further emphasized by their description as “broad in appeal, young in feel, big in stature.” While the chocolate itself caters to a general love of chocolate, the messaging positions KitKat as more than just a sweet treat – it’s a well-deserved reward for making it through life’s busy moments.

This focus on breaks is further solidified by KitKat’s extensive marketing campaigns. For decades, the brand has associated itself with breaks across various contexts, from lunchtime pick-me-ups to post-workout refuelling, romantic woes, and even celebratory moments. This reinforces the idea that a KitKat isn’t just a chocolate bar – it’s a mental and physical break embodied in a delicious snack.

While KitKat doesn’t boast the strongest brand awareness compared to some competitors, its social media presence is noteworthy. With a million followers on Instagram and 24 million on Facebook, the brand leverages these platforms to connect with its audience. Their use of “moment marketing” allows them to interact with other brands and trends in real-time, keeping KitKat relevant and relatable in the ever-evolving social media landscape. These strategies solidify KitKat’s position as a familiar and comforting companion for people seeking a delicious and well-deserved break.

2. Product Innovation

KitKat’s commitment to innovation has been a key driver of its success. The brand consistently expands its offerings, ensuring something for every taste bud and catering to evolving consumer preferences. This is evident in the introduction of KitKat Chunky in 1999 , a thicker version of the original bar that satisfied those seeking a more indulgent experience. Further innovation came in 2006 with KitKat Senses , a line featuring creamy fillings like mint and hazelnut, adding a delightful textural contrast and flavor dimension to the classic KitKat experience.

Beyond core product variations, KitKat explores flavor combinations. Launched in 2010, KitKat Duos offered bars featuring two types of chocolate, like milk and white chocolate or dark and mint chocolate. This catered to a desire for exciting flavor pairings, keeping the brand relevant and appealing to a curious consumer base. Similarly, KitKat Mini Breaks (2011) and KitKat Bites (2012) addressed the need for convenient, portion-controlled snacking options, perfect for on-the-go consumption.

Innovation extends beyond just the chocolate itself. The 2014 introduction of KitKat Chocolatory showcased the brand’s willingness to experiment with premium ingredients, featuring flavors like ruby chocolate, matcha green tea, and salted caramel. This catered to a growing market interested in more sophisticated chocolate experiences. This spirit of innovation extends to KitKat’s commitment to sustainability, with their 2016 switch to 100% sustainably sourced cocoa and their 2018 campaign highlighting this focus. By constantly evolving its product line, packaging, and messaging, KitKat stays at the forefront of the chocolate bar market, ensuring its status as a beloved and ever-relevant treat.

3. Integrated Marketing Communications (IMC)

KitKat’s success can be partly attributed to its well-integrated marketing communication (IMC) strategy. This strategy revolves around reinforcing the brand’s core identity of being the perfect break-time companion and uses a variety of channels to deliver that message consistently. Television, radio, print advertisements, social media platforms, and even in-store promotions all work together to create a unified brand experience for consumers.

The cornerstone of this IMC strategy is the iconic “Have a Break, Have a Kit Kat” campaign, launched in the 1950s and still going strong today. These ads, known for their lighthearted humor and use of celebrities, perfectly capture the essence of the brand. By depicting people taking a well-deserved break with a KitKat, the campaign not only reinforces the brand identity but also encourages consumers to do the same. The long-running success and memorability of this campaign solidify its effectiveness as a core pillar of KitKat’s IMC strategy.

Beyond the central campaign, KitKat demonstrates its marketing agility through various additional IMC efforts. They promote new product launches like KitKat Chunky and KitKat Senses with targeted campaigns, ensuring these innovations reach their intended audience. The brand further demonstrates its awareness of current events by tailoring campaigns to coincide with major happenings like the Olympics or the World Cup. This flexibility and willingness to adapt their message to different contexts showcases a well-rounded IMC strategy that keeps KitKat relevant and engaging for consumers across all touchpoints. By seamlessly weaving together various communication channels with a consistent brand message, KitKat’s IMC strategy is a key factor in its global popularity and enduring success.

4. Social Media Engagement

KitKat understands the power of social media engagement in today’s digital landscape. Their social media strategy focuses on a three-pronged approach: fostering connections with consumers, strengthening brand identity, and keeping their audience informed about current activities, campaigns, and new product offerings.

Across major platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, KitKat maintains an active presence. They leverage Facebook for extensive campaign rollouts, while employing “moment marketing” on all platforms. This tactic involves interacting with other brands in real-time, capitalizing on trending topics and fostering a sense of connection with their audience. For instance, collaborations with other popular snack brands demonstrate KitKat’s willingness to engage in playful banter and unexpected partnerships, keeping their social media presence dynamic and engaging.

The brand tailors its social media strategy to each platform. On Instagram, KitKat utilizes the platform’s visual focus to launch campaigns with fresh perspectives on their iconic tagline, “Have a Break, Have a KitKat.” One such campaign, “Celebrate the Breakers,” highlights the diverse ways people take breaks, resonating with a wider audience and showcasing KitKat as a companion for all types of breaks. This targeted approach ensures their message reaches the right audience on the right platform. The impressive follower counts –  1 million on Instagram and a staggering 25 million on Facebook – solidify the success of KitKat’s social media engagement strategy. By consistently using the word “break” across their posts and actively interacting with their followers, KitKat fosters a strong brand identity and a loyal online community.

5. Partnerships and Collaborations

KitKat extends its reach beyond delicious treats through a variety of strategic partnerships. These collaborations not only expand brand awareness but also connect KitKat with diverse audiences and foster a sense of engagement. Let’s delve into some of KitKat’s key partnerships:

• Esports: Recognizing the growing popularity of esports, KitKat has established partnerships with leading organizations like Giants Gaming and Riot Games . The 2021 collaboration with Giants Gaming, continuing with GIANTX post-merger, focuses on content creation and campaigns within the Spanish market. Their role as the main partner for the EMEA LoL esports ecosystem until 2026 allows KitKat to connect with a vast audience of gamers across Europe, the Middle East, and Africa.

• Flavor Innovation: KitKat isn’t afraid to push boundaries when it comes to taste. Their 2022 collaboration with MILO , a popular malt beverage in Australia and Southeast Asia, resulted in a unique KitKat flavor featuring a MILO choc-malt fudge filling. This partnership catered to a specific regional audience and offered a new flavor experience.
• Community Support: KitKat demonstrates its commitment to social responsibility through partnerships like the one with the Memphis Music Initiative . This initiative supports aspiring musicians like Gia Howell, showcasing KitKat’s dedication to fostering artistic talent.
• Strategic Co-Branding: KitKat isn’t afraid to think outside the box. In 2013, they partnered with Google for a unique co-branding venture, naming Android version 4.4 “KitKat.” This collaboration brought together two global giants, generating significant marketing buzz for both brands.

• Fashion & Design: Always looking for fresh perspectives, KitKat partnered with Australian designer Georgia Perry in 2017 . This collaboration resulted in a limited-edition “Georgia Perry for KITKAT CHOCOLATORY” range, showcasing KitKat’s willingness to explore the world of design.

KitKat’s diverse partnerships highlight the brand’s adaptability and willingness to connect with new audiences. From the world of esports to the realm of fashion, KitKat demonstrates a collaborative spirit that keeps the brand relevant, engaging, and ever-evolving.

6. Sponsorships and Events

KitKat  has actively involved itself in the world of esports. They’ve partnered with major games and organizations like League of Legends, Dota 2, Overwatch, BLAST, and AGO Rogue. KitKat’s involvement goes beyond just in-game sponsorships. They’ve also partnered with specific teams, like the Spanish organization Giants, where their branding appears on team jerseys. Additionally, KitKat became the official candy sponsor for the Los Angeles Valiant, an Overwatch League franchise.

Looking beyond esports, KitKat has also ventured into sponsoring influencer breaks. In a unique move, they sponsored the breaks and stream schedules of five influencers in France for three months. This marked the first instance where a brand sponsored a streamer’s downtime on Twitch.

Most recently, KitKat has been involved in events like the My Voice Forum Hong Kong 2023, the March 8th, 2024 #SheSpeaks Vol., and the #MyVoice Book – Vol. released on January 31st, 2024. These sponsorships showcase KitKat’s multifaceted approach to brand promotion, reaching out to both gamers and a wider audience.

7. Packaging Design

KitKat cleverly leverages its packaging as a key marketing tool. The design strikes a perfect balance between memorability and functionality. The bright red wrapper is a guaranteed attention grabber on store shelves , instantly recognizable by consumers. It complements the brand’s tagline, “Have a break, have a KitKat”, which is another stroke of marketing genius in its simplicity and memorability.

This iconic red packaging has remained largely unchanged for over 60 years . This consistency fosters a sense of nostalgia and brand familiarity across generations. However, KitKat understands the need to stay fresh. They occasionally introduce limited-edition designs, like the gold wrapper for their 50th anniversary. These special releases add excitement and prevent the brand from becoming stale.

Beyond visual appeal, KitKat prioritizes functionality in its packaging. The wrappers are designed for easy opening and closing, ensuring a convenient snacking experience. Each chocolate bar is individually wrapped, preserving freshness. Additionally, the packaging provides clear information about ingredients and nutritional value, catering to health-conscious consumers.

In conclusion, KitKat’s packaging is a masterclass in effective marketing. It’s visually striking, instantly recognizable, and fulfills its core function of protecting the product. The consistent red design builds brand loyalty, while occasional limited editions keep things interesting. This thoughtful approach ensures KitKat remains a top contender in the candy aisle.

By employing these comprehensive marketing strategies, KitKat has successfully maintained its status as a leading chocolate brand worldwide while continually adapting to evolving consumer preferences and market dynamics.

Marketing Mix of KitKat

KitKat’s success story can be attributed to its well-defined marketing mix, meticulously crafted across the 4Ps: Product, Price, Place, and Promotion. Let’s delve into each element to understand how KitKat strategically positions itself in the market.

Core Product: The star of the show is the KitKat chocolate bar itself. Its unique four-finger design, smooth milk chocolate, and crispy wafer offer a satisfying and convenient snack experience.

Quality: KitKat prioritizes consistent quality using high-grade ingredients. This ensures a delightful taste and texture in every bite, fostering brand trust and loyalty.

Branding: The iconic red packaging and the catchy slogan “Have a break, have a KitKat” create a strong brand identity. The red color is associated with energy and fun, perfectly aligning with the brand’s image.

Variety: KitKat caters to diverse palates by offering a wide range of flavors alongside the classic milk chocolate. This includes options like dark chocolate, white chocolate, peanut butter, and seasonal specialties.

Innovation: KitKat stays relevant by introducing new flavors and formats. Limited-edition releases like the ruby chocolate KitKat or KitKat bars with different portion sizes cater to evolving consumer preferences and create excitement.

Competitive Pricing: KitKat adopts a competitive pricing strategy, ensuring its products are accessible to a broad consumer base. This allows them to compete effectively with other chocolate bar brands in the market.

Value Pricing: KitKat positions itself as a value-for-money proposition. The four-finger bar offers a more substantial and satisfying snack compared to single-bite chocolates, justifying its price point.

Price Promotions: KitKat occasionally offers price promotions, discounts, or bundled deals to incentivize purchase and boost sales during specific periods.

Distribution Channels: KitKat employs a widespread distribution network, making its products readily available across various channels. This includes supermarkets, convenience stores, gas stations, vending machines, and online retailers.

Accessibility: KitKat ensures its products are conveniently located within stores, often positioned near checkout counters to capitalize on impulse purchases.

Global Presence: KitKat is a global brand, available in over 100 countries. This extensive reach allows them to cater to a vast international audience.

4. Promotion

Advertising: KitKat utilizes various advertising channels to reach its target audience. This includes television commercials, online advertising, and social media marketing. Their ads are known for being lighthearted, relatable, and memorable, effectively conveying the brand’s message of taking a break and enjoying a KitKat.

Public Relations: KitKat cultivates positive brand image through public relations activities. Sponsorships of esports tournaments, events like My Voice Forum, and influencer partnerships generate positive brand association and reach new demographics.

Packaging Design: As discussed earlier, KitKat’s packaging itself acts as a powerful promotional tool. The bright red wrapper and the catchy tagline serve as constant visual reminders of the brand.

Experiential Marketing: KitKat occasionally engages in experiential marketing campaigns, creating interactive experiences for consumers. This allows for direct brand engagement and leaves a lasting impression.

By strategically implementing these 4Ps, KitKat has carved a unique niche in the chocolate bar market. Their product offering caters to diverse preferences, their pricing strategy ensures affordability, their widespread distribution makes them readily available, and their creative promotions effectively reach their target audience. This meticulous approach has cemented KitKat’s position as a beloved and globally recognized chocolate brand.

SWOT Analysis of KitKat

KitKat’s enduring success can be attributed to its capitalizing on its strengths, mitigating weaknesses, seizing opportunities, and addressing threats. Let’s dissect each element of its SWOT analysis for a clearer picture:

Unique Offering: KitKat’s signature four-finger wafer coated in creamy chocolate creates a delightful textural contrast and a satisfying bite-sized indulgence. This unique format sets it apart from standard chocolate bars.

Nestlé Brand: As a product under the Nestle umbrella, KitKat benefits from brand recognition, trust, and global reach. Nestle’s reputation for quality control ensures consistent taste and experience.

Strong Tagline: “Have a break, have a KitKat” is a marketing triumph. It’s catchy, memorable, and perfectly captures the brand’s essence of offering a well-deserved break.

Distribution Network: KitKat boasts a vast and efficient distribution network, making it readily available in supermarkets, convenience stores, vending machines, and online retailers across over 100 countries.

Duplication: While the unique wafer design is a strength, the chocolate coating itself isn’t vastly different from competitors. This can make it susceptible to generic store brand imitations, potentially confusing consumers and impacting sales.

Breakability: The chocolate-coated wafer design, while delicious, can be fragile and prone to breakage during transport or handling. This can be frustrating for consumers and lead to a negative perception of quality.

Packaging Appeal: While recognizable, KitKat’s packaging might be considered dated compared to flashier designs used by some competitors. Modernizing the packaging without losing brand identity could enhance its visual appeal.

Corporate Social Responsibility: KitKat, like its parent company Nestle, has faced criticism regarding its sourcing practices and potential use of child labor in the cocoa supply chain. Addressing these concerns and implementing transparent ethical sourcing practices is crucial.

Opportunities

Digital Marketing: Leveraging the power of social media and influencer marketing can create a strong online presence, connect with younger demographics, and promote KitKat’s brand message in engaging ways. User-generated content campaigns can further amplify brand reach.

Market Growth: The global chocolate market is projected to continue growing. KitKat can capitalize on this by expanding its presence in emerging markets and tailoring offerings to local preferences.

Healthy Snacking: Health-conscious consumers are a growing segment. KitKat can explore healthier alternatives like using dark chocolate, whole grains in the wafer, or introducing portion-controlled options to cater to this trend.

Health Awareness: The growing focus on health and wellness might lead consumers to opt for healthier snacks, potentially impacting KitKat’s sales of traditional chocolate bars.

Competition: The chocolate market is fiercely competitive, with established players like Cadbury and Hershey’s constantly innovating. KitKat needs to maintain its competitive edge through product diversification, strategic marketing, and staying abreast of consumer trends.

Supplier Bargaining Power: The cocoa and dairy industries are subject to price fluctuations. KitKat’s dependence on these raw materials makes it vulnerable to supplier bargaining power, potentially impacting profit margins. Negotiating long-term contracts and exploring alternative sourcing options can mitigate this risk.

Inflation: Rising inflation can increase production costs for KitKat’s ingredients and packaging. Maintaining profitability might require optimizing production processes, exploring cost-effective sourcing, or carefully considering price adjustments.

By continuously evaluating its strengths and weaknesses, and proactively addressing both opportunities and threats, KitKat can ensure its long-term success. Embracing innovation in product development, ethical sourcing practices, and digital marketing strategies will be key to maintaining its position as a global chocolate favorite.

Competitor Analysis of KitKat

KitKat reigns supreme in the chocolate market, but faces competition on multiple fronts. Here’s a detailed breakdown of KitKat’s competitor landscape:

Direct Competitors:

• Cadbury Dairy Milk: The undisputed leader, Dairy Milk enjoys a loyal following and wider product range.

• Hershey’s: The American giant with its classic bar and variants like Reese’s Cups and Twix directly competes with KitKat on price and brand recognition.

• Mars: Snickers, Mars bars, and Milky Way target similar demographics as KitKat, offering a mix of chocolate, caramel, and peanuts.

Indirect Competitors:

• Premium Chocolates: Brands like Lindt and Ghirardelli position themselves as more luxurious, targeting consumers seeking a higher-end chocolate experience.
• Chocolate Snacks: M&Ms, Twix, and bite-sized chocolates compete for on-the-go snacking needs, though they may not directly resemble a KitKat bar.
• Alternative Indulgences: Ice cream, cookies, and other sweet treats vie for a share of consumers’ dessert budgets.

Competitive Strategies:

• Product Differentiation: KitKat offers a variety of flavors and textures (KitKat Chunky) to cater to diverse preferences.
• Marketing and Branding: KitKat’s famous “Have a Break, Have a KitKat” slogan and playful imagery create a strong brand identity.
• Distribution Network: Nestle, KitKat’s parent company, boasts a vast global network, ensuring wide availability.

Challenges for KitKat:

• Rising Costs: Ingredients like cocoa and dairy are susceptible to price fluctuations, impacting KitKat’s affordability.
• Competition: The chocolate market is crowded, with new players and innovative products constantly emerging.
• Health Concerns: Consumers are increasingly health-conscious, and KitKat’s sugar content could be a deterrent for some.

By understanding the competitive landscape and adapting its strategies, KitKat can maintain its position as a global chocolate favorite.

Also Read: Satisfyingly Sweet: Snickers Flavors and Marketing Strategies

To read more content like this, subscribe to our newsletter

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment.

Related Posts

Who are the accenture’s top competitors & alternatives, who are bank of america’s top competitors, who are coca-cola’s top competitors and alternatives.

Terms and Conditions

The New York Times

Magazine | in japan, the kit kat isn’t just a chocolate. it’s an obsession., in japan, the kit kat isn’t just a chocolate. it’s an obsession..

By TEJAL RAO OCT. 24, 2018

The story of how Kit Kats, once a British chocolate export, became a booming business from Hokkaido to Tokyo — and changed expectations about what a candy bar could be.

By TEJAL RAO OCT. 23, 2018 Photographs by SPENCER LOWELL

The seven-story Don Quijote megastore in the Shibuya district of Tokyo is open 24 hours a day, but it’s hard to say when it’s rush hour, because there’s always a rush. A labyrinth of aisles leads to one soaring, psychedelic display after another presided over by cartoon mascots, including the mascot of Don Quijote itself: an enthusiastic blue penguin named Donpen who points shoppers toward toy sushi kits and face masks soaked with snail excretions and rainbow gel pens and split-toe socks. The candy section is vast, with cookies and cakes printed with Gudetama, Sanrio’s lazy egg character, and shiny packages of dehydrated, caramelized squid. It’s one of the few places where an extensive array of Japan’s many Kit Kat flavors are for sale. Though the chocolate bar is sold in more than 100 countries, including China, Thailand, India, Russia and the United States, it’s one of Japan’s best-selling chocolate brands and has achieved such a distinctive place in the market that several people in Tokyo told me they thought the Kit Kat was a Japanese product.

A Kit Kat is composed of three layers of wafer and two layers of flavored cream filling, enrobed in chocolate to look like a long, skinny ingot. It connects to identical skinny ingots, and you can snap these apart from one another intact, using very little pressure, making practically no crumbs. The Kit Kat is a sweet, cheap, delicately crunchy artifact of the 20th century’s industrial chocolate conglomerate. In the United States, where it has been distributed by Hershey since 1970, it is drugstore candy. In Japan, you might find the Kit Kat at a drugstore, but here the Kit Kat has levels. The Kit Kat has range. It’s found in department stores and luxurious Kit Kat-devoted boutiques that resemble high-end shoe stores, a single ingot to a silky peel-away sheath, stacked in slim boxes and tucked inside ultrasmooth-opening drawers, which a well-dressed, multilingual sales clerk slides open for you as you browse. The Kit Kat, in Japan, pushes at every limit of its form: It is multicolored and multiflavored and sometimes as hard to find as a golden ticket in your foil wrapper. Flavors change constantly, with many appearing as limited-edition runs. They can be esoteric and so carefully tailored for a Japanese audience as to seem untranslatable to a global mass market, but the bars have fans all over the world. Kit Kat fixers buy up boxes and carry them back to devotees in the United States and Europe. All this helps the Kit Kat maintain a singular, cultlike status.

