Batchelors Super Noodles

Noodle flavour: Chicken. In the novel Nausea, by Jean-Paul Sartre, a character becomes terrifyingly  aware of his liberty when he gazes at a chestnut tree and realises that to describe every single shade and hue of the root entering the ground would take an eternity. How can words have meaning when there is so much to describe on a simple tree? The bark, with its black blight, a 'seething, writhing black' curled around his mind and leads to an existential breakdown for poor Roquentin.  

Well, that wouldn't have happened with chicken, would it?

If he was, say, drinking a chicken flavoured Cup-a-Soup instead of looking at a chestnut tree, he'd have thought: "There's white meat, dark meat and chicken flavour, which this is a perfect example of. It tastes like chicken flavour. A bit green, mildly parsley, a bit chicken-y and salty. Le bosh, another Gitanes for me and I'm getting on with my day."

Country of origin: Britain. They are owned by Premier Foods, who also own Mr Kipling, Smash, Atora, Angel Delight, Lyons and Birds. Rumours are they are bringing in Mrs Beeton as a consultant to help make their range more up to date.

Cooking instructions: "Add 300ml of water and cook for four minute or until water is absorbed." Now, if I had cooked until the water was absorbed, I would still be cooking now, a day later.  These noodles, like anyone with ears in 1994, simply could not cope with that much wet, wet, wet.

There's also microwave instructions, which are "cook on high for six minutes until water is absorbed". See above.

Flavour packets: One. And what a flavour packet it is. It's a strong design. Simple. Has words stamped on it. You would not mess with this flavour packet. It's easily the best thing about these noodles.

Overall: The last thing I want is to be thought of as a food snob, some kind of pretentious idiot. But, so well, Proust had his madeleines, I get it. Some people will inhale that chicken flavouring and be transported back to to their childhoods. "Yes," they'll think, lost in a world of white dog poo, Spagna and shoulder pads*. "This is a high quality product."

And they'll be wrong. These noodles are mushier than a Richard Curtis film about a cockney face starting a dog sled. They're so pappy, they taste healthy, which of course they're not.  The soup is flavoured like they've tipped the dust from the bottom of a bag of chicken crisps into some water, only not quite as nice as that sounds. They're like Olly Murs singing 'Ain't No Love In The Heart of The City', in that even though they're trying their hardest they just couldn't be more Bland. Oh, and also just the thought of them is a bit depressing.

So, call me a pretentious fool, but may not an ass know when the cart draws the horse? There are much better noodles in supermarkets that are cheaper than super noodles. Am I supposed to, make like an undercover cab driver and suppress this knowledge**? I can't. I'm sorry. There are better noodles out there. Be like someone who has finished a rip off of a Jack Reacher novel and put away childish things. You don't need these.

If these noodles were a crime novel, they'd be: A novelisation of Bergerac, maybe. I always get to this category and realise that I really should be doing something else.

Noodle rating: 1/5

* Do you remember when Stuart Maconie did all that remembering? Good times.

** Recently Marina O'Loughlin caused a furore by "sneering" at Wetherspoons because their food was not good. There were articles written about it.  I didn't understand them. She wasn't saying the food was bad because it was cheap, she was saying it was bad. People, unlike readers of this blog, read what they want.