This packaging worries me. How can it possibly be both new and original at the same time?
A song can be new and original. A book. A movie.
But how the [expletive deleted] can a packet lasagne be new and original at the same time? It’s a lasagne, for [expletive deleted]’s sake. In a [expletive deleted] cardboard box.
I can just imagine how this came about. The marketing types would have put the word “original” on the packet because it conjures up feelings of stability and homeliness. A timeless quality. Tradition. This is authentic home cooking, like Mamma used to make.
You can trust this lasagne. He’s a good boy, from a nice family.
Then they decided to add “new” into the mix. “New” says fresh and exciting, innovative, cutting edge. “New” hints at a taste experience you haven’t had before. It’s racy, a bit daring, it’s fifty shades of oregano.
But you can’t be new and original at the same time. I’m sorry, but you just can’t. It’s one or the other.
It’s the same trick that politicians use. They don’t try to argue with rhetoric any more. Instead they talk almost exclusively in sound bites – single words or phrases which conjure up an emotion. But when you try to decode those sound bites you find that they make no sense.
Like something being new and original at the same time.
Of course, the other mystery with Dolmio is where exactly does it come from. The name may sound Italian, but it’s an Australian company and all it says on the packet is that it is made in the EU.
And how many calories in a portion of Dolmio new and original Lasagne kit? The packet says 238 calories per portion which doesn’t sound too bad.
Until you read the footnote which says: “a portion includes the sauces and pasta but not the full meal with meat.”
Huh? Without the meat, a lasagne is just béchamel sauce and pasta. Who the [expletive deleted] is going to eat that?
That little bit of misdirection may be the only new and original thing going on here.