The Kit Kat first came to Japan in 1973, but the first 100 percent, truly on-brand Japanese Kit Kat arrived at the turn of the millennium, when the marketing department of Nestlé Japan, the manufacturer of Kit Kats in the country, decided to experiment with new flavors, sweetness levels and types of packaging in an effort to increase sales. Strawberry! A pinkish, fruity Kit Kat would have been a gamble almost anywhere else in the world, but in Japan, strawberry-flavored sweets were established beyond the status of novelties. The strawberry Kit Kat was covered in milk chocolate tinted by the addition of a finely ground powder of dehydrated strawberry juice. It was first introduced in Hokkaido — coincidentally and serendipitously — at the start of strawberry season. Since then, the company has released almost 400 more flavors, some of them available only in particular regions of the country, which tends to encourage a sense of rareness and collectibility. Bars flavored like Okinawan sweet potatoes, the starchy, deep purple Japanese tubers, are available in Kyushu and Okinawa. The adzuki bean-sandwich bars are associated with the city of Nagoya, where the sweet, toasted snack originated in a tea shop at the turn of the 20th century and slowly made its way to cafe menus in the area. Shizuoka, where gnarly rhizomes with heart-shaped leaves have been cultivated for centuries on the Pacific Ocean, is known for its wasabi-flavored bars.

The most popular kind of Kit Kat in Japan is the mini — a bite-size package of two ingots — and Nestlé estimates that it sells about four million of these each day. In any given year, there are about 40 flavors available, including the core flavors — plain milk chocolate, strawberry, sake, wasabi, matcha, Tokyo Banana and a dark-chocolate variety called “sweetness for adults” — plus 20 to 30 rotating new ones. In August, Nestlé was preparing to release a shingen mochi Kit Kat, based on a traditional sweet made by the Japanese company Kikyouya, which involves three bite-size pieces of soft, squishy mochi packed with roasted soybean powder and a bottle of brown-sugar syrup, all assembled to taste. It seemed almost presumptuous for Nestlé to flavor a chocolate bar like shingen mochi, which is rooted in traditional Japanese confectionary, then stamp its brand on it and produce it en masse.

A sales clerk was restocking the Kit Kat display in Don Quijote when I asked her which were the most popular flavors. She shook her head. “They’re all popular,” she said. She gestured at the empty tunnels of matcha-, grape- and strawberry-flavored Kit Kats that she was filling as a small group of Chinese tourists carried armloads of glossy snack bags and boxes back to their shopping carts, undoing her work. An Australian father and son rushed by in a panic, their cart heaped with gifts to take back home. “Which one, Dad? Which one?” the child asked desperately, pointing to all the varieties. “It doesn’t matter,” the father shouted, as if the timer on a bomb were running out. “Just take one!”

The Kit Kat was first produced as a crisp, four-finger chocolate wafer bar in the 1930s, in Britain, by the chocolate manufacturer Rowntree’s. The company was named for Henry Isaac Rowntree, who bought a small grocery store in York that also operated a cocoa foundry. In the 1860s, the foundry was known for its finely ground rock cocoa, but the business grew quickly into candy- and chocolate-making. From the beginning, the Kit Kat was self-consciously packaged as a kind of workingman’s chocolate — as if the break of the bar could be aligned with the break the working class deserved from the monotony of their day. The Kit Kat was meant to be plain, unpretentious, cheerful. The stars of its commercials were often construction workers, cops or commuters taking five hard-earned minutes to enjoy a moment of sweetness in an otherwise bleak day.

In Japan, Kit Kats were first licensed by the Japanese sweets company Fujiya, which capitalized on the chocolate’s general association with Britain and the West. Early Japanese TV commercials for the candy drew on the chocolate bar’s British roots to promote it as a foreign product, depicting British soldiers breaking for a treat. But in 1988, Nestlé acquired Rowntree’s and took over manufacturing and sales in Japan, eventually changing strategies. Since 2010, sales in Japan have increased by about 50 percent. Japanese Kit Kats are now produced in two Nestlé-owned factories in Himeji and Kasumigaura.

There are three ways for a new Japanese Kit Kat flavor to make its way into the world. The classically trained pastry chef Yasumasa Takagi, a kind of Kit Kat maestro, was brought in by Nestlé as a collaborator in 2003, after the success of the strawberry Kit Kat. He may decide he wants to make a special bar and propose the new flavor to Nestlé — his first was passion fruit in 2005. The marketing team may also build a partnership with a brand, like Tokyo Banana, the locally famous cream-filled cakes on which the Kit Kat flavor is based, then ask a product-development team to experiment so they can bring a sample bar to the pitch meeting. Or the product-development teams themselves may feel inspired on a late night in the test kitchen after one too many cups of green tea and vending-machine sweets.

Only the fanciest bars are devised by Takagi, made with higher-grade chocolates and other ingredients, like dehydrated seasonal fruits, and sold in Kit Kat Chocolatory stores, the boutique-like shops for luxury versions of the bar. In some cases, they are decorated like plated desserts at a fine-dining restaurant, the Kit Kat logo entirely hidden by tiny, delicate, colorful crunchies, or individually wrapped like a gift — a single Kit Kat finger in a crinkly plastic wrapper, tucked inside a box. After Kohzoh Takaoka, now chief executive of Nestlé Japan, persuaded Takagi to work with the company, Takagi decided he wanted to make the bars more sophisticated, to play with the form and sweetness levels. He wanted, as he put it, to make Kit Kats for grown-ups, like the Chocolatory Sublime Bitter, a long, cigarillo-like bar of 66 percent dark chocolate, packaged in black and gold. (The marketing team uses the word “premiumization” to describe this part of Kit Kat’s strategy.) Now Takagi runs the brand’s Japanese Chocolatory shops, including the one where I met him, in a particularly posh part of the Ginza neighborhood in Tokyo.

“Japan is No. 1 in terms of sales and profits, compared with Nestlé’s other markets,” said Ryoji Maki, Nestlé Japan’s marketing manager at the time, who was dressed in a beautifully tailored suit and eating a tiny pudding cup. Nestlé did a market test after its strawberry flavor caught on in Hokkaido in 2000, to see how much production would be required for sales to go national. What it found was that the strawberry Kit Kat was especially popular among tourists, both Japanese tourists and those from abroad. Subsequent market tests suggested that Kit Kat had potential not just as a candy but as a kind of Japanese souvenir. The company looked to Kobe, Tokyo, Kyoto and other cities and wondered how to develop a chocolate for each that consumers might associate with the places themselves. Now Nestlé’s most recent flavors focus on regional Japanese products — maple-leaf-shaped cookies, plum wine, roasted tea.

There are also carefully chosen collaborations that capitalize on Japan’s culture of omiyage , which can be loosely defined as returning from travels with gifts for friends, family and colleagues. The Kikyou shingen mochi Kit Kat, which would go on sale in mid-October, would be sold right alongside the real Kikyou shingen mochi at souvenir shops and in service areas along the Chuo Expressway, a major four-lane road more than 200 miles long that passes through the mountainous regions of several prefectures, connecting Tokyo to Nagoya. With any luck, people would associate the Kit Kat with the traditional sweet and snap it up as a souvenir. But for this to be a success, for Kit Kat to expand into the souvenir market, consumers would have to believe that Kit Kat, originally a British product, was Japanese, and that although it was manufactured in a factory far away, it somehow represented the very essence of a region.

Before I could enter the Kasumigaura factory, northeast of Tokyo, I had to zip up an all-white coverall and place a white plastic skullcap under a hard white helmet, tucking in all of my hair. I had to wrap the exposed skin of my neck in a white scarf. I had to change out of my sneakers into the provided white slip-ons and take a fully clothed air shower with Takeshi Iwai, the factory’s production manager, in a sealed room the size of a linen closet. Afterward, side by side, we sticky-rolled our entire bodies for dust and lint and eyelashes and any other invisible debris that might still have been clinging to our clothes, to avoid contaminating the chocolate.

It smelled strongly of cocoa and toasted almonds on the other side of the doors. Iwai assured me that this scent changed daily, often more than once a day, according to what was being made. He also warned me not to run, because I might slip in my new shoes. Iwai studied microbiology at university and has been working for Nestlé since 2001; he has managed the Kasumigaura factory for the last three years. Wafers were the beginning of the line, the beginning of every single Kit Kat.

I stood mesmerized for a few minutes under an archway of uncut wafers, like edible golden window panes, which were being cooled by ambient air before they reached an actual cooler. I heard almost nothing Iwai said over the sharp clanging and drone of the machinery. The factory is large and open, loud and clean, its production lines totally transparent. But the wafers had been baked out of sight, most likely between engraved, molded plates. Now they looked like thin, delicate altar breads, floating above us. They formed a continuously moving line, the sheets traveling up and curving toward pumps of cream in the distance.

What makes a Kit Kat a Kit Kat? A Nestlé executive told me it was the shape of the connected pieces: those long, skinny ingots with their recognizable, ridge-like feet of chocolate surrounding each base. A few people said it was the logo itself, in big blocky letters, embossed on the top of each bar. But when I spoke with Takagi, the pastry chef, he didn’t hesitate. “The wafer,” he said. “The wafer!”

Wafers are an art form within the food industry. And although plenty of companies make decent wafers, there is something about the Nestlé wafer, Takagi said, that is quite extraordinary. Not that he knew exactly what it was. The wafer was the corporate secret, the heavily guarded soul of the Kit Kat. But like many lightweight, low-fat industrial wafers, the Kit Kat wafer is, very likely, mostly air and gelatinized wheat flour. It is crisp but not brittle. Crunchy but not dense. It is fragile but still satisfying to bite into. It is totally and alarmingly dry to the touch, like packing material. But after it has been touched with a little saliva, it doesn’t even need to be chewed, and you can swallow it with no effort. Plain, the wafer is almost but not entirely tasteless. It has a very gentle sort of toastiness, barely there, but with an almost bready flavor. A sort of toast ghost. Not that it matters. A wafer’s highest purpose is the nuance of its crunch.

When a wafer doesn’t meet standards — when it is cracked, broken, improperly embossed — it is tossed into a tall plastic bin next to the factory line. The company recycles these substandard wafers as local animal feed. “This is the countryside, so we have farms,” Iwai said with a shrug. The good wafers — smooth, intact, deeply and evenly embossed — move along the line. They are covered with cream, then sandwiched with another wafer and more cream. The arms of a huge, gentle machine with extraordinary fine-tuned motor functions do all the work of building the Kit Kat, smoothing the cream and pressing the wafer on top of it, then pass the large, sheet-cake-size sandwiches along a slow conveyor belt through a massive cooler. After they’re cut, four sheets at a time, the Kit Kats begin to look familiar, like ladyfingers.

On the molding line, the chocolate depositor fills empty Kit Kat molds with tempered chocolate, and the fingers are dropped in and covered with more chocolate. A scraper removes excess chocolate and smooths the surface. When the chocolate is cooled, the bars are popped out and whipped through a wrapping machine. On my visit, the mostly automated factory was making several types of Kit Kat, including chestnut — a seasonal flavor for the fall — made with white chocolate and a mix of chestnut purées from Europe and Japan. The production line was a barely interrupted blur of white, like dotted lines rushing by on the highway, becoming indistinguishable from one another.

I learned that Kit Kats were slightly, subtly different all over the world. In Britain, Nestlé uses milk crumb, a sweetened, dehydrated milk product, to make the bars. In the United States, Hershey uses nonfat milk and milk fat, while in Japan, the factories work with whole-milk powder. In Japan, Nestlé buys most of its cacao beans from West Africa. In the United States, a mix of beans from West Africa and Latin America is favored.

Almost everything changes, but the wafers? The wafers never change. The wafers have a fixed standard that needs to be maintained, and deviations are not acceptable. Standing beneath the fresh, moving wafers, I asked Iwai if I could hold one, as if it were a newborn, and I did not expect him to let me. But he reached into the line and pulled one out, passing it toward me with two hands. The breeze created by his movements seemed to curve the wafer inward with pressure, but it didn’t break. What I wanted to know was if this wafer, the one in my hands, would pass Nestlé’s standards, but Iwai wouldn’t share many details about that. All I knew was that the wafer was huge, golden, marked with square cups and totally weightless. That if it hadn’t been still warm from the oven, I wouldn’t have known it was there. That if this was the soul of a Kit Kat, then holding the soul of a Kit Kat was like holding nothing at all.

Kikyouya, originally a small, family-run sweet shop that specialized in kintsuba , a Japanese sweet filled with red-bean paste, has been making shingen mochi since the late 1960s. A single package of Kikyou shingen mochi is complex, but it’s also small — small enough to fit in your palm — and contained in a flexible plastic box that’s wrapped in a soft sheet of pretty, floral-printed plastic and sealed with a topknot. It’s messy to eat, or at least it can be, but the clever packaging considers this: The wrapping itself doubles as a tiny tablecloth to prevent stains and spills. Before I knew this, I ate shingen mochi in my hotel room, as Tokyo was being soaked by the outermost edges of a passing typhoon. With my first bite, I sent a little cloud of roasted soybean powder into the air and coughed with surprise. The rice cakes were soft, chewy, delicious. And where the brown-sugar syrup trapped the powder, it turned into a gorgeous caramel sludge. I couldn’t quite imagine how a sweet like this, one defined by such varied textures, and by such a distinct form, could ever be transformed into a chocolate bar.

Tomoko Ohashi was the lead developer on the Kikyou shingen mochi Kit Kat. Ohashi, a soft-spoken woman from Mito in Ibaraki Prefecture, ate shingen mochi when someone brought it for her as a souvenir from Yamanashi, the prefecture where it’s still made today, and she knew how beloved it was. What she didn’t know was how the mochi texture could translate into a chocolate bar. “I was also very worried about replicating the flavor,” she said, standing in the test kitchen of the factory in Kasumigaura, wearing the factory’s all-white uniform with its white hoodie pulled tightly across her hairline.

The kitchen didn’t look like a lab. It was more like a real pastry kitchen, full of dehydrated fruit powders and matcha organized in tubs, chocolate molds and serrated knives and a marble counter for tempering chocolate. The challenge with shingen mochi, Ohashi said, was finding the balance between the soybean powder and the syrup. Because the sweet is so adaptable, everyone who eats it calibrates it obsessively, adjusting the ingredients so it tastes the way they like.

Ohashi started work on the new flavor last September, and she finished it in May. In tests, she would make about 50 pieces of four to five different versions by hand, tempering chocolate on the marble table, and then taste them side by side, looking for the right balance of soybean powder to sugar syrup. The rice was the shingen mochi itself, but it couldn’t play such a big part in the chocolate bar. “There’s no device or machine for putting a rice cake in a Kit Kat,” Ohashi said sadly. She knew, from the start, that it wouldn’t be possible to replicate the texture of fresh mochi — tender, almost slippery in the mouth — in a chocolate bar. She did, to be true to the mochi, end up putting sticky rice in the Kit Kat’s cream filling. Did the sticky rice in the Kit Kat help to mimic the mochi texture? “No,” Ohashi said, bursting into laughter because she had made an uncomfortable kind of peace with what she could and could not do within the boundaries of her form. “Actually not at all.”

After all the testing, Ohashi concentrated all the flavorings in the cream filling: the sticky rice as well as soybean powder and brown-sugar syrup. The bars went on sale on Oct. 15, with packages of nine selling for 780 yen, or about $7. Standing in the test kitchen, I unwrapped the new flavored Kit Kat and broke into it with a crack. The bar was a mini, two tiny connected ingots. They were ivory, eggshell, the off-white color of a rich lady’s kitchen, and the fine cream filling inside appeared a light brown.

Just a few days earlier, I had made a pilgrimage to Kikyouya’s factory in Yamanashi, where workers wrapped thousands of pieces of fresh shingen mochi by hand each day, to see exactly what Nestlé was trying to capture. On my way, I stopped for lunch at a small noodle restaurant and sat by the window, eating a pile of salted plums. I could see busloads of tourists filing out in the parking lot, their floppy hats secured with strings, their shirts wet with sweat. They were fruit hunters. Yamanashi is green, dense with red pine and white oak forest and beautifully kept orchards that cut deep into its slopes. Fruit hunters pay to eat as much ripe, seasonal fruit as they like in a short span of time. Say, 30 minutes of thin-skinned peaches, or fat pink grapes, or strawberries, warmed from the sun, dipped into pools of sweetened condensed milk.

Unlike apple-picking in the fall in the United States, the fruit doesn’t really function as a souvenir, carried home in baskets to commemorate an idyllic, well-documented visit to the countryside. Fruit hunters travel to eat the fruit on site, right off the trees, in their allotted time. When the concept was explained to me, I thought the time limit seemed embarrassing. But seeing the fruit hunters of Yamanashi, I realized that it wasn’t embarrassing at all. It was practical, it was beautiful and it acknowledged that souvenirs were, like memories, at best only approximations of the moments they represented. That it was, in fact, completely impossible to remove a taste from its origin without changing it in the process.

“How is it?” Ohashi wanted to know. The Kikyou shingen mochi Kit Kat was smooth to the touch, shiny. It had a brilliant, crumbless snap, which gave way to a pure white chocolate and caramel flavor and a lightly savory note. It was sweet, it was good. It was in balance. And it recalled fresh Kikyou shingen mochi, vaguely, like a memory gone soft around the edges.

Tejal Rao is an Eat columnist for the magazine and the California restaurant critic for The Times. She has won two James Beard Foundation awards for restaurant criticism.

These Are the World’s Best Candies. Want to Fight About It?

Candy is controversial. Scouring the globe in search of the sweet stuff reveals just how different our palates are — and how much we have in common.

By MARY H. K. CHOI OCT. 23, 2018 Photo Illustration by MASSIMO GAMMACURTA

Whenever I land in a new country, before I’ve even left the arrivals hall, my mind turns to shopping. Not the boutiques or cosmetics counters, no duty-free sunglasses and designer perfumes for me. No, the pressing calculus as I make my way to baggage claim is driven by drugstores, kiosks, supermarkets and vending machines. In a new port of call, I like to know what sort of candy I’m dealing with.

As with breakfast foods, I believe candy is often tastier the less expensive it is. I like my confections approachable. Low-rent. Basic. Shot through with a skosh of hoi polloi-ishness. Wrappers with cartoon mascots are promising. So is branding that testifies to soccer hooliganism as a respectable pastime. I’d sooner crush a Quality Street (except the strawberry crème ones; barf) or a crumbly puck of Mexican De La Rosa than a morsel of marzipan molded by human hands to resemble a carrot on a dinky doily. If a wan man in a toque has ever loomed over the thing with tweezers, no matter how storied its provenance, I would enjoy its bootleg cousin more.

Park me in front of any country’s pick ’n’ mix, penny-candy bins, Aji Ichiban, the part of the five-and-dime where jelly hamburgers live, and I will go to town. And I’ve learned some tricks in my travels. In any Scandinavian country, you’ve got to watch out for salted licorice; there are at least a dozen different kinds, and all of them taste to me like old spoons. But don’t let that dissuade you from sampling the fruity stuff. Shake your selection in the bag as if you’re crumb-coating chicken, so that you get an even citric-acid distribution.

Russian bulk-candy bins are feasts for the eyes, with trillions of variations on the individually wrapped chocolate bonbon. The art direction on each tiny canvas is a marvel, featuring oil-painted landscapes, shiny-eyed squirrels, polar bears and swans — even the occasional camel. The thumb-size rectangular one, featuring a startled-looking infant in a babushka, is my favorite. (It’s called Alenka.) British Smarties beat American Smarties, because candy-coated chocolate buttons are superior to chalky pressed pills; of the former, the orange taste delicious. Any flavor of Ritter Sport is crucial whenever you can find one (milk-chocolate cornflake in particular). The green Haribo gummy frog is peach not apple (common misconception); clear gummy bears are the best bears. But the best Haribo by my standards is the sour cola Balla Stixx (sometimes dubbed Zig Zourr) with a mallowy interior that I’ve only reliably found in Italian gas stations. Still, Asia’s flavorings are unrivaled. Hi-Chews lay waste to any other fruit taffy experience. Milkita melon is a singular delight — creamy honeydew drops — while Kasugai gummies in mango, muscat grape, lychee and yuzu (in that order) are a necessary part of any convenience-store run in Tokyo.

