You’re standing in the grocery aisle. Maybe you're reaching for that iconic plastic jar with the white lid, thinking about crepes or just a late-night spoonful over the sink. Then it hits you. You say it out loud to a friend, and they look at you like you’ve grown a second head. "It's Nut-ella," they insist. You've always said "New-tella." This isn't just a debate over breakfast spreads; it’s a global linguistic divide that has sparked actual corporate interventions. Honestly, the way we argue about how to pronounce Nutella says a lot about how we process language, branding, and our own stubbornness.
Most Americans grew up saying "Nuh-tella." It makes sense. It’s made of hazelnuts. "Nut" is right there in the name. Why on earth would it be anything else? But then, Ferrero—the Italian powerhouse behind the spread—dropped a bombshell on their FAQ page a few years back that sent the internet into a tailspin. They suggested the "correct" version starts with a "new" sound.
The Great Nutella Phonetic Divide
Language is messy. It doesn’t always follow the rules of logic, especially when a brand travels from the hills of Piedmont, Italy, to a suburban kitchen in Ohio. Ferrero, the company founded by Pietro Ferrero back in the 1940s, eventually had to step in because the confusion became part of the brand’s identity. On their official website, they’ve previously clarified that the intended pronunciation is "New-tell-uh."
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Wait. Stop.
If you just felt a surge of annoyance, you aren't alone. It feels wrong. If the word is derived from "nut," why would the "u" shift into an "oo" sound? The answer lies in the brand's Italian roots. In Italian, the letter "u" is almost always pronounced as an "oo" sound (like in "duomo" or "luna"). So, to the creators, "Noo-tella" is the only thing that sounds natural.
But here is the kicker: Ferrero isn't actually the pronunciation police. They’ve gone on record saying they don't want to tell people how to speak. They realize that "Nut-ella" is the dominant way it’s said in the UK and the US. They aren't going to pull jars off the shelves just because you used a short "u."
What the Experts Say
Phonologists often look at "lexical adaptation." This is just a fancy way of saying that when a word moves from one language to another, it changes to fit the local mouth-shape. When English speakers see "N-U-T," our brains immediately go to the word for a hard-shelled fruit. We categorize it. We label it.
"New-tella" feels fancy. It feels European.
"Nut-ella" feels like home. It feels like what it is: a spread made of nuts.
Interestingly, in Italy, the emphasis is often slightly different too. It’s not just the vowels; it’s the rhythm. Italians might put a bit more weight on the "tell" part, making it feel more melodic. In the States, we tend to flatten it out. We make it punchy.
Why the "New" vs. "Nut" War Even Exists
The controversy peaked around 2015. People were genuinely upset. It was the "Is the dress blue or gold?" of the condiment world. Ferrero USA eventually had to clarify to various news outlets that they weren't strictly enforcing the "New" version for English speakers. They basically said, "Look, as long as you're eating it, we're happy."
But why did they choose "Nutella" as a name anyway?
Originally, the product was called Supercrema. That’s a bit of a mouthful. In 1964, Michele Ferrero—Pietro’s son—decided he needed something that would appeal to an international market. He took the English word "nut" and added the Italian feminine diminutive suffix "-ella." It was a hybrid from the start. A linguistic chimera. Because the root word "nut" was intentionally chosen to signal the ingredients to an English-speaking audience, the irony is that the "New-tella" pronunciation actually obscures the very root the company wanted people to recognize.
Does it actually matter?
Probably not. But also, absolutely yes.
How we pronounce brands is a marker of "in-group" status. If you go to a high-end bistro and ask for "New-tella" on your waffle, you might feel a bit more sophisticated. If you say "Nut-ella" at a slumber party, nobody bats an eye. It’s a classic case of prescriptive versus descriptive linguistics. Prescriptive is what the "rules" say (the company’s preference). Descriptive is how people actually talk. In the world of SEO and global trends, the descriptive version wins every single time because that’s what people are typing into search bars.
