Why Butter Chicken Is the Real MVP of Experiential Marketing
Let me take you to the Auckland Diwali Festival, 2024. Not the main stage, not the Bollywood dance-off. I’m talking about a tent wedged between a crafts stall and a man selling phone cases. It wasn’t much to look at, but the smell—dear god. Spices, tomato, fenugreek—it practically flirted with my nostrils. And there, amid the swirling incense and chaos, was quite possibly the smartest piece of marketing I’ve seen in five years.
Nestlé had set up a faux ‘Aunty’s Kitchen’, serving free samples of a branded butter chicken cooking sauce. Big deal? Hang on. They weren’t just handing food out. They had two real former Indian aunties (yes, legit ex-chefs from a Mt Roskill tandoori joint) explaining how the sauce didn’t compromise on authenticity, what spice levels meant for different regions of India, and why store-bought isn't a swear word. By the time I’d walked away with my mini naan wrap, I’d also signed up for their recipe newsletter. Me, a grown man with one wok and a fear of measuring spoons.
This wasn’t a billboard, or a viral social post. It was a moment. And it was engineered to feel like anything but. The genius was how unbranded it felt. No QR codes screaming at you. No focus-grouped slogans. Just hot, aromatic persuasion served in a bamboo paper boat. The lesson? When we talk about experiential marketing, it doesn’t have to mean fireworks and VR goggles. Sometimes it’s spice, local context, and genuine human connection that leave the real aftertaste.
Look, there’s a time and a place for slick activations. But if you want to live rent-free in someone’s head, you might want to show up as a helpful aunty with coriander in your hand, instead of a neon sign.
Nestlé had set up a faux ‘Aunty’s Kitchen’, serving free samples of a branded butter chicken cooking sauce. Big deal? Hang on. They weren’t just handing food out. They had two real former Indian aunties (yes, legit ex-chefs from a Mt Roskill tandoori joint) explaining how the sauce didn’t compromise on authenticity, what spice levels meant for different regions of India, and why store-bought isn't a swear word. By the time I’d walked away with my mini naan wrap, I’d also signed up for their recipe newsletter. Me, a grown man with one wok and a fear of measuring spoons.
This wasn’t a billboard, or a viral social post. It was a moment. And it was engineered to feel like anything but. The genius was how unbranded it felt. No QR codes screaming at you. No focus-grouped slogans. Just hot, aromatic persuasion served in a bamboo paper boat. The lesson? When we talk about experiential marketing, it doesn’t have to mean fireworks and VR goggles. Sometimes it’s spice, local context, and genuine human connection that leave the real aftertaste.
Look, there’s a time and a place for slick activations. But if you want to live rent-free in someone’s head, you might want to show up as a helpful aunty with coriander in your hand, instead of a neon sign.