When it comes to the United States, my opinions are more calcified. Red Vines over Twizzlers. Easy. The best M&M: peanut butter. Hands down. Milk chocolate over dark; white is not right, and the only correct way to eat a Kit Kat is to nibble off the enrobed edges and pry the wafer layers apart. Fight me. Candy is controversial. As with a beloved sports team, your affinities and fealties have been ingrained since your prelinguistic days. Such innate belief systems defy reasoning. Your mom loved herself a Goetze’s Cow Tales or maybe a milky White Rabbit, so you do, too. How else could you explain how Circus Peanuts are still a going concern? Or those gnarly monstrous mint-leaf gel slices, the dial-up internet of candy?

No one’s madeleine will be exactly the same. But no matter your brand, it will always deliver similar things: the rose-tinted pleasure of nostalgia, a brief respite from adulthood and, well, whatever else it is that sugar does for morale. Despite all our differences, candy speaks to a fundamentally shared humanity; we like a lot of the same stuff. Most of us have some version of Fun Dip. Or Pop Rocks. Fruit leather. Caramel. A Tunnock’s Tea Cake is a Mallomar is a Whippet is a Krembo — a cookie with marshmallow dipped in chocolate — except of course it’s never that simple. One’s kosher, one’s Canadian, one appeared in “When Harry Met Sally” and one’s in a kilt.

If you think my selections are particular to Western Europe, America and East Asia, you’re right. It’s the shortcoming of the international candy marketplace that even Jeff Bezos can’t deliver you the deep cuts. You’ll have to travel for the choicest morsels. And while candy may not be the chief reason I visit a country, it’s a solid tourist attraction. Bodegas, newsstands, dagashiyas and tuck shops rarely require selfie sticks. That in and of itself should inspire fondness and warmth.

As a Korean kid who grew up in a former British colony, I might not ever be able to go home. But I’ll kill a stack of Haw Flakes and chase them with Wine Gums, and the rush will remain the same.

Mary H.K. Choi is a writer whose work for Wired, GQ, New York and The Atlantic focuses on culture. She is the best-selling author of “Emergency Contact,” a young-adult novel about texting, and host of the podcast “Hey, Cool Job!”

Flavor Is a Language, and Like Wine, Candy Has Its Own

I learned how to take candy tasting as seriously as wine tasting. What I discovered surprised me.

By SAMIN NOSRAT OCT. 23, 2018 Illustration by ORI TOOR

As she passed out paper bowls, Beth Kimmerle smiled broadly at the dozen or so employees of Long Grove Confectionery Company seated around the conference table. Each bowl contained a slightly misshapen caramel of unknown origin. “I can train anybody to taste,” she declared. “It’s just about focus.” Kimmerle peeled off her rubber gloves and gestured at the candy in the bowl. “Let’s start with this product. What do you notice about its appearance?”

“It’s glossy,” someone called out from the back of the room.

“O.K.,” Kimmerle said in a tone that made clear it wasn’t exactly O.K. She turned to a graphic designer. “You’ve got the Pantone matching system,” she said. “Is this a special kind of color?”

The designer’s eyes widened. “Caramel color?” she said, unsure.

It was, in fact, caramel-colored, but Kimmerle, a 48-year-old native Chicagoan who has written four books on candy and helps companies develop new recipes, was after something more specific. Someone else suggested “bronze,” which seemed like a great adjective to me, but this didn’t satisfy Kimmerle either. She pressed on: “We want to come up with a standard language for describing everything about this candy.” It felt as if the group were in the midst of a middle-school pop quiz and no one was prepared.

Kimmerle pulled her long hair away from her face to prevent the distraction of any scented products, lifted the bowl to her nose and demonstrated taking several “bunny sniffs” to avoid overwhelming the nasal cavity. “Your turn,” she told the group. “What do you smell?” Closing my eyes and sniffing, I picked up the distinct aromas of caramelized sugar and butterscotch, but kept quiet, curious to hear what the others were noticing.

“Sweet?” someone said timidly.

“Sweet is a taste, not an aroma,” Kimmerle replied briskly. “Find other words for what you’re smelling. And if you can’t place an aroma, let your memory guide you there.”

Other suggestions included buttery, burnt, caramel — language that Kimmerle approved. Now she was ready to move on to flavor. She told everyone to write down any words that came to mind, whether they were one of the five basic tastes or any of the trillions of aromas the nose can detect. “Remember,” she added, “taste is what our taste buds sense. Everything else is a texture or an aroma, a volatile, airborne scent.” The semantics of taste are a little finicky. The folks at Long Grove were tasting the candy, but now their task was to describe its flavor, which exists at the intersection of taste, aroma and even feeling (like the burning heat of a chile or the icy chill of menthol). Confusion radiated from their faces.

The tasters began taking tiny bites and closing their eyes, chewing intently and rolling the caramel around on their tongues. “Take your time with it. And if you feel like you’re getting satiated, or what we call burnout, feel free to spit,” Kimmerle offered gently, pointing at the plastic cups she’d set out for everyone. “It’s weird and a little creepy at first, but it can be helpful to reset. Just swish with water and try again.”

Someone let out an audible sound of delight. “Did someone say ‘ Mmmmm ’?” Kimmerle asked disapprovingly. “Remember, this isn’t about likes and dislikes. It’s about what is.” After a few more long, quiet minutes, she started calling on each person to list his or her adjectives, writing down the responses on a whiteboard: sweet, salty, creamy, buttery, vanilla, maple, burnt. “Powdered milk,” someone said.

“So is it like that lactic sour that somebody once described to me as ‘baby vomit’?” Kimmerle asked with a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. “Because that is actually incredibly appealing in certain foods.”

Everyone in the room laughed uncomfortably. Yet it did make a certain amount of sense. Sweetness often needs to be balanced with a little tang, and so “baby vomit” wouldn’t be an entirely unattractive quality in a caramel.

Kimmerle was coaching the group through its first attempt at Sensory Evaluation (or “sensory,” as it’s called in the industry), a form of analysis used to measure the human response to any particular food or drink. “Sensory is all about using your five senses to make an assessment about a food product,” Kimmerle explained to me. “While it’s considered a scientific discipline, it’s really about using our human perception to describe and evaluate something.”

I’d traveled to suburban Chicago to observe Kimmerle’s workshop because I wanted to know if learning to taste candy like a professional — which is to say, as attentively and objectively as possible — could teach me how to better describe what I cook and eat. Putting language to flavor isn’t easy, because we’re rarely taught that it matters. As children, we learn the names of all sorts of shapes, colors and sounds. But when it comes to the way things smell or taste, the only language we ever hear is qualitative — good and bad, yummy and yucky, delicious and disgusting. And in adulthood, we learn that taking the time to describe the things we eat and drink is the pretentious domain of foodies and wine snobs going on and on about flavor profiles and horse-sweat bouquets.

Once you start trying, you notice how difficult it is to assign language to taste and smell. The sense of taste is simultaneously public, because we come together to eat; and private, because we must put food inside our bodies in order to taste it. This paradox creates tension. Your experience of flavor is unique and unspoken; the mere act of describing it entails exposing something incredibly intimate. What if you share a bar of chocolate with a loved one and describe how it tastes, only to discover your companion disagrees? It’s a remarkably vulnerable feeling, knowing that your most private sensual experience could differ so considerably from those to whom you’re closest. Perhaps it’s why we shy away from talking about flavor at all.

Even though I’d come to Kimmerle to learn, I found myself battling snobbery of my own. I struggled to assign her much credibility. I learned to taste from chefs who trained in the finest restaurants in France and Italy. Kimmerle received her Sensory Expert certification after taking an online course from the Institute of Food Technologists. Could she really know more about how to taste than I did? In fact, there are entire industries devoted to taste, from the forecasters who predict what we’ll want to be eating three or four years from now to the food scientists and innovators who develop new flavors and products to the sensory scientists and experts like Kimmerle who are trained to conduct research to figure out what we, the candy-eating public, really want to eat.

Sensory evaluation is an evolution of the “flavor profile,” a standardized method developed by 20th-century food scientists to help manufacturers achieve consistency as they ramped up production in the postwar years. Myrna Fossum, a 77-year-old former home economist, is often credited as the mother of a simplified version that she marketed as “the Best Approach.” After years in the test kitchen at Nabisco and Mars, Fossum realized there was a basic suite of easy-to-use tools that she could train others to use. A result was the relatively straightforward method of evaluation I’d observed: less reliance on jargon, more on the senses.

“Flavor itself is a language,” Fossum told me over the phone from her home in Plymouth, Mass. “And like any language, it takes years to learn.” Throughout her time at Mars (the manufacturer of M&Ms, Twix and Skittles), Fossum traveled to production plants around the world giving sensory trainings like the one I sat in on. “Whether they were in Waco, Texas, or Hackettstown, New Jersey, they were speaking a common language,” Fossum recalled. “Mr. Mars could pick up the phone and call any plant and ask, ‘How is the chocolate?’ and get an answer in plain English. He’d tell me, ‘You know, dear, this is my mantra: The most important thing is taste.’ Even at age 84 he sat in every single training with a spoon, ready to taste. And if you think about it, it worked, because when you eat an M&M, it tastes the same wherever you go.”

It makes sense that, within an industrial setting, the primary value of sensory evaluation is consistency. But why should nonprofessional tasters care about slowing down to describe the experience of eating candy? “At the end of the first day of training, I say to people: ‘Go home tonight and taste your dinner. Come back and tell me about it tomorrow. Come tell me about your first cup of coffee,’ ” Fossum answered. “They come back and say, ‘I never knew it tasted like that.’ Until they do sensory, they don’t pay attention to what things really taste like. They just drink and eat. So they learn, and they learn to appreciate.”

While companies use sensory evaluation to engineer better candies and meet bottom lines, anyone can learn from careful, thoughtful tasting; putting language to the experience can lead you closer to knowing what you like and don’t like. It’s why, as snobby as it can seem, wine tasting is an incredibly useful tool: The more wine you taste attentively, the more words you learn to associate with the kinds of wine you like, so the more easily you can choose bottles that will please you regardless of price. In this age of $12 chocolate bars and artisanal, well, everything, there’s great value in knowing your own palate and letting that, rather than labels or prices or marketing, guide you in the store or through a menu or wine list. The point of candy is joy — pure, unadulterated joy. And that joy shouldn’t be compromised just because you feel as if the “right” chocolate is the one that comes wrapped in hand-painted paper that looks as if it was trimmed by apprentices in Matisse’s workshop.

In fact, matters of taste are highly personal, and often colored by past experience. Both genetics and childhood exposure shape our earliest culinary preferences. And for adults, nostalgia — a literal longing for home — can also affect the flavors toward which we orient ourselves. This is why there’s no one candy bar or bottle of wine that is universally beloved. And yet, because we’re human, we can’t help devoting ourselves to the pursuit. Sensory offers a reprieve from such futility; instead of encouraging the quest for a singular “best,” it allows you to define, in plain terms, what sits before you, and determine how it makes you feel.

I’m a cook and a writer. Practically all I do professionally, in either capacity, is describe the experience of preparing and eating food. Yet I’d left Kimmerle’s workshop befuddled. I tend to rely on metaphor — fireworks in my mouth! — and flowery, emotional language when describing how things taste. But sort of like my therapist does, Kimmerle, who was mentored by Fossum, had me set aside what I thought and narrow in on what I felt. The sensory practice became almost meditative, offering me an entirely new way to experience taste. I wanted to keep practicing.

The next day, Kimmerle suggested we try more varied sweets. We headed out on a tour of international markets near her home north of Chicago. At an Indian sweet shop, the shopkeeper told us we had to try aflatoon , a soft brown bar wrapped in greasy wax paper, because it’s “the most popular sweet in Mumbai.” At the Swedish-American museum, we were persuaded to buy Bilar, a popular car-shaped fruity marshmallow gummy. But what I really wanted to taste with Kimmerle was the Mexican candy Pelon Pelo Rico. All throughout the ’90s, I curiously watched my Latino classmates in California suck the pastelike candy from a plastic tube. No one ever offered me any, and I’d never worked up the courage to ask for a taste. Twenty-five years later, I still had no idea what it might possibly taste like.

By the time we sat down at Kimmerle’s dining table, with clean knives and plates, paper and pen, water and spit cups, we had collected dozens of candies — everything from sesame brittle to Turkish delight to my Pelon Pelo Rico. We sorted through everything and decided on a tasting order. Just as in a wine or cheese tasting, we wanted to save the strongest-flavored candies until the end to keep our palates from being overwhelmed. We agreed that the aflatoon , probably on the milder side, was a good place to begin.

First, we noted the appearance: a speckled slice the color of brown sugar. Next, we sniffed. “Now, remember, we can’t smell ‘sweet,’ ” Kimmerle said, “but do you smell any fruit notes? Like brown fruit? Or baked notes?” All I could sense was browned butter or ghee, some caramelized notes and cardamom.

“Think raisins, or dates, or plums,” she hinted after another sniff.

I didn’t, for the life of me, smell any fruit, and I didn’t know why she kept bringing it up. Was she posturing? I started to feel the way I do at wine tastings, where I often wonder if everyone else is just making up descriptors to sound as if they know what they’re talking about. Even once we had tasted the aflatoon , I felt at a loss for words.

“Well,” she gently began, “the first thing that you sense when you put it in your mouth is that it’s overwhelmingly sweet. Then, there’s a dough. It could be wheat flour, or almonds. And I still really get the brown fruit. It could be date, date syrup. I’m not sure.”

Kimmerle’s 11-year-old son, Cliff, arrived home from summer camp, and Kimmerle invited him to join. We tasted the aflatoon again. “It tastes sweet,” he said. “Definitely sweet. And there’s a spice.” Apparently Kimmerle could even train children to taste. I took another bite, this time noticing a gritty texture and the slightest tang as the aflatoon melted away. “It does kind of taste like raisins,” Cliff added. I started to feel impatient. We’d already spent at least 15 minutes on just this one candy! I feared at this rate I’d be tasting candy for the next eight hours. Eventually we settled on a taste description in the order of “sweet,” “caramelized,” “cardamom,” “dough” and “light tang,” which was as close as I could come to admitting to tasting any raisins.

We moved on to Limon 7, a packet of white powdered candy we found at the Mexican grocery that didn’t look or smell like much. “Well, it’s not really a powder,” Kimmerle corrected. “It’s more granulated.” As Cliff ran off, she and I closed our eyes and tasted it, looking up in unison with surprise. It tasted like pure citric acid and salt. “Citric-y. Not citrusy, but citric-y,” I ventured.

“It’s not sweet at all!” she exclaimed. I looked at the ingredients, surprised to find sugar and a host of artificial colors listed. Neither of us could have identified the presence of either until I rolled another pinch of the powder around on my tongue, searching for a grain of sugar. “I found a little sugar!” I said excitedly. Even though I wouldn’t have thought to call Limon 7 candy, I found it inexplicably enjoyable. Each taste was so unbelievably salty that it made me wince with something between discomfort and pain. Yet my mouth kept watering. I couldn’t stop eating it. Or smiling.

Eventually it was time for Pelon Pelo Rico. Pushing up on the base of the tube made the paste move through the holes at the top like noodles. The paste was glossy and brownish-red. We agreed that it smelled like some sort of fruit leather and tasted sweet, salty, with tamarind and chile and a little grit to the texture.

“Of all the things we’ve tasted,” Kimmerle said, “let’s say the tamarind has umami, which it might, this is the closest to a five-star confection. Meaning, I wouldn’t be surprised if this hit on all the basic tastes.” I tasted it again. She was right — every single taste bud in my mouth was firing simultaneously. The sensation was utterly delightful. “There’s a reason those kids were sucking on this,” she said with a grin.

As we made our way through the massive pile of candy, I started to feel more confident about my ability to notice nuances. Every once in a while, I’d even catch something before Kimmerle did. We started to move through each evaluation more quickly, easily arriving at consensus. At one point I even wondered, Is this what it feels like to be good at meditation?

Days later, I found myself thinking of that aflatoon again. I looked up recipes for it. Nearly every one called for semolina flour and raisins.

Back home in California, I found myself craving tamarind candy, so I went to my own Mexican grocery in search of several varieties, including my new favorite, Pulparindo. On the front of its package was what looked to be a cartoon-character version of the candy: a bar of tamarind paste with a jolly face and a tongue sticking out of its seemingly salivating mouth. “Mouthwatering” is often thought to be synonymous with “delicious,” but the term refers to a physiological response to eating acidic foods. Acid corrodes the enamel on our teeth, so we only need to think about eating something acidic and our mouths will begin to produce saliva to neutralize the acid. Clearly, the Pulparindo guy knows that sour things make our mouths water.

En route home with my haul, I bumped into a couple of friends. I excitedly doled out Pulparindo, certain they would love the salty, spicy, sour, sweet treat as much as I did. They were both suspicious. One carefully opened the wrapper, sniffed the bar and took a minuscule bite before recoiling. He might have even grimaced. The other took a bigger bite and then told me, diplomatically, “I like it, but I wouldn’t call it candy.” There was apparently a vast gulf between our experiences of the same sweet.

It turns out I love sugar best when it’s thrown into stark relief by acidity, which perhaps makes sense. I wasn’t allowed much candy as a kid, but I did eat a lot of lavashak , the relentlessly sour fruit leather my grandmother made from plums in Iran each summer and smuggled to us in California. Pulparindo bears a striking resemblance to it. So does my absolute favorite candy, which is any sort of Haribo sour gummy — it’s what I invariably sneak into every movie theater and ballgame. I love biting through the crunchy coating of sugar and citric acid on the way to the gummy center. I love the almost punishing wave of sourness that lingers for a second too long on my tongue. I love the silly shapes, colors and names, like Sour S’ghetti and Fizzy Cola. I love that, unlike every other part of my food-related work, there’s nothing local, seasonal or organic about these candies. It doesn’t have to mean anything. There’s nothing but fun.

And yet I remember being a young cook in a fancy restaurant, where admitting that my sweet of choice was chock-full of corn syrup and artificial colors and flavors felt potentially disastrous. The chefs I worked for instructed me to slow down and think about everything I ate, even when it was just a deli sandwich or a slice of pizza or a scoop of ice cream. (A version of sensory, though no one would have called it that.) Dutiful young student that I was, I took the time to thoughtfully taste even my secret gummy candy, and for the first time I noticed that the sourness was only on the surface. I realized it was the same granulated white powder I used to can tomatoes: citric acid. Almost immediately, I thought of the candied orange peel I’d learned to make and how the last step was to toss the cooked peels in sugar. What if, I wondered, I added citric acid to the sugar in my next batch? I could make my own natural sour gummy candy! And I did.

Recently, I bought a bag of candy — Haribo sour gummy bears, of course — and brought them to my desk to conduct a quick, informal sensory evaluation. I pulled out one bear of each color: red, clear, yellow, orange and green. They didn’t smell like much, so I skipped straight to taste. Clear, my childhood favorite, was pineapple, tangy and tropical. Yellow was lemon; orange orange. Red was some sort of generic artificial berry. But my first taste of green, my least favorite, which I’d always called lime and often thrown away, caught me off guard. I fished a second green bear out of the bag. Then a third. I put them in my mouth and let the sour coating dissolve away. Then I chewed. As the unmistakable aroma of artificial strawberry flavor flooded my mouth, I couldn’t help bursting into laughter. I’ve been eating gummy bears since elementary school. But I’d never really taken the time to taste them until now.

Samin Nosrat is an Eat columnist for the magazine, a chef, a teacher and the author of the cookbook “Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat,” which has been developed into a new Netflix show.

33 Unique Treats From All Around the World

Nations have flags and anthems — but they also have their defining treats. Here are some candies that capture the spirit of the countries they come from.

By ELISE CRAIG OCT. 23, 2018 Photographs by CLAIRE BENOIST

We need to hide this paragraph.

Worldwide, nearly 70 percent of cocoa beans come from Africa, and Ghana is the second-largest producer in the world, with a G.D.P. that’s partly dependent on cocoa export. Even so, Ghana has few producers of actual confections. (The entire African continent consumes only about 4 percent of the world’s cocoa beans.) Cocoa Processing Company Limited in Tema is one of them. Every year, the company says it processes 65,000 metric tons of cocoa beans, but it also has a line of chocolates and candy bars, including its lemon-flavored Akuafo Bar. Akuafo means farmers, and it’s meant to be ‘‘a dedication to farmers whose hard work and sweat sustain the Ghanaian economy.’’

Of all the candies in the world, Chupa Chups might have the most famous designer. In 1969, Enric Bernat, the Spanish businessman behind the lollipop brand, asked his friend Salvador Dalí to create the well-known logo. Though it has had some tweaks since then, that daisy-shaped logo — and the fact that it’s placed at the top of the pop — remains, as does the name, which translates to something like ‘‘sucky suck.’’ Since they were first released in the 1950s, the candies have become available in 177 countries and even made it to outer space in 1994, when Russian astronauts brought them to the Mir space station. Today, the best-selling flavors are strawberry and cola, which happen to be two of the original five, along with mint, lemon and orange.