Regional Variations You’ll Hear Traveling
If you’re a globetrotter, you’ll notice the sound shifts at every border.
- In Germany: It often sounds closer to "Noo-tella," sticking closer to the Italian vowel structure.
- In France: They love their Nutella. They say it with a soft "u" that’s hard for English speakers to mimic—almost like "Nuh-tella" but with a French "u" (think tu).
- In the UK: It is almost universally "Nut-ella." If you say "New-tella" in London, expect some side-eye.
The British are particularly protective of their pronunciation. There’s a certain linguistic stubbornness there that rejects the "New" sound as an Americanism, even though the "New" sound is actually closer to the Italian original. It’s a mess of contradictions.
The Viral Moments and PR Blunders
Remember when the Nutella Twitter account (now X) tried to settle it? They posted that it should be "New-tell-uh," and the backlash was so swift they practically had to go into witness protection. People felt betrayed. It’s like being told halfway through your life that your name is actually pronounced differently.
There was also the "personalized jar" campaign. Ferrero allowed people to put their names on the labels. This backfired spectacularly when people started putting "controversial" words on jars, but it also highlighted how personal the brand is. People don't just eat Nutella; they identify with it. And when you tell someone they are saying the name of their favorite childhood snack wrong, you’re attacking a memory.
The Hazelnut Factor
Let’s talk about the ingredient for a second. Hazelnuts.
In parts of the American South, people say "hazel-nut" (short u).
In other places, it’s almost "hazel-nit" or "hazel-nawt" depending on the dialect.
If we can’t even agree on how to say the name of the nut itself, the spread never stood a chance.
The Ferrero family has always been notoriously private. They don't do many interviews. This silence from the top allowed the pronunciation debate to fester for decades before any official word was given. By the time they spoke up, the "Nut-ella" pronunciation was already baked into the culture. You can't undo thirty years of habit with one FAQ page.
How to Actually Say It (The Verdict)
If you want to be "correct" according to the people who sign the paychecks at Ferrero: Say "New-tell-uh."
If you want to be "correct" according to the 90% of people you meet at the grocery store: Say "Nut-ell-uh."
There is no middle ground. You have to pick a side and live with the consequences. Personally? I think "New-tella" sounds like you're trying too hard at a dinner party. "Nut-ella" is honest. It’s a spread made of nuts. Let the "nut" be heard.
Actionable Tips for the Nutella-Obsessed
Stop worrying about the vowels and focus on the experience. Here is how you actually "do" Nutella right, regardless of what comes out of your mouth:
- Check the Oil: If you see a layer of oil at the top, don't drain it. That’s the hazelnut oil. Stir it back in. If you throw it away, the rest of the jar will turn into a brick within a week.
- The Temperature Rule: Never put it in the fridge. Ever. It ruins the spreadability and kills the flavor profile of the cocoa. Keep it in a cool, dark pantry.
- The Authentic Experience: If you want to eat it like an Italian, put it on a piece of crusty sourdough bread, not the super-sweet white bread. The salt and the tang of the sourdough cut through the sugar of the spread.
- Verify the Source: If you’re a real connoisseur, try to find a jar made in Italy (often sold in glass jars) versus the North American version (plastic jars). Some swear the Italian version uses more hazelnuts and less sugar, though the company claims the recipe is consistent globally.
Whether you're a "New" person or a "Nut" person, the reality is that the brand has transcended its name. It’s a category. It’s the "Kleenex" of hazelnut spreads. You can call it whatever you want, as long as there’s a jar in the pantry when the craving hits. Next time someone tries to correct you, just tell them you're using the "regional dialectical variation" and take another bite. That usually shuts them up.
If you really want to dive deep into the world of Ferrero, look into the history of the Gianduja—the Napoleon-era chocolate-hazelnut paste that started it all. It’ll give you a whole new appreciation for why this stuff exists in the first place. You'll find that the history is just as rich as the spread itself. For now, just keep spreading it on whatever you've got in the kitchen and call it what feels right. Life is too short for linguistic gatekeeping.