Ode to Hob Nobs

It's a running joke in the program that I love Hob Nobs. They are a British cookie/biscuit like item that is a great treat to dunk in tea (see photo above). They are coincidentally, high in fiber. I wrote this short piece that I shared among friends who loved it. Hope it gives you a sense of the cookie culture here.

Ode to Hob Nobs
By Lisa “Hob to the Nobbity Nob” Litterio

The explosion of oats and milk chocolate permeated my tongue and elicited an instant “mmmmm” from my mouth. Taking the precious remains of the cookie out of my mouth and dipping in a cup of tea, I marvelled at its endurance: the oat biscuit formation not melted by the heat. It was a cookie, but it was something so much more: a Hob Nob.

Before my RyanAir plane ever landed at Bristol, England, I had never heard of Hob Nobs nor digestive biscuits. I was an unassuming American, partial to the one and only Oreo, America’s cookie of choice, or occasionally a Mrs. Field’s. I was not a cookie fanatic; it was a “sometimes” treat. My first Hob Nob experience was in a tourist and smog filled Service station at Gordano. My friend Yassmeen and I were looking for a quick dinner upon our arrival to England. Grabbing a sandwich that was not riddled with mayo (a true challenge, I can assure you), I looked in the biscuit aisle for a delicious after-dinner treat. A bright blue, circular container caught my eye, with large, white lettering: Hob Nobs. Embracing my hand around the package, I read the details: a wholesome, oat biscuit covered in milk chocolate. Sounded good to me. And the resealable package was an added bonus.

As soon as I returned from the station and opened the resealable package in the solace of our hotel room, I examined the entity thoroughly. Circular, no more than a centimetre high, yet coated with chocolate on the top. It had a grainy, rough texture against my palm. Opening my mouth, I rested the cookie, chocolate side up, on my tongue. My first taste was almost crunchy, quaker-oat like substance, then the milk chocolate hit: pure bliss. As I glanced at the side of the package again and noticed the fiber content advertisement, it seemed the ultimate paradox to me: a healthy dessert. What was this magical delight? And why had I never seen it before in the United States?

Hob Nobs are unique to the UK and surprisingly, a rather recent phenomenon. McVitie's first introduced the brand in 1985. A milk chocolate-covered version was made available in 1987, and the biscuit is currently available in many varieties, including dark chocolate, chocolate orange, and HobNob bars. I am not adventurous when it comes to this treat; I stick with the regular chocolate, although digestives at tea time may tempt. What is a Hob Nob, you may wonder? Digestive, biscuit, cookie, or other? At first, I was confused with the label of “digestive” biscuits. Why not call them colon cookies? Laxatives? Just come out already and say it, chaps! However, I soon learned from personal experience that biscuits aren’t what we think of us biscuits. They are cookies! Only the British refer to cookies as only chocolate chip cookies. Nothing else. Can’t we just have a universal cookie/biscuit system? Why the cultural confusion? Hob Nobs are in a league all their own; not siding with the “cookie” or the “digestive,” but referred to by their brand name, thus rising above the regularity of the savoury biscuit aisle.

Hob Nobs are not only a cookie, but they are also a peacemaker. For the past two weeks, my regular bedder, Jackie, has been on vacation. In her place is Pam, a woman who does not and cannot stop talking. She is not physically threatening; standing at about 5’2” and maybe 150 lbs, with crooked teeth and short, cropped grey hair. Yet, there is not a moment of solace in my room when Pam is around. Opening the door, she begins talking in her thick, British accent, “Hello and how are ya? I was gonna wiggle the key in the door and knock at the same time, but I didn’t know if that would be alright. Let me tell you about the time I had opened a door and a student was in their towel and…….” As Journey would sing, “it goes on and on and on….” I would purposefully avoid Pam during the day by packing a lunch and returning to my room around 3pm, when she would (hopefully) be gone.

Today was her last day, and since it was a Friday with no classes, I felt some remorse for my treatment of her, including the gossip around her back. She was telling me about her weekend plans, including stopping by Elly if I had the chance, when an epiphany hit me: there are a package of Hob Nobs in the kitchen I just bought! Telling Pam to hold on, I ran into our gyp (the British kitchen) to grab the unopened package of Hobnobs. Displaying them like a prized trophy, I handed them to her. “Pam, I got you this, since I knew it would be your last day.” Her eyes became animated with laughter (and even tears?) and her short, stocky arms extended wide to embrace me. “Oh, thank you so much!! Thank you! I love Hob Nobs. This is wonderful!” She continued to talk onward and followed up with some more hugs, while part of me tuned her out.

What was it about Hob Nobs? Sure, they taste amazing, but they almost have a magical force. A softness about them ….I’m not referring to the softness of your waistline after consuming one too many, but the way they somehow bring people together. Despite the cultural gaps and the faux pas, there are Hob Nobs. Standing like a beacon of hope in Sainsbury’s or Tesco, they offer your taste buds temporary moments of sheer delight and permanent satisfaction. I wonder, if Hob Nobs were implemented at diplomatic summits, would there be peace? What would happen if leaders from various nations were served Hob Nobs and tea? Instead of slandering one another’s country or policies, they would debate on whether to eat Hob Nobs chocolate side up or chocolate side down. Maybe it’s too great a leap from the supermarket shelf to world peace. But I’m quite certain, that if there’s one cookie out there that can make that claim, it is the savoury, delightful, and oat-y Hob Nob.