In 1922, a married candy maker named Luisa Spagnoli decided she needed to do something with the leftover nuts at her chocolate factory. She put a whole hazelnut atop some milk chocolate whipped with chopped nuts and covered it in dark chocolate. The result looked like a fist, so she gave it the name cazzotto, or punch. But her lover, the son of her business partner who was 10 years her junior, decided that a box of punches didn’t really make a romantic gift. The two renamed it bacio, or kiss, in 1924. Since the 1930s, each piece has come wrapped in words from artists, writers and philosophers, supposedly a nod to the notes the two lovers would secretly pass each other.

It might seem counterintuitive to make candy from a fruit that the writer Richard Sterling said smelled like ‘‘pig-[expletive], turpentine and onions, garnished with a gym sock.’’ The taste of the massive, spiky fruit is also bizarre — a custardy, sweet flavor with a savory vibe — often described as whipped cream with a hint of garlic or, as the naturalist Alfred Russel Wallace wrote, ‘‘occasional wafts of flavor that call to mind cream-cheese, onion-sauce, sherry-wine and other incongruous dishes.’’ Nonetheless, Durian candy is a coveted souvenir from Malaysia and Southeast Asia. Though it has its fans, durian candy has also been the subject of videos like ‘‘Trying the Worst Candy Ever!’’ and ‘‘Durian Candy Reaction.’’

These chocolate-covered caramels get their name from the celebrity trivia on their wrappers — quite literally, fan tales. They were first created in the 1930s to cash in on movie-star mania not long after the ‘‘talkies’’ came to Australia. Today, the candy is owned by Nestlé, and its team of trivia writers digs up factoids on celebrities from Australia and around the world. Here’s a snippet from a wrapper: ‘‘Born in New South Wales in 1939, he held a job as a painter working on the Sydney Harbour Bridge before rising to fame in the early 1970s after he did a comical interview on ‘A Current Affair.’ He later became a worldwide success with his performance in ‘Crocodile Dundee’ (1986), which he co-wrote.’’ Answer: Paul Hogan.

Called Turkish delight in the Western world, this gummy-jelly candy covered in confectioners’ sugar has a local name that derives from a phrase meaning ‘‘comfort of the throat.’’ Some say it was originally created for a sultan’s harem, but the modern version of the treat is commonly attributed to Bekir Effendi, a confectioner who opened his shop, Haci Bekir, near the spice bazaar in Istanbul in the late 1700s. Generations later, Effendi’s relatives are still running the company. Lokum picked up the nickname Turkish delight when it reached Britain in the middle of the 19th century and, 100 years later, made a cameo in the C. S. Lewis classic ‘‘The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.’’ While it was traditionally made with just sugar and molasses or honey, Haci Bekir’s versions can feature ingredients like pistachio and pomegranate.

This raw-mango-flavored candy has a surprise in the middle: powdered spices that the maker calls the ‘‘masala bomb.’’ (In India, raw mangoes are often eaten with tangy spices.) Though the candies have been a big seller since they were introduced in 2015, even reportedly tying a sales record Coke set when it introduced Coke Zero to the Indian market, the treat might have a harder time in the United States. While the hard-candy exterior has a sweet flavor, the bomb has a sulfur taste that may be a bit too close to rotten eggs for the American palate.

White Rabbit candy is famous in China — Premier Zhou Enlai gave Richard Nixon a bag during his historic visit in 1972 — but the wrapper hasn’t always featured the well-known rabbit. The soft, vanilla-and-milk-flavored candy was reportedly first introduced in 1943 with a Mickey Mouse figure on the packaging, but by the late ’50s, candy companies were being nationalized, and Western imagery was a political no-go. In its 75-year history, the candy has become popular around the world. In 2008, when an incident involving melamine-tainted milk shook China, production shut down for several months to ensure the candy was safe to eat, though in Singapore, consumers were told they could eat 47 pieces daily before experiencing ill effects. Ten years later, the company makes the candies with only imported milk powder from New Zealand.

Born in a San Francisco licorice factory in the 1950s, the twists have been the favorite of moviegoers and kids who like to bite off the ends and make a straw for more than half a century. Thanks to their ubiquitous presence, and the East Coast/West Coast feud that has developed between their fans and Twizzlers enthusiasts, they’ve become a cultural hot button, showing up in TV shows like ‘‘Gilmore Girls,’’ ‘‘The Big Bang Theory,’’ ‘‘True Blood,’’ ‘‘Last Week Tonight With John Oliver’’ and ‘‘Weeds.’’ In an episode of ‘‘Parks and Recreation,’’ when the main character, Leslie Knope, is trying to smooth over relations with her fiancé’s dad, she offers him a big bowl of Red Vines. Response? ‘‘We’re a Twizzlers family.’’

The brigadeiro, a fudge truffle, is a classic in Brazil and frequently served at parties. The story goes that the treat gets its name from Brig. Gen. Eduardo Gomes, a candidate in the 1945 presidential election. The general didn’t win the presidency, but his legacy lives on in the chocolaty confection. To create your own, make fudge balls by combining sweetened cocoa powder, condensed milk and butter, then top with sugar or sprinkles. Or take inspiration from the hipster versions you can find from New York to Brazil that include pistachios, coconut or matcha.

A beloved candy bar somewhat like a Kit Kat, the Coffee Crisp is manufactured at a Nestlé factory in Toronto and isn’t distributed anywhere outside the country, much to the chagrin of its rabid American fans. Back in 2000, a Milwaukee man named John Flaig created a petition asking the company to bring the candy bar to the United States. Six years later, Nestlé relented and started selling it south of the border, but with a different wrapper. (They also pulled the ‘‘nice, light snack’’ tagline.) But sadly, it didn’t last: These days Americans who want one have to cross the border.

Savoy, the original candy company behind Cri Cri, was founded by four immigrants in a Caracas garage in 1941. One of them, John Miller, had brought a chocolate-making machine with him from Scotland, and they used it to create the Savoy chocolate bar. Almost 30 years later, the company created a puffed-rice version. In 1980, that candy bar got its own name, Cri Cri, thanks to a formula the founders picked up by talking to friends, neighbors and kids: The name needed to be short and easy to pronounce. Today Savoy is one of the leading candy companies in Venezuela, and its products are often given in December during Amigo Secreto, which is essentially the Venezuelan version of Secret Santa.

Super Hiper Ácido (S.H.A.) is exactly as its name implies: sour. As in, maybe the most sour thing you’ve ever put in your mouth. Confiteca, the Ecuadorean company behind it, designed it for the extreme palates of Gen Z candy lovers. To make sure the sour flavor was enough of a challenge, Confiteca developed its own sour scale and declared that every Super Hiper Ácido product the company put on the market has to hit at least 90 out of 100. The S.H.A. brand of products now makes up about 42 percent of Confiteca’s exports and is popular in Saudi Arabia, Bolivia, United Arab Emirates, Panama and Israel.

What Zuckerlwerkstatt calls rock candy is about as far from the American version as it gets. The round, smooth confections look more like millefiori glass designs from Venice than something you should eat: They include beautiful, tiny sugar depictions of everything from fruit to slogans to company logos. An Austrian couple, Maria Scholz and Chris Mayer, were on vacation in Sweden when they stumbled on a candy factory and fell in love with candy making. Back home, they sought out artisans who knew the old Austrian way of making hard candy by hand. In 2013, the couple opened a manufacturing facility in Vienna, producing beautiful candies with as many as 80 layers using only three tools: scissors, spatulas and their bare hands.

A Bon o Bon is a milk-chocolate shell over a crisp wafer filled with a flavored cream. Every day, factories in Argentina, Mexico and Brazil produce 3,000 of the sweet treats every minute, and 70 percent of production is exported throughout the world. In 1989, the brand helped establish Sweetness Week in Argentina, a clever marketing campaign that encourages candy lovers to exchange confections for kisses. It worked: Candy sales in Argentina rise about 20 percent for a week every July. The candy’s tagline? ‘‘Where there is emotion, there is a Bon o Bon.’’

Pastillas are popular milk-based candies, originally from San Miguel in the Philippines. The traditional recipe combines the milk of the carabao, the water buffalo that serves as the country’s national animal, with powdered milk and sugar, and calls for the resulting soft candy to be rolled into small logs and covered in paper wrappers. In the Bulacan region, the wrappers, called pabalat, have become a bit of an art form with cut-paper designs. Pastillas are a celebratory candy and are often given for birthdays and weddings.

If biting the head off a gummy bear is an odd sensation, consider the act of sinking your teeth into the gummy, powdered, sugarcoated jelly baby, a wee candy shaped like an infant. According to lore, what a 19th-century candy maker meant to be a jelly bean ended up looking more like a baby, so a confectioner called them unclaimed babies — like the ones frequently left on church steps in the era. In 1918, in a nod to the Armistice, Bassett’s of Sheffield sold them under the name Peace Babies, and in 1953 they were rebranded as Jelly Babies. Part of their fame comes from celebrity fans: Tom Baker’s Doctor Who carried them in his pockets, and George Harrison reportedly liked the candy, which resulted in the Beatles being pelted with them.

Edinburgh Rock, a confection that looks like a stick of chalk, was invented by a Scotsman known as Sweetie Sandy in the 19th century, when, as the myth goes, he found that old trays of candy developed a pleasingly crumbly texture. Recently, Ross’s of Edinburgh, the only company to manufacture the candy in Scotland, was set to close, as no descendants wanted to take over the family business. But a local businessman named James Anderson stepped in, and Edinburgh Rock is still manufactured in Scotland. Flavors include peppermint, raspberry, orange, lemon and vanilla.

Known for its zebra-striped wrapper, TomTom is a bit of a threefer, a hard candy with menthol that provides a hit of sugar, fresher breath and, according to its tag line, ‘‘soothing relief.’’ (Current flavors: classic, honey lemon and strawberry.) Cadbury has produced the candy in Lagos since 1970. It’s the official candy of the Super Eagles, the national Nigerian soccer team.

Cadbury reigns over the chocolate market in Pakistan; in 2017, Mondelez, its parent company, accounted for 66 percent of sales, in part because of the ultrapopular Dairy Milk chocolate bar. But CandyLand, the biggest candy company in the country, owns half the market for other confections. It’s also the largest producer of marshmallow in the country, including its Super Twister, a swirled rope of marshmallow with the color palette of a unicorn’s tail. The candy’s packaging was specifically designed to be attractive to children. An animated commercial for the candy has real-life kids swirling animated clouds and rainbows to create the pastel-colored sweet.

The traditional version of gaz, a Persian nougat studded with nuts, gets its sweetness from the excretions of a bug called the tamarisk manna scale, which is found on tamarisk trees in central Iran. (Originally, people believed the excretions to be sap because they dried on tree branches. Not so.) The candy comes from Isfahan and is made by combining the aforementioned excretions with starch, egg whites and sugar, heating it until it becomes the texture of paste and then stirring in pistachios. It’s often formed into logs and served in rounds. Good news for the squeamish: Most versions you find now are made with other sweeteners.

Don’t let the name confuse you: It’s a reference to one of the biggest cocoa-bean producers in the world, not where it’s made. The chocolate bar is known for its emotive commercials; in the 1980s, they used the slogan ‘‘Even solitude feels sweet when with Ghana.’’ Recently Ghana commercials have featured the Korean actor and heartthrob Park Bo-gum.

Lacta chocolate started in the 1960s as Galacta, named for gala, the Greek word for milk. In the ’90s, the brand tried to move away from being known as a kids’ candy and focused on a new slogan: ‘‘The sweetest part of your life.’’ The company doubled down in 2010, crowdsourcing love stories from its fans and vowing to create a video out of the winning submission. It received 1,307 stories and made a 27-minute video, with more than 11,000 people voting online to choose the actors, character names and wardrobes; some even served as extras. ‘‘Love in Action’’ was shown on Greece’s biggest TV channel on Valentine’s Day. Today Lacta is one of the best-selling milk chocolate brands in the country.

This candy bar, which translates as ‘‘bird’s milk,’’ is made up of an airy, vanilla-foam filling covered in chocolate. The candy was inspired by the Polish confectioner Jan Wedel’s trip to France, where he discovered marshmallow. Wedel started making the treat at the family factory in 1936. After the invasion of Poland, the company was forced to produce chocolate for the Germans, and Wedel was sent to the Nazi camp in Pruszkow. He survived the war, but the E. Wedel company was nationalized by the Communists and run by the government until 1989. It’s now owned by a Korean conglomerate, and there are flavors and versions for every holiday. In autumn, they are cafe latte and peanut butter.

Trade Kings, a Zambian-owned company founded in 1995, manufactured Boom Detergent Paste and imported foreign candy. But when its trade partnership fell through, the company decided to produce its own candy in Zambia. Now, its Amazon Pops are a signature product, and the company manufactures tons of candy a year. The pops are also popular in Tanzania and South Africa, where Trade Kings claims that it opened the largest candy-manufacturing line in the Southern Hemisphere in 2010. The treats come in flavors like black cherry, strawberry and pink lemonade.

The history of the Pineapple Chunk started in 1953 with Charles Richard Diver, a confectionery chef in Oamaru, New Zealand. He needed to figure out what to do with a bunch of leftover pineapple-flavored marshmallow from another product, so he covered it in chocolate and christened it the Pineapple Chunk. Over the years, Pineapple Chunks — or Pineapple Lumps, depending on the manufacturer — became a classic candy in New Zealand, and Cadbury manufactured its own version until ending production of it in the country earlier this year; now Rainbow Confectionery makes Pineapple Lumps. Don’t confuse them for Australian candy, though — a TV station once included them in a gift box of Australian delicacies meant for the British band One Direction, and New Zealanders were not pleased.

Tamarind, a pulpy, sweet-and-sour fruit, is a common flavor of candies in Latin America. Of them, Pelon Pelo Rico might be the wackiest: a plastic container filled with tamarind gel that you can squeeze out the top so that it looks like a man growing hair, a sort of candy-style Chia pet. Pelon Pelo Rico hit the market in 1985 and sells several hundred million units a year in Mexico. The candy comes in several flavors, but fans of spicy candy would do well with ‘‘hot intenso.’’

The Société des Produits de Sucre Caprice, based in Algiers, has been manufacturing these small, soft caramels since 1965. Today the candy is also distributed in some countries in the Maghreb region (North Africa) and in parts of Europe. Though the company also manufactures fruit chews, flavored caramels — including toffee, coffee and mint — and tutti-frutti-flavored bubble gum, the classic caramel in the gold wrapper is still an Algerian favorite.

Taichiro Morinaga, the founder of the company behind Hi-Chew, grew up poor in Japan. In 1888, at 23, he moved to the United States, where he experienced candy for the first time and decided to become a candy maker. Eleven years later, he opened the Morinaga Western Confectionery Shop in Tokyo, and in 1918 it was the first Japanese candy company to produce chocolate. Years later, while searching for a gumlike candy that you can actually swallow so as to avoid the rude act of removing food from your mouth, he came up with the predecessor of the Hi-Chew, a Starburst-like candy with a softer texture. Since 1975, more than 170 Hi-Chew flavors have been on the market. The latest: Açaí, pineapple and caramel apple.

Allsorts aren’t a South African concept — the jumble of colors and shapes was invented by a British company called Bassett’s, supposedly after a salesman dropped all his candy and a potential buyer loved the idea of the jumble — but Beacon’s version is a best-selling licorice candy in South Africa. The company was originally started by a Lithuanian immigrant who began his business making chocolate in the 1930s. Beacon pitches Allsorts as ‘‘the original play-food’’ because of the different shapes and colors that you can stretch and stack and mess around with. Though Allsorts are meant to be played with, they are popular among what the company calls ‘‘big kids’’ — those from 18 to 54. Originally available only in licorice flavor, the packs of candies now come in four varieties.

The company behind this anise-based candy traces the confection’s origins all the way back to the time of Caesar’s victory over the Gauls, when he brought aniseeds back to his troops. Centuries later, monks in Flavigny began making candies with the seeds, attracting fans, including, reportedly, Louis IX. Today, the process is basically the same, with candy makers covering a single, two-milligram anise seed with layers of sugary syrup until it builds up into a hard candy that weighs a gram. They’ve been manufactured by the Troubat family since 1923, and you can visit the factory, which is still in a monastery in France.

This year, the Peruvian favorite, a milk-chocolate-and-peanut candy bar, turns 90. First developed in 1928 by a company called D’Onofrio, it was sold out of a wooden wheelbarrow known as the hokey pokey. Over the decades, it took over the chocolate market in Peru, and the brand, now owned by Nestlé, still sells 148 million candy bars a year. It also just got a bit of a makeover, with new packaging and a new slogan on its wrapper: ‘‘Wear a smile.’’ To show it off, Nestlé Peru is running a huge marketing campaign, on TV, in newspapers and on outdoor LED screens around Lima.

Shokolad Para, which translates as cow chocolate, was introduced in 1933 as Shamnunit but in the 1950s was renamed because of the picture of a cow on its wrapper. Originally only available with milk chocolate, it is now available with everything from nougat to puffed rice to popping candy. The ‘‘Wonder Woman’’ actress Gal Gadot actually brought the popping-candy version on ‘‘The Tonight Show’’ for the host, Jimmy Fallon, to try on air. Shokolad Para is still one of the best-selling candy bars in Israel.

Elise Craig is a freelance writer and the managing editor of Pop-Up Magazine. She has written for Wired, Marie Claire, The California Sunday Magazine and The New York Times for Kids.

The Saltier the Licorice, the Happier the Country. Just Look at Finland.

My journey to the dark heart of salmiakki — the uniquely savory, deeply strange licorice that Finland just can’t quit.

By MARK BINELLI OCT. 23, 2018 Photo illustrations by BOBBY DOHERTY

In January 1940, in the pages of this very magazine, a writer by the excellent name of Hudson Strode published an article with the headline “Sisu: A Word That Explains Finland.” A Finnish concept that’s tricky to translate into English with any real precision, sisu represents something like a deep well of inner fortitude. The Wikipedia entry includes links to “stiff upper lip,” “cojones” and “chutzpah,” but none of those phrases or words quite capture it. A “special kind of strong will” is the definition Strode goes with, something drawn upon by the stoic in order to persevere in the face of extreme adversity — say, winter, if you live in Lapland.

At one point in the article, Strode visits a Finnish town near the Russian border and meets the local sheriff. For sentimental reasons, this sheriff carries around a dagger, which he hands to Strode. Apparently a previous owner used the blade to fend off six attackers. “They fought for an hour,” the sheriff says. “He cut the six to pieces. I saw the finish of the fight — it was a glorious display of sisu .” Strode doesn’t record his own response, but he seems impressed. The sheriff slips the knife back into its leather holster and gazes to the east. “We shall have need of sisu ,” he observes gravely, “to face what may come shortly.”

Reading about Strode’s journey — which took him to Finland at the start of World War II, only months before the Soviet invasion — I thought about my own rapidly approaching trip to the same country, for the same magazine, 79 years later. I smiled at the pleasing symmetry. Granted, my surname does not double as an active verb, not even in Italian. Also, I was going to Finland to report an article on salty licorice. But otherwise, our tasks were not dissimilar. Strode had introduced his readers to a word that explained a distant country and its underlying values. I would try to do the same, only with a really weird flavor of candy.

There would be need of sisu to face what might come shortly.

Throughout much of the world, licorice remains one of humanity’s most divisive confections. Hervé This, one of the food scientists who coined the term “molecular gastronomy,” likes to use licorice to attack the notion that humans possess four basic tastes. You might reflexively think of licorice as sweet, but it’s not, really, nor is it salty, sour or bitter. (Or umami, for that matter, This adds.) The confounding nature of licorice’s flavor has given rise to a sharp partisanship. Licorice candy has been compared, astutely, to the Grateful Dead, by none other than the Grateful Dead singer Jerry Garcia, who allowed in an interview: “Our audience is like people who like licorice. Not everybody likes licorice, but the people who like licorice really like licorice.”

To extend Garcia’s simile, albeit imperfectly, that would make salty licorice — salmiakki in Finland, where they consume the most potent flavors — the candy equivalent of a 47-minute version of “Dark Star.” Meaning, for superfans only.

