Nutella, a hazelnut-cocoa spread with the consistency of creamy peanut butter, normally comes in a 13-ounce jar the size of your hand and costs about $3.
The mother lode comes in a brown plastic tub about as big as a ham, contains 11.06 pounds of the stuff, and retails for $89.99. (Coronary bypass not included.)
"We didn't know if anyone would want to buy one. It's pretty obscene," says Angelo Colavita, one of Di Bruno's primo cheesemongers. "But it became a challenge to see if we could sell one."
A generous single serving of Nutella, that is, two tablespoons, delivers 200 calories - half of it fat, the rest mostly sugar. The confection dates back to the late 1800s when giandujotti, a hazelnut and cocoa candy, was developed in Turin, Italy.
In the 1940s, when cocoa prices soared, Pietro Ferrero, a pastry maker from Alba, adapted the recipe into a spreadable form. He named it Supercrema. In 1965, it became Nutella, and in the intervening 42 years it has become an international phenom - starring in crepes and on toast but also in songs, an art film, and books including the authoritative Nutella: An Italian Myth, published in 2000 by Rizzoli.
Europeans eat molto Nutella. But even in Italy, which tops the list, the per-capita consumption is about a kilo, which, mean a family of four downs about ten 13-ounce jars a year.
Selling the 11-pounder to restaurants with Nutella dishes on their menu, obviously, was one option for the Di Bruno sales team. But to find individuals and persuade them to go for the mother lode, ah. That would be sweet.
Colavita, 25, sporting '50s glasses and pitch-man attitude, scored the first sale.
It took some doing.
The Nutella (pronounced new-tell-uh) had been in the display window, surrounded by Italian cheeses, for about three weeks.
Taking the high road, Colavita tried manipulating children.