With salmiakki , that fan base is clustered almost entirely in Northern Europe, in what Jukka Annala, the author of a book on salmiakki and the founder and president of the Finnish Salty Licorice Association, refers to as the seven “salty-licorice countries”: Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Iceland, Finland, the Netherlands and Germany (in its north). I should explain here that if you read “salty licorice” and think, “Well, I enjoy a sea-salt chocolate-chip cookie; how bad could this stuff be?” the salt used in salmiakki is not sea salt or even iodized table salt but ammonium chloride — sal ammoniacum in Latin, salmiac in English — an astringent, extremely bitter chemical compound formed, like all salts, by mixing a base and an acid, which in the case of salmiac are ammonia and either hydrochloric acid or hydrogen chloride.

At this point, you might wonder, “How is this different from the deeply unpleasant sour candies my own beloved children torture themselves with?” The thing is, in salty-licorice countries, salmiakki is not some niche product marketed exclusively at kids. It’s a respectable treat option for all ages and demographics. In fact, some packages are marked “not licorice for children.” In Helsinki, I scouted at least a dozen convenience stores and groceries, and every candy section therein contained at least one full display rack, sometimes several, dedicated exclusively to salmiakki . Certain brands packaged themselves like breath mints, in stylish cardboard packs, to appeal directly to adults. Your classic Finnish salmiakki comes in the shape of a black diamond, but you can also find salty-licorice dragster wheels, pirate coins, farm animals, “witch whistles” (which look more like gray cigarette butts), pacifiers, pastilles, skulls, hockey pucks, octopi, long flat strips resembling squid-ink fettuccine and, of course, traditional Swedish fish.

Amid the set of country-themed emoji released by Finland’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs in late 2015, there’s one for salmiakki — an ecstatic woman clutching a pair of black diamonds — described on the English-language website as “something Finns can’t live without.” “It’s sort of the national candy,” Annala told me. Which is saying something, because tiny Finland tends to punch far above its weight when it comes to candy appetites over all. A 2017 study by the London-based market-research firm Euromonitor International ranked the country fifth worldwide in per capita candy consumption. Three other salty-licorice countries, Sweden, the Netherlands and Norway, placed third, ninth and 10th. (The United States didn’t even crack the Top 10.)

Here’s another interesting statistic: Finland just scored the top spot on the 2018 World Happiness Report. It’s produced by a United Nations initiative based on global polling data from Gallup, and you can make of the methodology what you will, but Finns reported themselves happier than any other nationality on earth, and they were followed on the list by three Nordic neighbors: Norway, Denmark and Iceland. Americans, meanwhile, came in at a dismal 18th. Correlation does not mean causation, but come on, this is totally causation, right? All those salty-licorice countries clustered at the very top? Maybe it’s not so crazy to think about reported national happiness in relationship to something like a favorite national candy, because what is candy, after all, if not an elemental signifier of happiness and also something extraordinarily culturally specific and wrapped up in nostalgia and childhood memories and, by proxy, national identity?

So when considering the romanticized notion of Scandinavia that’s taken hold of the non-Nordic imagination in recent years — a land of a happy citizenry, of generous social-welfare programs and prisons nicer than our schools and schools nicer than even that, a land of hygge and Noma and Björk — could examining their love of salty licorice be one small but crucial means of unlocking a secret to living that the rest of us, particularly those of us all the way down at No.18, gorging ourselves on king-size Snickers bars like overgrown children unable to handle complicated flavors, haven’t figured out?

Annala had offered to arrange a salty-licorice tasting for me in Helsinki, as well as convene a meeting of the F.S.L.A.’s Salmiakkikonklaavi ( Salmiakki Conclave), the ruling body that awards a Salty Licorice of the Year honor at the group’s spring gala. The first gala took place in 1998, shortly after the founding of the F.S.L.A., whose membership numbers about 80. One year, Annala told me, “some people misunderstood that the word ‘gala’ was an ironic thing and came in gowns.”

I was grateful for Annala’s offer. Though it’s no longer especially popular in America, I happen to enjoy black licorice, or at least I used to as a boy, when it came in the shoestring-length “whips” more common back then. (These had the added bonus of really stinging if you managed to snap, say, a younger brother’s arm or cheek just so. What can I say? “Indiana Jones” had just come out. We dug whips.) By Nordic standards, however, my licorice palate lacked sophistication. In the United States, our favorite licorice snack, far and away, remains the crimson middle finger that is the red Twizzler, which is technically not even licorice — those Twizzlers are strawberry-flavored, not licorice-flavored, contain no licorice extract and offer all the masticatory pleasures of an edible candle — and which I’d imagine for licorice purists is akin to stuffing a loaf of Wonder Bread into a poster tube and calling what comes out the other end a baguette.

Annala, diplomatically, made no mention of Twizzlers when we met for lunch at one of Helsinki’s most venerable restaurants, the Ravintola Sea Horse, which has been around since the 1930s and is still a haunt of artists and cultural figures. The house specialty, fried Baltic herring, comes stacked like kindling on an oversize plate. Annala greeted me from a booth. In picturing him, a middle-aged professional obsessed enough with his favorite candy to start a fan club, I expected some combination of zany and plump, but he turned out to be a trim man with a neat, graying beard, pale blue eyes and a slight air of Nordic melancholy. He apologized for his low energy: He was just recovering from the flu. By day, Annala works as an editor at the Finnish News Agency S.T.T., the main wire service in Finland. “Salmiakki,” his handsome and lavishly researched coffee-table book, was published in 2001.

In the book, Annala traces the origins of salty licorice to early-20th-century pharmacies, when chemists in Finland and parts of Scandinavia began selling salmiakki as a cough medicine. (Ammonium chloride acts as an expectorant, which adds credence to the commonly cited theory that the people in certain colder climates were initially drawn to salty licorice for health reasons.) The salmiakki most often came in powdered form in little envelopes, though syrups and diamond-shaped lozenges were also available. Salmiakki , like traditional licorice, is made from licorice root, which is mixed with wheat flour and turned into a paste that is generally dyed black. (The natural color of licorice-root extract is closer to the ocher shade of powdered salmiakki .) Additional flavors can be added to the paste — ammonium chloride in the case of salmiakki , but also anise, toffee, menthol — before it’s molded into candy shapes.

Even before the addition of ammonium chloride, licorice root had been used as a respiratory and digestive aid for millenniums. It turns up in the “Charaka-Samhita,” an ancient Hindu medical text, and in Theophrastus’ “Enquiry Into Plants.” And at least according to citations in the Oxford English Dictionary, “lycuresse” is both “good for the voyce” and “doth loose fleume.” (The O.E.D. also quotes the English writer R.D. Blackmore’s 1869 novel “Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor:” “I cough sometimes in the winter-weather, and father gives me lickerish.”) Sometime around 1760, an English apothecary named George Dunhill receives credit for being the first to add sugar to the licorice lozenges he sold at his shop, in the Yorkshire town of Pontefract, cementing the herbal medicine’s off-label use as a sweet. So-called Pontefract Cakes are still sold in the United Kingdom, though now they’re manufactured by the German candy giant Haribo.

After our meal, Annala unzipped his backpack and removed a jar of salty licorice produced by one of his favorite salmiakki manufacturers, Namitupa, a small-batch label out of Ilmajoki, a town in southwestern Finland. The licorice was in powdered form, in the old pharmacy style, which Annala adored. The F.S.L.A. named it Salmiakki of the Year for 2012. Annala unscrewed the lid, instructed me to hold out my hand and tapped a modest pile into the center of my palm. “It’s a bit messy, but this is the traditional way to do it,” Annala explained. Then he shrugged, apologetic. “Not so hygienic. Not so aesthetic.”

I glanced around anxiously, feeling as though we should have maybe skulked off to a toilet stall before getting into this part of the interview. The powder was extremely fine and looked like ground cumin. I’ll note that before my investigations into salmiakki , I had never tasted it, and my original plan had been to meet Annala in a virginal state. But then a friend heard about the article and ended up bringing some Dutch salty licorice — a gift from a Scandinavian ex-girlfriend — to a bar one afternoon, so I broke down and tried it. Having seen a series of YouTube videos involving non-salty-licorice-country children being tricked into eating salty licorice, I have to admit: I expected worse. The Dutch candy, a coin-size black disc, had a mild saltiness that canceled out the licorice flavor, but just barely, leaving me feeling as if I were gnawing on a savory leather button. So, not my first choice of things to put in my mouth, sure, but also not the makings of “Jackass”-style reaction videos.

“This is different,” Annala assured me. “This is real Finnish salmiakki . Quite strong stuff.” Heaping some of the powder into his own palm, he said, “Now you lick it.”

Had I expected things to proceed more in the fashion of a genteel tasting at a Lexington whiskey distillery and less like, say, a scene from a William S. Burroughs novel in which the characters ingest weird, made-up drugs? Yes, I had.

Anyway. I licked it. The salmiakki tasted as if someone had made a bouillon cube out of a briny licorice stock, then crushed it into a powder. My tongue immediately tingled. After my experience with the underwhelming Dutch licorice, I hadn’t been prepared for how — what’s the tasting note I’m looking for? — ammonium-chloride-forward Finnish salmiakki would be. It was pungent, in a saltier-than-salt way that brought some heat. The licorice had an aggressive presence as well, which might sound like a good thing, a potential balance, but it seemed only to intensify the curdled chemical aftertaste, some combination of diet cola, fennel toothpaste and MSG that multiple sips of water wouldn’t flush.

Across the table, Annala seemed lost in a reverie. “Mmm,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment, as if to shut out all senses but taste. “So delicious.”

Over the course of the next seven hours, at multiple locations, we consumed a considerable, perhaps unhealthful, amount of salmiakki . I tasted brittle black tokens strong enough to make my eyes water. Annala happily crunched several at once, as if he’d just plucked his favorite bits from a sack of trail mix, announcing, “It’s like eating iron!” We drank shots of salty-licorice vodka, a popular spirit throughout Scandinavia. (In “The Nordic Cookbook” the Swedish chef Magnus Nilsson, whose restaurant Faviken Magasinet is an internationally lauded purveyor of New Nordic cuisine, writes about teenage friends making bootleg versions of the stuff by packing salty licorice into a three-quarter-filled bottle of vodka and running it through the dishwasher.)

We met two members of the Salmiakkikonklaavi , Juha Hellsten and Kaija Collin, at a bar with red carpeting and white plastic-laminate bistro tables that felt like someone’s idea of the future in 1967. Annala placed a mixed bag of loose salmiakki in the center of the table and tore down its sides so they looked like the petals of a giant flower, the pile of licorice now a teeming black bulb. Choosing a subtly flavored Swedish fish, Annala twisted it between his fingers, then took a bite and nodded approvingly. “It’s mild, but has just enough salty licorice to make it acceptable. And the structure is very good and playful.”

Hellsten, who works in management at the telecommunications company Ericsson and has been known to partly fill a suitcase with salmiakki when traveling to non-salty-licorice countries, agreed: “It’s not a top scorer. But a reliable defender on the team.” Annala said one thing he loved about salmiakki was the “drama of the candy,” by which he meant that the flavor evolved as you experienced it, like different acts of a play. “Sometimes there is a shock effect on the surface, then it is sweet inside,” he explained. “What’s happening changes from the first to the middle to the end to the aftermath.”

Collin, who works at her family’s asbestos-removal company, bit into a black alligator with a white belly and frowned. “This is not salmiakki ,” she said.

Annala tried one and determined that the belly was, in fact, marshmallow. “It’s a crime to call this salty licorice!” he said, throwing down the candy in disgust.

Collin handed me a black lump and said: “Now I want you to try this one. No one else does it. Tar candy!”

It was a Tervapiru (“Tar Devil”), and it did, indeed, smell like a black-market cigarette with the filter torn off. I felt as if it also tasted strongly of tar, though I can’t say for sure, not having knowingly tasted tar before. (Finns add tar, derived in their country from wood rather than coal, to various foods as a smoky flavoring agent.)

“I remember tasting pure ammonium chloride,” Hellsten said. He had pushed up the sleeves of his cardigan and was rooting around in the licorice pile.

“Did you like it?” Annala asked.

“ ‘Like’ is perhaps not the right word,” Hellsten said.

At a certain point, I hit a wall. When someone shook a couple of strong salmiakki mints into my hand, I popped only one of them, palming the second and slipping it into my shoe while pretending to scratch my ankle.

Someone brought up a 2012 move by the European Union to sharply curb the allowable per-gram amount of ammonium chloride in food, which would have effectively banned salmiakki and possibly triggered a Finnexit. A Finnish E.U. bureaucrat helped intervene in the end, and candy was exempted from the rule. Annala invited the bureaucrat to the F.S.L.A. gala, but she never responded.

Fazer is the unofficial candy brand of Finland, the national equivalent of Hershey or Cadbury. Its founder, Karl Fazer, was born in Helsinki in 1866, one year after Jean Sibelius. His father, a Swiss immigrant, worked as a furrier, but Karl, the youngest son of eight children, always loved baking with his mother, and after an apprenticeship in St. Petersburg, he opened a French-Russian confectionery shop in Helsinki in 1891. By 1922, Fazer had begun mass-producing the milk-chocolate bars upon which he would build his fortune, their patriotic “Fazer Blue” wrappers a nod to the cross on the Finnish flag. (The country achieved independence from Russia five years earlier.) The company remains in the hands of the Fazer family, with 15,000 employees worldwide. Some of the products introduced in Karl’s day are still on the market, including Mignons, handmade Easter delicacies that require deyolking actual eggs, then refilling the intact shells with hazelnut chocolate.

Fazer is also the largest producer of licorice in the country. In 1927, the company bought a British-Finnish biscuit-and-licorice company and released its signature line of sweet licorice the following year. The wrapper design featured a racist “golliwog” caricature, the British equivalent of a Sambo doll, which, depressingly, was not uncommon in itself — you can find historic examples of noxious candy packaging throughout the world — but which Fazer failed to jettison until 2007, in part under pressure from the European Union. (Why the company took so long to act is a “good and hard question,” a Fazer spokeswoman, Liisa Eerola, told me in an email. “Culturally, Finland was quite isolated for a long time. ... Looking back, it is easy to say that we moved far too late.”) Fazer has been making salmiakki since 1938, and its portfolio of salty offerings now includes products like Super Salmiakki , Pantteri (“Panther”) and Tyrkisk Peber (“Turkish Pepper”), so spicy that it’s ranked like hot sauce, with a flaming-star rating system.

All these treats are made at the Fazer complex in Lappeenranta, two hours from Helsinki by train and about 16 miles from the Russian border. The factory is a century-old redbrick building with a series of modern additions, built along the shore of the largest lake in Finland. It has 300 employees and runs three to five shifts, depending on the candy needs of the nearest holiday. In 2017, the factory produced 19,200 tons of candy: Mariannes (white peppermint pearls with chocolate centers), Tutti Fruttis (variously flavored gummies), Avecs (petite “French”-style pastilles), Amerikans (much larger “American”-style pastilles, which my tour guide enjoyed teasing me about) and all manner of salmiakki . Fifteen percent of Lappeenranta’s output is salty licorice, translating to roughly 3,000 tons of the stuff last year.

The factory was very much a typical factory in certain ways (vast, noisy) and more specifically a candy factory in others (my shoes stuck to the floors from the sugar, and there was a pleasant, lingering odor of fruit more or less wherever I went). As thoroughly automated as any car plant I’d visited in Detroit, the place felt, as those factories did, like both an extraordinary human achievement and an allegory for human redundancy in the form of a mechanical tableau vivant . Stamping presses pounded candy shapes into sheets of starch powder; licorice or sugary fillings were squirted into molds; robot arms hoisted trays onto drying racks. In one room, a lone human employee manually plucked misshapen candies from a conveyor belt, tossing them into a plastic hopper at his feet. I found myself hoping the belt would accidentally speed up and force him to begin gobbling candy, Lucy-and-Ethel-style. But apparently there’s an optical scanner also checking the candy shapes, and if anything goes wrong, an alarm will sound.

As the tour continued, I couldn’t help wondering how future international demand might affect the facility. After all, we’re living in a time when fashionable omnivorism and a growing hipster monoculture have conspired to make even the most previously obscure regional delicacies available, if not everywhere, then at least far from their natural habitats. Hawaiian poke is no longer served solely on the Big Island; Detroit-style pizza has migrated well beyond Eight Mile Road. Nashville hot chicken, East Harlem chopped-cheese sandwiches — we could go on. Why not salmiakki ?

But when I met Petri Tervonen, Fazer’s marketing director at the time, he smiled when I asked if the company had made any big push to export salty licorice outside Northern Europe. Salmiakki’s “taste profile,” he explained, was “much more intense” than the average consumer in a non-salty-licorice country was accustomed to. “So you have a natural kind of barrier.”

We were eating bowls of salmon soup in the cafeteria of a different Fazer facility near Helsinki, a building whose curved glass walls and blond wood ceiling made it look like a U.F.O. conceived by a team of Scandinavian designers. Tervonen had moved to Fazer eight years ago from another of Finland’s iconic brands, Nokia. He told me Fazer was planning to introduce a line of premium dark chocolate called Nordi in the United States next year and gave me a sneak preview of the bars. The sleek packaging nodded toward chic, aspirational Scandinavian lifestyle trends, featuring scenes of Nordic splendor: pristine mountain rivers, the candied glow of smoke from a cozy sauna. “Here, our brand awareness is 100 percent, but if you were to rank all confectioners worldwide, we’re probably No.40-something,” Tervonen said. “So we’re competing with giants. What is typical for the category as a whole is it’s an impulse decision. Not many people write down ‘Buy chocolate’ on their shopping list. So how do you get people to stop in front of what you’re selling, make them curious and then get them to try it?”

I kept pushing on salmiakki . Wouldn’t a shopper at Whole Foods at least be curious? Secretly, I pictured a series of alternate sleeves for a Nordi brand of premium salty licorice, scenes that might reflect the darker side of Scandinavian culture, thus preparing potential buyers for what they might be getting into. A black-metal band burning down a church? Max von Sydow playing chess with Death?

Tervonen said the trend forecasters they worked with in the States had tasted salty licorice in the past and found it “interesting,” which Tervonen pronounced in a way that did not sound promising. He shrugged. “Salty licorice is a taste that divides opinion, even here.” He said he had two sons: The 8-year-old loves salmiakki , but the 11-year-old can’t stand it.

The worst licorice I tasted during my epic night with the Salmiakkikonklaavi turned out to be a candied heart. I’d instinctively reached for one, the color (red as a raspberry) and shape tricking my brain into momentarily believing I’d selected something sweeter. It turned out to be the saltiest and most abrasive item on the menu, a flavor assault only heightened by the dissonance of the delivery mechanism.

A plastic twist-bag of those hearts has been sitting at the foot of my desk since I returned from Helsinki, buried within a larger grocery bag of salmiakki I’d hauled back to my apartment. Reijo Laine, the founder of Namitupa, the producer of the hearts, had recommended that I make a present of the candy to my wife. “She will be happy with you for six weeks,” he added, with a mysterious precision.

That had struck me as a poor idea. But back home, as I struggled to account for the appeal of salmiakki , I thought, again, about sisu . Was the defining Finnish attribute really as noble as Hudson Strode made it out to be? What if, in fact, it merely represented a national tendency toward masochism, some understandable but aberrant quality born of endless winter nights that wound up manifesting itself in a fanatical love of saunas and Turkish Peppers?

Yet I couldn’t shake my memory of the blissful expressions on the faces of the members of the Salmiakkikonklaavi . To pathologize such a love felt narrow-minded, unfair. So maybe the answer hinged on flipping the question. Forget about the salty-licorice countries for a moment: Why does salmiakki feel like such a category error to the rest of us? And was the answer to that question right in front of my face? Could one of the secrets to Finnish happiness simply come down to not always expecting hearts to be sweet?

Dumping the bag of licorice onto my desk, I began to dig around, pushing aside a Super Salmiakki lollipop, a packet of Dracula Piller ( salmiakki with a creepy vampire mascot), a box of peppered salmiakki pellets (actually called Sisu !), before finally extracting what I was looking for. And what do you know? With the foreknowledge of what was coming, it didn’t taste all that bad. I mean, certainly no worse than any of the rest.

I resealed the bag of hearts and replaced them in the shopping bag. I haven’t touched any licorice since.

Mark Binelli is a contributing writer for the magazine and the author of “Detroit City Is the Place to Be.” He last wrote for the magazine about the Australian author Gerald Murnane.

Inside Colombia’s Beloved Candy Factory

For millions of Latin Americans, the Colombina factory in La Paila is the place where sweet moments are made.

Photographs by CHRISTOPHER PAYNE OCT. 23, 2018 By INGRID ROJAS CONTRERAS

Leer en enspañol

Like any good immigrant, I know on which bodega shelves to find the food portals to my childhood. I know where to turn, where to crouch, where to bow before the ready-made boxes to make Colombian buñuelos, pandebonos, pandeyucas and arepas . But the one food item I cannot find in San Francisco is the candy of my childhood.

I grew, as we say in Colombia, a punta de Bon Bon Bum . The strawberry lollipop was such a central part of my diet, I wouldn’t be surprised if I was made of equal parts Valle del Cauca sugar and red dye No.40. Bon Bon Bums (pronounced like the French bonbon and the English “boom”) are lollipops with a gum center made in tropical flavors commonly found in the country ( maracuyá , watermelon, lulo , pineapple, mango). They are the star product of Colombina, the nation’s beloved candy company. Bon Bon Bums are exported to 90 countries, including all of South America, the Caribbean and even Papua New Guinea and China. In much of Latin America, the phrase has become shorthand to describe a body type (big butt and skinny legs), and all lollipops, no matter the brand, are known as bon bon bums. They are as central to growing up Hispano as receiving your first merengue lessons on New Year’s Eve from a drunk tío or tía who insists your life depends on your ability to sway your hips with swing. Shakira has been known to carry a few Bon Bon Bums at all times in her purse.

For nearly 50 years, Bon Bon Bums have been produced in the Colombina factory in La Paila, north of Cali. At the start, 20 workers were responsible for the production of four million lollipops per month. Today, in that same factory, 200 workers produce more than 40 times as many.

Bon Bon Bum is not Colombina’s only candy. The first candy was a flat sucker made out of cane sugar and natural juices. My father liked them, but his absolute favorite was the caramel drop infused with Colombian coffee. He sucked on them while driving and waiting in line, the two inescapable activities of living in Bogotá. For my older sister, Francis, the palm-sized plastic tray of chocolate-hazelnut and vanilla spreads was a necessity. She spent half an hour with the tiny spatula, meticulously eating and selectively mixing the halved creams. My grandmother, who lived in a small town near the Venezuelan border, bought large quantities of pâte de fruit wedges with the intention of reselling them to her neighbors, but I often caught her eating them on her own, squeezing them in her hands, making the colorful gelatin bulge, the tips of her fingers covered in a dusting of sugar. For my little cousins, the powdery marshmallows that looked like soft, pastel corkscrews were the most fun. They waved them in front of us like fishing poles until we caved and took a bite.

Colombina was born in the Cauca Valley, where the land is hot and humid. The air smells of sugar cane and pineapple, which grow abundantly in the region. The vision for Colombina came to the founder, Hernando Caicedo, in the 1920s as he tended his small sugar-cane mill. Caicedo’s mill, powered by the circumnavigations of yoked oxen, produced hardened blocks of unrefined cane sugar, which Colombians have long thought of as medicine, using the blocks to make aguapanela , a concoction of honey and lemon believed to cure everything from a hangover to a mother’s low breast-milk supply. It was at this mill that the idea of candy with a tropical flair took hold. In just a few years, Caicedo rounded up the funds, readied a warehouse and traveled with a flat lollipop machine from the United States to the town of La Paila.

Today Colombina is a multinational company, but it is also a family one, run by the founder’s grandson, César Caicedo. The factory in La Paila has become perhaps the largest hard-candy plant in all of South America. Two thousand three hundred people work there, and it is not uncommon to find families where three generations have worked on the factory floor. Colombina provides day care for its workers, offers student scholarships and even holds a national soccer tournament where, this year, 34,000 young players had the chance to be scouted by the professional clubs. When the company bids the old year goodbye, it does so in a nearby coliseum, with the help of a salsa brass band, a generous spread of nourishments and refreshments and much dancing and revelry.

A look inside the Colombina plant shows how this old-fashioned corporate philosophy extends to the factory floor. In part to keep more workers employed, many of the hard candies at Colombina are still mixed and prepared by hand. The large vats, where workers stir cane sugar until it boils and takes on a glowing amber color, date back to before Bon Bon Bums had been created, as do the iron caldrons where the fruit extracts and amber sugar combine into highly pigmented neon globs. Workers in white aprons and brick-red rubber gloves hand-turn the candy — called caramelo at this stage — with long rods in order to cool them. The neon goo will be used to make Bon Bon Bums and Fruticas, candy drops sometimes shaped like hearts and lemons.

Machines — a mix of old and new — take over once the caramelo has set. One of the new machines might churn out small armies of bright red gummy bears, injecting them with candied syrups and bathing them in hot chocolate that will dry into a soft shell in seconds. This is the process for the Grissly ChocoSplash, a favorite among the workers on the factory floor. But even the old machines keeps precise, hypnotic movements, spitting out strings of molded candy at regular intervals. The candy fresh from one set of machines will then travel down moving belts, awaiting hand inspection. In gloves and protective glasses cinched over their hooded jumpsuits, workers add the final touches, discarding flawed specimens or steering the candies into the best position on the belt, almost ready to be packaged.

It had been 10 years since I last had a Bon Bon Bum. When I turned 24, I deemed I was too old for them. Recently, the hankering returned, and I deemed I was old enough to have them again. I scanned the bodega shelves in San Francisco one more time before placing an order online. We all have our rituals for consuming candy, but I had forgotten what ceremonies I performed when consuming a Bon Bon Bum. Holding the stem in my hand, though, the rote motions emerged in spite of myself: I observed my hands unwind the cinched wrapper by twirling the lollipop head, I noted how I pulled the wrapper’s flared ends down so that it looked briefly like a cape before slipping it off the stem altogether. Soon my mouth became full of familiars — the sweet and tart making my tongue surge, the accidental clack of the hard candy against the back of my teeth. I remembered that I used to try to make the orb perfectly round, sucking selectively, taking the Bon Bon Bum out to check my progress. I continued the old task, until the very first champagne-pink edges of the gum broke through the surface. Then, the sensation jolted childhood memories from me I did not know I still possessed.

We whiled away the time by sucking Bon Bon Bums, my sister Francis and I. The ruby globe shrank and shrank until all that was left was the heart of gum. This was the metronome of our childhood. Once the Bon Bon Bum was gone, we ironed out the wrapper, and I held onto one end and Francis held onto the other. We would make a wish, then pull. Whoever got the longer wrapper got the wish. I wished for peace on earth, the survival of all whales, my first kiss. My first kiss came at night in the middle of the street. It was bookended by my taking a Bon Bon Bum out of my mouth and putting it back in. At slow hours, I held my Bon Bon Bum to the sun, watching the translucent red planet glow from within. There were air bubbles trapped inside, in the dazzling undersurface of the lollipop, which itself was striated like the radial veins of a banana leaf.

I remembered how on New Year’s Eve I lay on the floor of my grandmother’s house. Nona pushed against the balled-up masa in her kitchen, and I on the floor used the slow and steady force of my tongue to eat away at the candy. Come midnight, a bouquet of sparklers would flash gold in my hand, the sky would be jeweled with fireworks and Tío Víctor, nostalgic and happy, would come out to celebrate with us. He would stand with his rifle at the edge of the jungle and fire just once up at the sky toward the palm trees, just as my grandfather used to do. And then, in the startled silence after the shot, I would unwrap another Bon Bon Bum.

Christopher Payne is a photographer who specializes in architecture and American industry. He previously photographed one of America’s last pencil factories for the magazine.

Ingrid Rojas Contreras is a Colombian writer based in San Francisco. Her debut novel, “Fruit of the Drunken Tree,” was published this summer.

More on NYTimes.com

Advertisement

Brought to you by:

Nestlé KITKAT in Japan (A): Sparking a Cultural Revolution

By: Philip Sugai, Adrian Sossna

In 2008, the marketing manager for Nestlé Japan's confectionery business and his team were struggling to redefine the KITKAT brand within the Japanese market. KITKAT as a brand faced a real threat as…

• Length: 12 page(s)
• Publication Date: Jul 14, 2017
• Discipline: Marketing
• Product #: W17424-PDF-ENG

What's included:

• Teaching Note
• Educator Copy

$4.95 per student

degree granting course

$8.95 per student

non-degree granting course

Get access to this material, plus much more with a free Educator Account:

• Access to world-famous HBS cases
• Up to 60% off materials for your students
• Resources for teaching online
• Tips and reviews from other Educators

Already registered? Sign in

• Student Registration
• Non-Academic Registration
• Included Materials

In 2008, the marketing manager for Nestlé Japan's confectionery business and his team were struggling to redefine the KITKAT brand within the Japanese market. KITKAT as a brand faced a real threat as the retail environment rapidly shifted toward increasingly powerful convenience store chains and consumer preferences shifted toward more novel consumable products. With more than 200 companies competing within Japan's crowded and relatively stable confectionery market, Nestlé Japan was facing the harsh realities of Japan's famed position as the world's toughest consumer market. To address these challenges, Nestlé Japan worked over 15 years to instill deep meaning in the KITKAT brand and then, based upon this foundation, created a comprehensive product portfolio. How can KITKAT capitalize on its past success as it moves forward?

Philip Sugai is affiliated with Doshisha University.

Learning Objectives

This case series is designed for introductory marketing courses at the MBA level in order to help focus students on the process of marketing strategy development. Because it explores issues related to brands and the concept of premiumization, it is also appropriate for courses on brand management, marketing strategy, new product development, innovation, consumer behaviour, and general strategy. Finally, as this case series introduces a number of insights about Japanese consumer behaviour, it is also appropriate for courses focused on Japan, business in Japan, or business in Asia. This case series outlines effective solutions for brands struggling to re-focus and instill deep meaning into a consumer product brand. Students will learn The use of marketing research to identify the most important problems faced by a specific target customer group (or lightning rod target customer segment); How to leverage these insights to develop a clear and compelling story that resonates with this target customer group; How to assemble a comprehensive ecosystem of partners to reinforce this story and ensure that it is consistently delivered with the highest possible value to all members; How to identify scarce resources within the delivery of products or services and leverage these for competitive advantage; How to infuse meaning into a brand during a time of crisis (in this case, during one of the worst earthquakes ever experienced); and How to build premiumization efforts upon an existing product line or category.

Jul 14, 2017 (Revised: Jun 20, 2019)

Discipline:

Geographies:

Industries:

Accommodations

Ivey Publishing

W17424-PDF-ENG

We use cookies to understand how you use our site and to improve your experience, including personalizing content. Learn More . By continuing to use our site, you accept our use of cookies and revised Privacy Policy .

The Unique and Creative Marketing Strategies of KitKat

Today, I am going to tell you the marketing strategy of a very famous chocolate. Guess the name of this brand using these hints.

It comes in a bright red wrapper, has a simple yet catchy tagline, and is associated with Google Android System.

It is a chocolate-coated wafer which people usually have in their 'break'. I know many of you must have guessed the name. I am obviously talking about KitKat.

The chocolate which was launched in the UK in 1935 has become very popular and everyone at least once in their lives has eaten this mouth-watering chocolate wafer. In the United States alone approximately 192 million Kit Kat bars are sold every year.

Let's understand the marketing strategy of KitKat in great detail.

Brief History of KitKat Marketing Strategy of KitKat

Brief History of KitKat

The brand Kit Kat originated in the late 17th century in London. The first four-finger wafer was manufactured on August 29 1935, in New York.

Later in 1937, the product was rebranded as Kit Kat chocolate crisp. The famous tagline ' Have a break Have a Kitkat ' was first launched in 1958.

During the second world war in 1942, there was a shortage of ingredients including milk. Due to this the recipe of KitKat was changed.

A blue wrapper was used instead of red, the oval logo was removed and the KitKat logo was written in bold. In 1949, the original milk recipe and the red wrapper were used again. In 1988, KitKat was acquired by Nestlé .

List of Courses Curated By Top Marketing Professionals in the Industry

These are the courses curated by Top Marketing Professionals in the Industry who have spent 100+ Hours reviewing the Courses available in the market. These courses will help you to get a job or upgrade your skills.

Marketing Strategy of KitKat

Kitkat promoted itself quite uniquely. Here are the creative marketing and advertising strategies of Kitkat that made it dominate the chocolate industry.

Consistent Tagline

Since 1958 the tagline ' Have a break Have a KitKat ' has never been changed. It is catchy and easy to remember. The tagline is present on their packaging , online, and in print advertisements .

Most importantly, the tagline has branded the company as a social snack. It connects with the audience and generates the idea that you can have chocolate whenever you are free. You don't need any special occasion to eat KitKat.

The tagline resonates with the audience. People don't feel that they are buying something or the brand is trying to sell them anything.

The main focus of the brand is to make KitKat a part of everyone's life. This same strategy is also used by Coca-Cola . Today, even if I just say the tagline you will understand that I am talking about KitKat. This shows the brand's popularity.

Unique Flavours

Did you know there are more than 200 different flavours and editions of KitKat? Most of the flavours are produced in Japan. Some of them include soy sauce, green tea, ginger ale, banana, and much more.

KitKat white and dark chocolates are famous all around the world. KitKat provides different flavours and sizes for different markets. The first flavour variant introduced by KitKat was orange which was sold in the United Kingdom a long time back. You will find half-finger-sized KitKat Petite in Japan and 12-finger-sized family bars in France and Australia.

Many people were excited about all these flavors. Popular YouTube artist Emmymade in Japan was also keen on KitKat variants. She posted many videos of herself trying out different KitKat flavors.

Buzzfeed also posted a two-part video series on this topic. The series was named 'Americans Try Exotic Japanese KitKats'. These videos received 9 million views. It also got hundreds of comments from people all around the world who expressed their desire of trying out all these flavors.

Aggressive Social Media Marketing

Social Media is great for brands to interact with their audience. KitKat has around 999K followers on Instagram and 25M on Facebook. Interestingly, the company has made a different account for India which has 67.4K followers.

In all their posts the word 'break' is constantly used for brand awareness. The brand constantly interacts with people on social media. They run a lot of campaigns on Facebook .

The company uses moment marketing on social media. When brands interact with other brands on social media it is known as moment marketing.

The brand has collaborated with other famous snack brands. One of their best collaborations includes Oreo KitKat. The interaction of KitKat with other brands generated hundreds of retweets and created a good brand image in the market.

Want to Work in Top Gobal & Indian Startups or Looking For Remote/Web3 Jobs - Join angel.co

Angel.co is the best Job Searching Platform to find a Job in Your Preferred domain like tech, marketing, HR etc.

Collaboration with Google

In 2013, KitKat collaborated with Google. This is one of the best collaborations for KitKat. Google was very famous and collaborating with them ensured great sales.

Many people think it was KitKat who proposed this idea but, actually it was Google. The reason was simple, Google Engineers loved Kit Kat. Google wanted to name version 4.4 of their Android operating system KitKat.

'We couldn’t imagine a better name for our Android K release than the tasty chocolate that’s been a favourite among the team since the early days of Android' said the Director of Android Marketing Marc Vanlerberghe.

However, this deal had its own risk. If the Android version did not come out to be good, it would have affected the brand image of KitKat. Although both companies decided to bear the risk and implemented the plan .

To celebrate their collaboration 50 million KitKat bars with the branding of Android were sold in 19 countries. They also offered buyers a chance to win a Nexus 7 tablet and Google Play gift cards.

As you can see the marketing strategy of KitKat was unique. But, the most important thing is that their product was of high quality. Even if you see it now, KitKat still has the charm that it had a few years back. KitKat connected with its audience and understood their needs.

A wide variety of flavors, taglines, and packaging played a very important role in the brand's success. They faced high competition from Cadbury but, due to their unique product the company kept growing. So, the learning here is to provide a unique and high-quality product to your target audience.

List of the Best Laptops in India for Office and Personal use

The List has been curated keeping in mind the requirements for a professional/student which are Performance, Display, Operating system, Design, Ports & Connectivity. So what you are waiting for? Check the list now to find the perfect laptop for yourself.

What is the Target audience of KitKat?

The Target audience of KitKat is men, women and kids of all ages.

How is KitKat so successful?

The main reason behind KitKat's success is its unique product. The chocolate wafer is loved by everyone. Apart from the product their packaging and tagline have also helped the brand to grow.

In how many countries does KitKat sell?

KitKat sells in more than 80 countries.

What is the meaning of Kitkat's tagline 'Have a break Have a Kitkat'?

The tagline generates the idea that you can have the chocolate whenever you are free. You don't need any special occasion to eat KitKat. The tagline resonates with the audience. People don't feel that the brand is trying to sell them anything. The main focus of the company is to make KitKat a part of everyone's life.

How does KitKat promote?

KitKat has collaborated with other brands which increases brand awareness. They advertise on television, posters, and billboards. The company advertises aggressively on social media to increase its reach and sales.

Must have tools for startups - Recommended by StartupTalky

• Manage your business smoothly- Google Workspace

Integrating AI for Sustainable Technological Growth in Healthcare Start-ups

This article has been contributed by Dr. Harshit Jain, Founder & Global CEO, Doceree. In the continually evolving technological terrain, artificial intelligence (AI) and machine learning have stood out as the titans reshaping industries across the globe. In this revolution, healthcare emerges as a frontrunner, commanding a staggering 11% of the

Urban Company Business Model | How does Urban Company Make Money

Urban Company previously UrbanClap, has made our at-home services so easy. It has revolutionized the way we were using our various services. Earlier, we had to go out to get our services done. But with Urban Company, we get to enjoy them at home. The services include beauty, spa, repair

How AI Voice Agents Work and How Can They Enhance Customer Interactions and Business Operations

This article has been contributed by Mr. Sarvagya Mishra, Co-founder and Director, Superbot, an AI-powered voice agent startup. In today’s hyper-connected world, businesses face growing pressure to deliver personalized and efficient customer service. This demand is particularly pronounced among small and medium-sized enterprises (SMEs), which heavily rely on innovative

Nykaa Business Model | How Does Nykaa Make Money?

Are you aware of any lucrative eCommerce platforms from the last ten years? Technically, no. As they were either bought, as Walmart did with Flipkart, or they were categorized as Infibeam. However, none of them succeeded on their own. In the last decade, over 20 online stores have attempted their

National Geographic Education Blog

Bring the spirit of exploration to your classroom.

What’s Up with KitKat in Japan?

Japan is a KitKat-lover’s paradise, with so many unique varieties—an estimated 300—that some travelers visit Japan just to try them. (Los Angeles Times)

How is KitKat a case study in globalization?

Teachers, scroll down for a quick list of key resources in our Teachers Toolkit.

Discussion Ideas

• KitKat, owned by the Swiss company Nestle and licensed by Hershey in the United States, started as a British candy bar, Rowntree’s Chocolate Crisp . The basic recipe has remained unchanged since the 1930s: two to three layers of cookie wafers covered by chocolate.
• The candy bar was developed as “ the perfect complement to a working man’s cup of tea. ”
• KitKat came to Japan in 1973. It was originally marketed as an alternative to rice cakes, the regular snack in tourist shops in Hokkaido, Japan’s northernmost major island. Find Hokkaido on our 1-page map of Japan.
• strawberry (the original, Hokkaido-associated version)
• blueberry cheesecake
• “European cheese”
• cafe au lait
• maple syrup
• vegetable juice
• gold-foil “Kobe pudding”
• packaging. Marketers altered KitKat’s traditional dark-red packaging with an array of bold, bright colors —a marketing scheme familiar to Japanese consumers. ( Even art depicting excrement is adorably pastel. )
• innovation. Japanese business culture has a global reputation for innovation. Today, KitKat Japan introduces 20 new flavors every year.
• communication. Japan is an industry leader in communications technology, and Japanese citizens are among the most technologically savvy in the world. News about new or limited-edition flavors can spread quickly and “go viral”, creating a curious market.
• travel. Many flavors are associated with specific regions of Japan. The popular flavor momiji manju (a pastry made of rice and buckwheat), for instance, is considered “soul food” in the city of Hiroshima .
• pop culture. Japan’s production of wildly flavored KitKats has become part of the country’s identity. It’s an accessible symbol of Japan’s internationally recognized popular culture.
• economy. Nestle Japan is a thriving business, an important part of the Nestle family of food and beverage brands . In addition, the flavored KitKat bars are popular among domestic and international tourists—the original market for the Hokkaido KitKats all those years ago.
• It complements an existing culture . Giving sweets as gifts is a national custom in Japan.
• It recognizes national pride. Japan “has deep pride in its local culinary traditions and industries,” which are reflected in the many flavors.
• It’s a play on the Japanese language. “Not least, the chocolate bar’s English name is a cognate—it sounds like kitto kattsu , which means ‘you will surely win,’  a sort of good luck blessing.”
• It’s made some smart partnerships. “ In 2009, the company created ‘KitKat Mail,’ a partnership with Japan’s postal service that allowed students to send KitKats as good luck charms before the country’s high-pressure January university entrance examination. Some KitKat wrappers contain blank spaces for students to scribble in heartwarming messages … In March 2011, after an earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disaster devastated a swath of Japan’s Pacific coast, people sent KitKats to the region , appending the message: kitto fukkyu kanau , or, ‘you’ll surely recover.’ … Nestle Japan threw its support behind the damaged Sanriku Railway — it released a special line of KitKats and donated some of the proceeds to reconstruction. It decorated two rail cars and in 2014, to celebrate the rail’s return to full operations, allowed riders to use some limited edition KitKats as tickets.”

TEACHERS TOOLKIT

Los Angeles Times: How the humble KitKat conquered Japan with ever-changing flavors. Anyone for sushi KitKat?

Nat Geo: What is globalization?

Wikipedia: Kit Kats in Japan: Varieties

Share this:

• Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)
• Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)
• Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)
• Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)
• Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)
• Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)
• Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)
• Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)
• Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window)
• Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)

2 thoughts on “ What’s Up with KitKat in Japan? ”

• Pingback: Tuesday Chat Preview: Japan, North Korea, and South Korea – worldgeochat

Inquiry: How has the true story of the production of chocolate been hidden from consumers? How might knowing the true story of chocolate impact sales?

These inquiry questions could be add to get a more complete analysis.

Leave a Reply Cancel reply

Discover more from national geographic education blog.

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Type your email…

Continue reading

How KITKAT encouraged the gaming community to take a break on Twitch

When KITKAT debuted their chocolate-covered wafer bar in 1935, it was an instant hit. “Have a break. Have a KITKAT,” now a world-famous tagline, launched in 1957, and a year later, the confection appeared in its first-ever TV ad. Fast forward to 2022, and the always innovating KITKAT approached Amazon Ads looking to reach new audiences in new ways. KITKAT was facing a common challenge plaguing many brands right now: How could they reach adult Gen Z and millennial shoppers ? The team wanted to explore how they could position the heritage chocolate bar in the best way to appeal to this digitally savvy audience. The KITKAT team knew that this audience loves gaming, so they approached Amazon Ads to find the best solution.

Plugging in with gaming audiences

Twitch came to mind as a great place to reach communities of gaming fans. Whether it’s running from zombies, playing in e-sports tournaments, or taking lessons from a chess grand master, 8 million unique content creators go live on Twitch every month to share these experiences with their audiences. As the ultimate livestreaming destination, Twitch offers a place for brands, audiences, and content creators to connect in real time, making it the perfect home for the KITKAT campaign. The Amazon Ads team put forward Twitch premium video as an advertising solution as it aligned perfectly with KITKAT’s challenge of building brand awareness and affinity within the gaming community. The Twitch premium video ads enabled brands to connect with Twitch’s hyper-engaged community by incorporating advertisements into live broadcasts across desktop, mobile, tablet, and connected TV devices.

Introducing “tilt mode”

A common feeling that gamers experience around the world, known as going on “tilt mode,” influenced the concept for the campaign. This is a term often used to describe a state of emotional frustration or anger that can affect a gamer’s performance. From making mistakes in a game to losing the game entirely, there are a number of reasons why a gamer might “go on tilt.” A recent study from the University of California 1 , which explored the behaviors of e-sports players, showed that the most common response once tilt mode is triggered was to take a break from playing. This provided the perfect opportunity for a brand like KITKAT to engage with gaming audiences. The resulting campaign featured a video ad about a frustrated gamer who was making mistakes in their marathon gaming session. The accompanying tagline reads: “Even the biggest champ needs a break.” The gamer pauses their game, takes a well-deserved rest to eat a KITKAT, and then presses play, energized to continue.

KITKAT and Twitch wanted to remind everyone: "Even the biggest champ needs a break"

Winning results for KITKAT

The partnership with Amazon Ads unlocked new opportunities for KITKAT to reach the right audiences at the right moment. The content of the campaign carefully aligned with the feelings and emotions of its audience, one of the main reasons why the campaign was so successful. “KITKAT’s new brand strategy for The Netherlands revolves around realizing impact in different aspects of youth culture,” says Aniek Gaveel, brand manager at KITKAT The Netherlands. “The gaming community was identified as one of the most important. Twitch proved that it is able to significantly drive brand growth on our most important [ key performance indicators ] in this hard-to-reach community.” One of the ways that Amazon Ads measured the campaign’s success was by setting up a Twitch research power group made up of over 600 Twitch users based in The Netherlands. Half of the group were exposed to the ad, and the other half was not, so that comparisons could be accurately measured. Among the Twitch users that had seen the ad, 9 out of 10 respondents said they were aware of the KITKAT message. 2 The campaign was able to raise unaided brand awareness by 52%, which surpassed the average benchmark of unaided brand awareness across similar campaigns by 3x. Having seen the ad, audiences were also more than 2x more likely to associate KITKAT with gaming. 3 Twitch viewers who watched the ad were also twice as likely to attribute the KITKAT message, “Even the biggest champ needs a break,” to the right brand, compared to the average benchmark across similar campaigns.

*Results in this case study are representative of a single advertiser/campaign and are not indicative of future performance.

1 Association for Computing Machinery , US, 2021 2-3 Twitch and Amazon Ads internal data, June 2022

Nestlé’s KitKat Diplomacy: Neutrality vs. Shared Value

Brian Kenny:

On September 13, in the year 1515, a bloody battle ensued on the outskirts of Milan, the implications of which are still with us today. The Battle of Marignano, where French troops came to the aid of Italy to dispel Swiss invaders, dragged on for a grueling 16 hours of hand-to-hand combat. Some 20,000 lives were lost, including 10,000 Swiss, leaving the old Swiss Confederacy with little choice but to abandon their aggressive colonization efforts. Surrounded on all sides by countries with greater military might, the Swiss concluded that their interests would be best served by staying out of wars. Swiss neutrality, which was ratified in the Treaty of Paris in 1815, survived two World Wars and countless regional conflicts.

It seems that the security and economic stability that comes with neutrality is not only good for the people of Switzerland, it's also pretty good for business. Today on Cold Call , we've invited Professor Geoff Jones to discuss the case entitled, “Nestlé, Shared Value and KitKat Diplomacy.” I'm your host Brian Kenny, and you're listening to Cold Call on the HBR Podcast network. Geoff Jones is a historian who researches the evolution, impact, and responsibility of global business. He co-leads the School's Creating Emerging Markets project, and he is a repeat customer on Cold Call . Geoff: did you know, I think you hold the record for being on this show the most times of all HBS faculty? This is your seventh appearance.

Geoffrey Jones:

I've got to get rid of this habit.

We love having you on. I'm a history buff, I mention this every time you're on the show, and I love the way that you're able to draw on history to make current stories come alive, they're still so relevant today. So I think we'll start the way we always do, which is to ask you to tell us a little bit about the central issue in the case and what your cold call is to start this discussion in class?

So this case comes at the end of my long MBA elective course, which tracks cycles of globalization from the 19th century to the present day. So, its purpose is to explore how things are changing right now compared to the historical past. And one of the big changes we can see is a huge growth in societal expectations about how corporations should behave in response to political events, social events, all sorts of events. And nothing illustrates the scale of the change, I think so much that even Switzerland, the country and Nestlé are having to abandon a huge long tradition of neutrality in response to the Russian invasion of Ukraine. Something really has changed. How do I begin that? Well, I want to make sure the students demonstrate the scale of the change. So, I will typically say something like, the case says that for 100 years, Nestlé has made a business out of neutrality. Did this make Nestlé a responsible or an irresponsible company?

And the case really delves into all of that because you could argue it many different ways. That's a great way to start off the class. Now, you write a lot about these kinds of cases. We've had you on before to talk about IBM and Nazi Germany and the role of the United Fruit Company in Latin America, really interesting examples of well-known firms that have faced moments of truth where they had to make a decision about something. And this is in that same vein, I'm wondering how you landed on this idea of writing this case and why it's important to the kinds of things that you think about as a historian?

I think it was the scale of the change for a company that's navigated its way through 100 years of conflicts. The fact that it's doing something now, I think from once you realize the history is quite shocking, so that intrigued me. It intrigued me that they took a decision to divest KitKat, but not to divest pet food. And of course, there's also a strong HBS connection in the concept of shared value. So the multiple things came into my head, which attracted me to write this.

Yeah. And the protagonist in the case, we should say, is also a graduate of the school.

And we'll talk more about that as we go along here. Everybody thinks of Nestlé, I think as a chocolate maker, but they make a lot of products. Can you talk a little bit about their portfolio?

Nestlé is quite simply the largest food and beverage company in the world. So, indeed they have chocolate and Kit Kats, but they have huge baby foods business, bottled water business, coffee business, dairy products business, ice cream business, pet care business. They have an extraordinary number of brands all over the world.

And the founders of the firm are not Swiss in origin. But why did they decide to base the business in Switzerland?

Indeed. Funnily enough, it's the merger of two firms. One firm, the Anglo-Swiss Condensed Milk Company was founded by two American brothers, George and Charles Page, and George Page was the US consul in Switzerland. And the second firm, Nestlé, was founded by a German guy, and they were all attracted... Switzerland has a lot of cows, basically it has a big dairy industry, and that's the way they start. Anglo-Swiss started with making condensed milk. Nestlé started by making milk-based baby food, and they rolled on from there. But dairy was absolutely at the core of their business.

So, access to cows is important, but were there more reasons why they thought Switzerland would be a good place to base their business out of? What are some of the benefits, I guess, that they found from being in this country that uses neutrality as kind of their position?

There were two aspects of Switzerland. One, it was already when they started a very stable country. All the countries around them, Germany or France or something had periodic revolutions, changes of governments, the Swiss had evolved this sort of consensus, decentralized structure, so it was stable. And secondly it was literally neutral. And so a Swiss-based company could claim the benefits of being neutral. And that's something that, particularly as the 20th century rolled on, became more and more and more important because we're going to see huge political disruptions across the century. And being neutral turned into a huge competitive advantage.

It even became sort of a saying. People would say, "I'm playing Switzerland on this one," so people understand that meant you're not taking a side, which as we know, is getting it harder and harder to do these days. So we'll come back to that at some point. I'm wondering, I teased in the beginning about how Switzerland was able to navigate two world wars and maintain their neutrality through that, so did Nestlé. So, how were they able to work their way through the landmines, metaphorically and otherwise, that existed around World War I and World War II?

Well, for better or for worse, they didn't mind what country's government they're operating in. So, they're the only western firm to continue to operate in Japan during World War II. They continue to operate in Nazi Germany, they continue to operate in apartheid era, South Africa. They never criticize the government, they always cooperate with each government, and they say they are neutral and take no political view. And as I said, that was a huge asset. You could say it raises other questions, but it's a huge asset for the business. And when Switzerland claimed to be neutral, they were very serious about it. They don't join United Nations until 2002, which also means Nestlé could operate in all sorts of countries actually sanctioned by the United Nations, but Nestlé could say they're a Swiss firm. So, whatever the United Nation says is it's not their responsibility.

That seems super convenient, doesn't it?

When I've taught this class, some students very strongly articulate that what does really neutrality mean? Often neutrality means you actually taking one side more or less by not criticizing or doing anything else.

So it's a very tricky complex…

And it did catch up with them at one point. The case talks about a boycott of Nestlé's products. I actually remember this happening. Can you talk a little bit about what the circumstances were around the boycott?

Yes. In 1974, an NGO War on Want published a book entitled, “The Baby Killer,” which denounced Nestlé's strategy to sell infant formula in developing countries. Now, the thing about this was the formula was completely safe. No one ever said the formula was dangerous of any kind. The trouble was that Nestlé used extremely aggressive marketing techniques, including dressing sales girls in nurses uniform, giving away samples to persuade often very poor people to use the product rather than breastfeed. And to save money, many mothers often diluted the product because they couldn't afford it in its full amount, and they used often contaminated water, because a key problem in many African countries was lack of clean water. And the upshot was a great many children died in this episode. So it caused a boycott, started in Europe, spread to the United States, stopped and started, and it was enormously damaging to the company's reputation. In fact, people still remember this whole episode. It's a huge stain on its brand.

Okay. And it sort of sets the stage for a shift at Nestlé that the case goes into in great detail, a shift towards shared value. Can you talk a little bit about what that is and why Nestlé started to move in that direction?

Beginning, I think in the early part of this present century, this starting of this skepticism about big business and about capitalism and about the whole concept of the whole purpose of a firm being to maximize shareholder value. So there's a kind of rethink going on in response to that. And there's a rethink at Harvard Business School, and there's a rethink in Nestlé, and they kind of converge around this concept of shared value. The rethink at Harvard Business School was led by Michael Porter, the famous strategy professor, and Mark Kramer, and they start thinking about how foundations can create social value, then they turn to how corporate philanthropy can create value. And finally, they became convinced that the whole concept of CSR needed to be integrated into core business strategy, and that's what they called shared value. Over the same period, Porter and Kramer were working with Nestlé through their consultancy, their nonprofit consultancy, ESG, and these two streams came together. 2006, Nestlé produced a report, Creating Shared Value in Latin America. Mike Porter published a series of HBR articles culminating in one in 2011, explaining this concept.

And they came together at one point, they started to work together, which I found interesting because inevitably in the line of work that we're in at Harvard Business School, we focus on real firms and we have to write about what those firms have gone through, good, bad, or indifferent. So I thought this was an interesting situation where Nestlé became almost a poster child, for lack of a better word, for shared value.

A kind of natural experiment in some ways. And I think both sides were equal in developing these ideas.

So, let's talk a little bit about Mark Schneider, who becomes the protagonist in the case. He is the CEO of Nestlé, and he as a graduate of the school probably pays close attention to the ideas that are coming out of here. So again, it's sort of a natural fit that he would enlist Professors Porter and Kramer in this kind of an engagement. So talk a little bit about how that unfolded and what Schneider's position is, I guess, on shared value as it relates to Nestlé.

Schneider is an interesting guy. He is German, he's not a Swiss. He's the first CEO of Nestlé who hasn't worked his way up the company. He was recruited from outside he managed a German healthcare company before. He's part of this unfolding story where there's more and more questioning of the legitimacy of big business and of capitalism, something Porter talks about explicitly when he justifies the shared value argument. And so you can see Schneider changing his position, I think over time. So after he becomes chief executive, he's clearly aware that societal expectations have grown on how a company behaves towards society, how a company behaves towards the environment so, he embraces the shared value concept, he commits to sharply reducing greenhouse gases emissions, he sits on numerous industry association boards trying to push the cause of sustainability. So it's quite interesting, perhaps how he's changed.

And obviously there's probably some tension in that as well, because whether you believe in shareholder supremacy or not, shareholders want to make money. So, I'm wondering what the board's reaction to Schneider's shared value approach was. Were they fans of it or did they question it, or how did that unfold?

What we do know is that Nestlé was hit by an activist investor, which became the sixth largest shareholder in the company and launched a campaign against the company as being too slow moving and Schneider has to do a very large share buyback to try and calm that situation down. So, they certainly have investors who are not apparently on board with some things that shareholder value approach is going to lead them to do, so Schneider is in a tight situation really, that he clearly feels these expectations to move in that direction. But if you move too far, you get your investors after you and that's a very tricky one.

And we've talked about this a lot on the show over the years, there are many cases that our faculty have written that sort of play out this tension that exists between an expectation that corporations are going to move in a certain direction towards shared value, but at the same time, earnings reports have to be there. And it's a difficult dilemma for any leader to navigate, I think. So, the case starts to move towards a situation where Mark Schneider really does have to make a hard decision, and this has to do with Russia invading Ukraine. Can you talk a little bit about the context there and the decision that Mark was facing?

Well, as we all know, Russia invaded Ukraine and there is this rise in societal expectations that companies have to do something about it, which is kind of a new story. And indeed, they do. And by march of the same year, 400 companies, big ones, Goldman Sachs, Disney, Dell had withdrawn entirely from Russia and Nestlé hadn't. The company does not wish to do anything because it'll be putting aside 100 years of history, but clearly times have changed. In February, miraculously, the Swiss's government decides it will follow EU sanctions. 400 years of neutrality has suddenly been reversed by its own government. And then Nestlé run into an incredibly media savvy Zelenskyy who called it out by name. He keeps talking about Nestlé and so that sets off a giant Twitter storm. Here again, we have something new, social networks now. The voice of protests against companies, it's just magnified thousands, thousands of times.

Yeah. There's no place to hide.

There's literally no place to hide. And with someone like Zelenskyy talking about you to all the world, the company was clearly in a very difficult position. So, they take this decision to withdraw Kit Kat, but to keep most of the rest of their business in Russia.

And how do they justify that?

I think their justification, which you could say is quite reasonable, is that baby foods and medicinal pet foods are essential products and by withdrawing them, you hurt people who are not responsible for the war at all, nor did they want to hurt the 7,000 workers who work for them in Russia. So again, they're between a rock and a hard place really, with pressures to divest, being denounced by the president of Ukraine, and then they feel these other responsibilities in Russia.

We did see examples of other firms at this time, I think McDonald's was one of them that closed down their operations, but in order to not hurt the workers in Russia continued to pay them. So, there were some examples, I think, of firms that said, "We don't want to do harm to innocent people in Russia. No, but we also don't want to justify the Russian government's actions by staying there." Do we know if Nestlé considered any of these kinds of things?

We don't know. We know there are plentiful examples of that, although again, the examples are not necessarily helpful for, so McDonald's pulled out and now a Russian company took over the business and X number of other companies have pulled out, and you simply get a transfer of assets into Russian ownership. So in class, some students said, what's the point? The factory's going to still be there, everything else is going to be still there, and you've just got Russians running it who may be much worse. They may be a friend of the friends of the regime, really. I must say other students argued that it was really important to take a stand, that it was really now a matter of responsibility of firms to take a stand. So, the classrooms saw very contested views about this, which I think reflects the fact that it's a very-

It's incredibly difficult.

... it's an incredibly difficult situation, right?

Yeah. You could argue that they would do more harm by pulling out and that they were being consistent with their shared value stance by keeping some operations there, like you said for medicinal products or things that people saw as essential. What has the public's view been on Nestlé's actions?

It depends what part of the public you ask, I think. I know in Switzerland there's a lot of skepticism. I think this case shows a long tradition of skepticism in Switzerland about the whole idea of neutrality and Nestlé's role in it. So there's a lot of commentary, why Kit Kat of all things? And it does come over somewhat.

It's a good product. But I mean, you know.

It's somewhat like you've got to do something about the situation, but you don't want to do anything serious. And I do believe that the pet food and the baby food business are more profitable.

Yeah. So, does this case really put the concept of neutrality on the table as something that may not be able to be sustained in a world that is so highly politicized? What do you think?

The concept of neutrality was running into trouble ever since the Cold War ended, because having to choose now what are you neutral between? Forms of extremist terrorism and law and an order, between this and that, it was simple in the old days of Communism versus the West, I think. Now, what are you neutral towards? And it doesn't really make much sense, and I think what we've seen is this folding of neutrality as a concept.

Yeah. And we certainly look at other parts of the world where conflict could happen at any moment and firms like Nestlé are going to have to continue to make these sorts of decisions. It seems like any global firm is going to find themselves in a position to have to make these kinds of difficult choices down the road.

Yes. And that's suddenly one of the criticisms one could level against the shared value concept, which heavily emphasizes the prevalence of win-win solutions. You can be both profitable and do social good if you take the right decisions. But what we've seen in the last few years is a proliferation of crises where there are simply trade-offs and moral dilemmas rather than win-win situations. And Ukraine is a typical story. I mean, the Ukrainian workers of Nestlé want the company to withdraw from Russia. Russian workers need a job, Russian consumers need products. Social networks are pressuring them to do one thing rather than another. I can't see any possibility of a win-win, you're forced to make decisions to face these moral dilemmas and trade-offs. And I don't think big business at the moment really has the tools to make those decisions. And particularly, they have to make decisions when many of them are involved in matters of geopolitics and which their leaders are not trained. And when you've got activist investors floating around, watching over any decision they do make, and you've got your profile under constant scrutiny by unknown people on social networks, it's a very difficult operating environment at the moment, unfortunately.

Geoff, this has been a great conversation as usual. Let's just bring it to a close by, if I could ask you if there's one thing you want people to remember about the Nestlé case, what is it?

I think as I began by saying that what we've seen in the recent years is historically very unusual, a huge rise in civil society demanding that corporations take a stand on issues. These trade-offs and moral dilemmas are extremely challenging and I think we've all got to work on developing tools, I think almost, to help managements steer through this terrible period.

Yeah. Jeff, thank you for joining me yet again on Cold Call .

My pleasure.

We hope to have you back soon.

If you enjoy Cold Call , you might like our other podcasts, After Hours , Climate Rising , Deep Purpose , Idea Cast , Managing the Future of Work , Skydeck , and Women at Work . Find them on Apple, Spotify, or wherever you listen. And if you could take a minute to rate and review us, we'd be grateful. If you have any suggestions or just want to say hello, we want to hear from you. Email us at [email protected] . Thanks again for joining us. I'm your host, Brian Kenny, and you've been listening to Cold Call , an official podcast of Harvard Business School and part of the HBR podcast network.

  Read more

  Close

• 15 May 2024
• Research & Ideas

A Major Roadblock for Autonomous Cars: Motorists Believe They Drive Better

• 09 May 2024

Called Back to the Office? How You Benefit from Ideas You Didn't Know You Were Missing

• 06 May 2024

The Critical Minutes After a Virtual Meeting That Can Build Up or Tear Down Teams

• 24 Jan 2024

Why Boeing’s Problems with the 737 MAX Began More Than 25 Years Ago

• 13 May 2024

Picture This: Why Online Image Searches Drive Purchases

• Corporate Social Responsibility and Impact
• Business History
• Business and Government Relations
• Corporate Governance
• Consumer Products

Sign up for our weekly newsletter

• Rewarded Video
• Interactive Advertising
• Starcade Studios
• Ad Performance Measurement

• Gaming Audience
• Gaming Research
• Case Studies

Advertise With Us

Good stuff coming your way, fill out the form below to download the content..

Step 1 of 2

Let's start with the basics...

Step 2 of 2

Now, Tell us who you are...

By clicking “Submit,” you consent to allow Activision Blizzard Media to store and process the personal information submitted above in order to provide you the content and/or service(s) requested.

Activision Blizzard Media is committed to protecting and respecting your privacy. From time to time, we would like to contact you about our products and services,  as well as other content that may be of interest to you. If you consent to us contacting you for this purpose, please tick the agreement to receive communications from Activision Blizzard Media above.

You may unsubscribe from these communications at any time. For more information on how to unsubscribe, our privacy practices, and how we are committed to protecting and respecting your privacy, please review our Privacy Policy.

ENJOY YOUR CONTENT

The file you were requesting should have downloaded automatically if it did not please click below.

Download Now

Tapping Brand Awareness

All Case Studies

The Opportunity

KitKat® UK partnered with Activision Blizzard Media to measure the brand impact of video ad exposure on its mobile ad platform and test the efficacy of custom branded creative and orientation.

The Success

The campaign was highly successful, driving significant lifts in all key brand metrics.

"We are thrilled to learn that custom, vertical ad creative garners unparalleled success in driving key brand metrics on the Activision Blizzard Media mobile ad platform.”

Ellie Worley

Senior Brand Manager, KitKat®

Advertise With Us Let's Start By Getting Connected

Game Theory

Subscribe to our core insights and news

Terms and Conditions Privacy Policy

Thanks for Signing up

Keep an eye on your inbox for future gaming insights.

Success Stories

Learn about how we’ve helped some of our clients find success.

Lifter Gloss Candy Drop: 100,000 Daily Visitors and Millions of Plays

Maybelline partnered with Activision Blizzard Media to launch an innovative activation for its Lifter Gloss.

View Case Study

40,000 Prada Samples Requested in Less Than a Day

Prada Candy partnered with Candy Crush Saga to launch a playable brand integration. This sweet team up led to powerful results.

Level up your brand awareness with high performance advertising.

With decades of experience and a legendary portfolio that includes iconic game franchises like Candy Crush™, Call of Duty®, World of Warcraft® and StarCraft®, we make it possible for brands to engage with hundreds of millions of active users all around the world.

For media inquiries, contact [email protected]

Now, Tell us who you are and what you're interested in...

Your message has been sent.

WE’LL BE IN TOUCH!

Thanks for reaching out. Please check your inbox for important information on our next steps.

• United States

Selected region: United States

Close Menu +

• Deutschland
• Ad Solutions

All trademarks referenced herein are the properties of their respective owners. © 2022 Blizzard Entertainment, Inc. © 2022 Activision Publishing, Inc. © 2022 King.com Ltd.

• Privacy Policy
• Terms of Use
• Brand Safety
• Cookie Settings
• Do Not Sell or Share My Personal Information

The Software License and Service Agreement will be updated. Please follow this link [ https://www.activision.com/legal/ap-eula ] in order to see these changes.

• Privacy Policy

Case Study Analysis of Kitkat in Japan

What is nestle japan’s biggest challenge regarding kitkat in japan.

What Are Some of The Key Strengths of Kit Kat In Japan? Explain How And Why These Are Important For Creating a Sustainable Brand.

The fact that Nestle Company has a huge experience in the manufacture of the products considered to be highly qualified. The experience is a positioning strategy that the KitKat brand has exploited in Japan to become the most preferred chocolate products within a short period. In this way, the competitive advantage that the KitKat has in the Japan market proves to be an indisputable strength of growth. The other strength of KitKat brand is the fact that the product has a high market share and this proves to be the pillar to its successful branding (Grönroos and Gummerus 2014, p.206). The KitKat brand is one if the product lines that Nestle Company has managed to renovate and to take over as the leader in sales within the Japanese market. Apparently, using the branding ability and the recognition of the local preferences of the customers are the strengths that Nestle Japan can employ in leveraging its growth plans.

The fact that the KitKat brand has been accepted successfully in the Japanese market, it is significant that the company should consider the expansion of its product lines to other nations. Nestle Company has a great experience in many countries all over the world. A close examination of the experience indicates that the company can use the knowledge regarding the local preferences of the people of every country they have ventured into already to introduce the KitKat brand (Urde, Baumgarth, and Merrilees 2013, p. 13). For instance, the KitKat chocolates would be welcome by the American consumers. The justification in this evaluation is that the young adults in the Japanese market have a high affinity for chocolate products. Owing to the fact, Nestle Company in Japan understands that marketing earns the corporation huge profits and a large customer base; the use of its current efficiency in nutrition; health as well as wellness, the company’s entry into the new markets for purposes of growth will be smooth.

The Nature of the Marketing Environment

Primarily, KitKat brand is one of the brands that explain the success that Nestle Corporation in Japan has achieved because of the favorable nature of the marketing environment. Marketing a brand in Japan requires that the strategies applicable be consistent with the culture of the Japanese. KitKat brand embraces the use of color in packaging. In Japanese culture, color is a significant aspect, and since the KitKat brand packages its brand colorfully, the brand is noticeable easily. One other aspect of marketing is the meeting of health standards set by the Japan Food and Drug Administration. The reputation that Nestle Company has gained over the years through high nutritious, healthy and safe products assures the Japanese customers of quality products, in this case, the KitKat chocolate brand.

For the Nestle Japan to remain competitive in the market, it would be recommended that the corporation should adopt the strategy of delivering ordered nestle products, KitKat chocolate in the offices so that they can establish a long relationship with consumers that have no opportunity to go and make purchases during working hours. The strategy is based on the consumer-centric approach to marketing and increasing sales. Apart from using the customer-centric approach, the company can give back to the society by engaging in corporate social responsibility.

To create a strong customer base at the workplaces, the company can fund training and development projects in different organizations and institutions (Urde, Baumgarth, and Merrilees 2013, p. 15). The training and development programs will help the institutions and organizations that benefit to develop a continuous relationship with Nestle Company in Japan. Thus, continued sales and high reputation of its KitKat brand. Using its reputation, the company can usher in a new frontier for KitKat since the customers at workplaces and those of work will evaluate the quality from the experiences with Nestle Company’s products. In fact, the KitKat product will attract, and customers will develop prevalence for it than other chocolate brands from other companies.

What Type of Product Is The Kit Kat (In Japan) Positioned As And Explain Its Value Proposition?

KitKat Product is positioned as a convenience product in the Japanese market. Much as it is considered a luxury product, it has nutritional value, which the customers depend on to stay healthy. The justification for this is noted in frequency with which the consumers make purchases. Apparently, the prices of the KitKat chocolate is low regarding pricing, requires low involvement (Osterwalder, Pigneur, Bernarda and Smith 2014, p. 37). In this way, the Nestle Company has made it a widely available in the Japanese market.

The value proposition attached to the KitKat brand is the fact that the chocolate is a notorious and a component that contributes to a healthy heart. Primarily, the nutrients of the KitKat chocolate increase the brain activity and prevent cancer. In this way, many people in the Japanese market purchase the product. Apart from the nutritious value, people like being happy and joyful. For this reason, eating chocolate, especially the KitKat brand is perceived to be the source of feelings of happiness. Consumers usually record high level of happiness when they eat the KitKat Chocolate product.

How Should the Marketing Team At Nestle Japan Approach Their Marketing Efforts?

The customers prove to be the most significant stakeholders in organizations. Since the products manufactured are meant for the customers, it is imperative always to seek the preferences of the customers. Similar to Nestle Company in the Japanese market that specializes in KitKat chocolate, the customers’ needs can be used as a way of increasing the value of this product. While delivering the products to the customers, Nestle Japan can include incentives such as shopping vouchers and other rewards to the customers such as learning tools for children (Grönroos and Gummerus 2014, p. 208). In this way, the company can increase its customer base without increasing the prices since the customers will be delighted as they will expect more surprises. Additionally, it should be acknowledged that this marketing strategy of giving offers and rewards for purchasing the KitKat product should be season sensitive: festival and school-going periods.

Reference List;

• Grönroos, C. and Gummerus, J., (2014). The service revolution and its marketing implications: service logic vs. service-dominant logic.  Managing service quality ,  24 (3), pp.206-229.
• Osterwalder, A., Pigneur, Y., Bernarda, G. and Smith, A., (2014).  Value proposition design: How to create products and services customers want . John Wiley & Sons.
• Urde, M., Baumgarth, C. and Merrilees, B., (2013). Brand orientation and market orientation—From alternatives to synergy.  Journal of Business Research ,  66 (1), pp.13-20.

Related Posts

A case study on sustainable building, suspicious behaviors of malware in android, how epa links with the superfund in new..., nokia case study analysis, importance of public spaces in a neighbourhood of..., community based tourism in uganda and tanzania, mount st. helens hazardous simulations, the contradiction of homosexuality, walmart cross-cultural issues case study analysis, case study on leadership and management, leave a comment cancel reply.

Please enter an answer in digits:

[Case Study] Kitkat - thành công của thương hiệu ngoại gắn với “huyền thoại nội”

Truyền thông luôn gắn liền với sản phẩm thương hiệu.

Nếu bị mê hoặc bởi màu đỏ rực rỡ từ thanh kẹo xốp mềm mịn thì chắc chắn bạn là fan của hãng bánh kẹo nổi tiếng đến từ đất nước mặt trời mọc này. Rất nhiều bạn trẻ Việt Nam ngày nay là tín đồ trung thành của Kitkat, đặc biệt với hai vị chocolate (socola) và vị matcha trà xanh. Để đạt được hiệu quả vang dội như ngày hôm nay, Kitkat hẳn đã xây dựng chỗ đứng vững chắc trong lòng khách hàng nhờ chiến lược marketing hiệu quả. 

Không biết từ bao giờ, Kit Kat lại trở thành một thương hiệu phủ sóng rộng rãi, "cộp mác" Nhật Bản đến thế. Thanh kẹo vuông dài trở thành món ăn vặt yêu thích, được bày bán tại các cửa hàng tạp hóa, nhà ga, thậm chí sân bay, bến tàu...

Theo báo cáo của Nestle, mỗi giây có khoảng 700 thanh KitKat được tiêu thụ trên toàn thế giới, tương đương 22 tỷ thanh được tiêu thụ mỗi năm. Năm 2014, doanh số bán lẻ KitKat tại Nhật đạt 17 tỷ Yên, tương đương 96 triệu Bảng Anh. Trong khoảng 2010-2016, doanh số KitKat tại Nhật đã tăng 50% và hãng mới phải xây thêm nhà máy nhằm đáp ứng nhu cầu ngày một cao từ trong nước cũng như du khách quốc tế.

Kitkat - thương hiệu ngoại nhưng lại cộp mác "Made in Japan"?

Kitkat được xem là biểu tượng, là vua của các loại bánh kẹo Nhật Bản. Song quê hương của Kitkat không phải từ đất nước này mà bắt nguồn từ Anh.

Năm 1935 tại Anh, hãng Rowntree giới thiệu loại bánh mới chuyên dùng cho các buổi tiệc trà chiều. Tuy nhiên phải đến năm 1937 người ta mới đặt tên cho dòng sản phẩm mới này là Kitkat.

Đến năm 1950, loại bánh này bắt đầu được du nhập vào các thị trường khác như Nam phi, Úc, New Zealand, Canada... cùng hơn 100 quốc gia sau đó. Năm 1973, Kitkat lần đầu tiên đặt chân đến Nhật Bản. Tuy nhiên ấn tượng ban đầu của người dân Nhật về sản phẩm bánh kẹo này chưa được thành công lắm. Chỉ đến khi bắt đầu thập niên 1990, Kitkat bỗng trở thành "hiện tượng" khi được chọn làm quà lưu niệm tại đảo Hokkaido. Đây là địa điểm du lịch có nhiều khách du lịch đến tham quan song sản phẩm lưu niệm chủ yếu lại chỉ có bánh gạo. Nhiều khách bày tỏ sự nhàm chán vì chỉ có một sản phẩm độc nhất. Nhận thấy điều này, nhân viên marketing của Kitkat tin rằng dòng bánh xốp mềm này có thể chọn làm quà lưu niệm, mở rộng sản phẩm cũng như hình ảnh cho thương hiệu. Và bất ngờ là loại bánh này được các thực khách rất yêu thích. Vào năm 1988, Kit Kat được tập đoàn bánh kẹo khổng lồ Nestle mua lại.

Những yếu tố giúp Kitkat thành công trên thị trường

Định vị thương hiệu bằng tên gọi lồng thông điệp.

Tên thương hiệu là một trong những yếu tố quan trọng nhất làm nên sự khác biệt thương hiệu. Một cái tên ngắn gọn, dễ nhớ những vẫn ấn tượng sẽ tạo được tiếng vang với hội khách hàng của bạn, phù hợp với tất cả các thị trường khác nhau mà bạn dự định tiếp cận.

Một sự trùng hợp có thể coi là may mắn của Nestle vì Kitkat trong tiếng Nhật phát âm gần giống với “ kitto katsu ” có nghĩa là “ chắc chắn thành công ”. Hãng đã không bỏ qua cơ hội này mà thay vào đó đẩy mạnh một loạt chiến dịch liên quan tới ý nghĩa của cái tên Kitkat.

Vào thời điểm các sĩ tử đang ôn thi Đại học, Kitkat từng tung chiêu Kitkat mail gửi bưu kiện với tấm thiệp chúc may mắn truyền động lực cho hơn 600.000 thí sinh trên cả nước. Trong phương ngữ Nhật Bản, “Kitkat” phát âm gần giống từ “KITTO KATSU TO” nghĩa là “Bạn có thể làm được!”. Lời cổ vũ ấm áp ghi trên mỗi thanh kẹo khiến bất cứ vị khách nào cũng thấy được quan tâm. Đặc biệt là trong một thời điểm nhạy cảm như thế này, khi phụ huynh đi đâu cũng lầm rầm cầu may cho con em, còn các sĩ tử thì miệt mài lo lắng ôn bài. Còn gì hơn là một lời động viên đúng lúc “Bạn có thể làm được!”.

Hay như một chiến dịch khác vào tháng 3 năm 2011, Kitkat đã phát động chiến dịch giúp người dân gửi những bưu phẩm chứa KitKat tới những vùng thiệt hại sóng thần nặng kèm lời chúc “kitto fukkyu kanau” (Bạn chắc chắn sẽ hồi phục).

Loạt động thái của Kitkat trước mỗi sự kiện lớn không chỉ làm tăng doanh thu công ty mà còn giúp nâng cao hình ảnh, định vị thương hiệu trong mắt công chúng. Giờ đây Kitkat luôn được xem là món ăn may mắn của người dân Nhật trước mỗi thời khắc quan trọng.

Sản phẩm gắn bản sắc dân tộc, lấy truyền thống ẩm thực làm gốc

Một trong những lý do khiến Kitkat trở thành biểu tượng của xứ sở mặt trời mọc là bởi nó gắn liền với bản sắc dân tộc, truyền thống ấm thực của Nhật. Mặc dù có nguồn gốc từ nước ngoài song Kitkat vẫn khiến người dân tự hào bởi chúng đại diện cho một nền văn hóa, ẩm thực Nhật Bản.

Xuất phát từ hương vị dâu tây truyền thống tại thị trường Hokkaido, Kitkat nhận ra rằng người dân Nhật rất ưa chuộng sự đa dạng trong hương vị cũng như tôn trọng nét văn hóa truyền thống dân tộc. Đây là lý do từ sau năm 2000, Kitkat tự mình lên kế hoạch "bản địa hóa" sản phẩm nhằm khai thác đặc trưng từng vùng miền.

Năm 2003, KitKat ra hương vị dưa hấu vùng Yubari-Hokkaido để quảng bá cho văn hóa địa phương. Năm 2016, Nestle cho ra đời KitKat Itoh Kyuemon Uji Matcha để tưởng nhớ nhà sáng lập thương hiệu trà Uji tại Kyoto năm 1832.

Ngoài ra còn có vị wasabi ở Shizuoka, đậu đỏ ở Kanto, lá đỏ tại Hiroshima, khoai tây tím và matcha tại Okinawa, sake, hoa anh đào, cola, thậm chí là cả xì dầu, kẹo ngậm ho và nước tăng lực,…Tính đến nay Nhật Bản đã có trên 300 hương vị Kitkat khác nhau, đây quả là một con số khổng lồ cho thấy sự đa dạng về hương vị cũng như là tầm ảnh hưởng của thương hiệu trên khắp đất nước Nhật Bản.

Chiến lược Marketing của Nestle rất thành công về mặt truyền thông truyền tải thông điệp đến khách hàng của mình. Đây là toan tính của Nestle khi  quảng cáo  từng sản phẩm riêng lẻ một, có thể khiến khách hàng nhớ về từng dòng sản phẩm của mình có mặt trên thị trường. Hãy nhớ về Nescafe xuất hiện trên thị trường họ đã mang đến giai điệu Nescafe bằng quảng cáo “đậm vị”, cùng với đó là cốc cafe màu đỏ trên tay với mùi hương lúc nào cũng khiến người dùng nhớ mãi. Chính bởi yếu tố truyền thông gắn với từng sản phẩm riêng lẻ này đã khiến độ nhận diện của Nescafe ở mức cực lớn, ngay tại Việt Nam, mặc dù phải “đấu tranh” với rất nhiều đối thủ nội địa, nhưng Nescafe vẫn có thị phần khá ngon nghẻ với chiến lược truyền thông đúng đắn.

Với Kitkat, đây là sản phẩm đáng nhớ khi Kitkat có mặt tại hàng loạt cửa hàng tiện lợi của Việt Nam. Bước chân vào bất cứ shop nào, khách hàng chẳng cần phải "căng mắt" tìm kiếm bởi có một sự thật là bao bì đỏ rực của Kitkat đã chiếm sóng hết tầm nhìn. Điều này làm cho nó khá ấn tượng và in sâu vào tâm trí khách hàng, đặc biệt là trẻ nhỏ bởi chúng luôn bị thu hút bởi những thanh kẹo sặc sỡ, nhiều màu sắc. Đây chính là nhờ vào  chiến lược Marketing của Nestle đánh vào quảng cáo dựa vào yếu tố thương hiệu sản phẩm. Sự hiện diện mạnh mẽ của Kitkat ở cấp độ rất cao đã khiến họ đẩy mạnh doanh thu và khuyến mãi. Nestle sử dụng tất cả các phương tiện truyền thông như TV, in ấn, quảng cáo trực tuyến…

Với đội ngũ phát triển sản phẩm sáng tạo như Kitkat thì việc một thương hiệu ngoại nắm vị trí "thống lĩnh" thị trường nội địa không phải điều quá khó. Nhờ khéo léo cài cắm văn hóa truyền thống đất nước, luôn đổi mới mình mà Kitkat luôn khiến khách hàng không bao giờ cảm thấy "nhàm chán".

Hải Yến - MarketingAI

Chia sẻ bài viết

Bình luận của bạn

Bạn cần đăng nhập để thực hiện chức năng này!

Bình luận không đăng nhập

Bạn không thể gửi bình luận liên tục. Xin hãy đợi 60 giây nữa.