Avecrem bouillon cube: 582 days of controversy

Avecrem: The bouillon cube nobody knows if it’s poison or salvation

Is Avecrem a harmful product or just a salt concentrate with a bad fruta? This seemingly casual question has sparked a discussion with 155 replies over 582 days, mixing labeling data, comparisons with other products, passionate defenses of traditional flavors, and accusations that the problem isn’t the cube but those who consume it by the spoonful. It started with a blunt statement: “Worse than being a Calbo.” From there, the topic drifted into monosodium glutamate, the price of salt, Nutri-Score, and even the Spanish Civil War.

Labeling as evidence: Salt is the first ingredient

The most repeated argument concerns the order of ingredients on the packaging. Legislation requires listing them from highest to lowest proportion, and in bouillon cubes, salt appears first. “Salt makes up the largest percentage of the cube,” summarizes one participant, adding that in products with many ingredients, percentages are placed at the end so consumers aren’t alarmed. This leads to the main accusation: paying for gold-priced salt. “A cube of salt at gold prices,” another concludes.

The strongest defense in the thread is culinary usage. Several participants recall that Avecrem isn’t a candy eaten directly, but a concentrated preparation meant to be diluted in liters of water. “You need to dilute it in plenty of water,” explains someone who uses it regularly. The calculation is simple: if one cube dissolves in a liter, the salt amount per serving drops to levels many consider reasonable. Comparisons with olive oil’s Nutri-Score—which gets a D for being 100% fat—serve to debunk the logic of nutritional traffic lights.

What does an Avecrem cube really contain?

Monosodium glutamate becomes the conversation’s main villain. “It’s that junk Chinese people put in food,” says a message mixing misinformation and prejudice. In reality, glutamate is a flavor enhancer present in many Asian cuisines and Western products too, and can be bought separately for those wanting to test it without the cube’s extras. Some point out that Gallina Blanca brand cubes include it, while Maggi chicken broth cubes do not. Brand differences become a key argument for attentive consumers.

Another ingredient mentioned is shea butter (karité), which replaces palm oil in some versions. “They don’t have palm oil, but a bit of shea oil, which is healthier,” defends a participant. Sugar and salt are also cited as criticizable components, though with the nuance that the small amounts used shouldn’t pose a problem. The ingredient discussion intersects with distrust of ultra-processed foods and defense of traditional cooking.

Historical origins: From civil war to shopping cart

One highly rated message recalls the product’s historical context. Avecrem was born during the Spanish Civil War as a way to add flavor to poor soup in an era when people ate lime from walls and boiled leather. “It must have been on ration books,” the message speculates. That humble origin contrasts with its current perception as an industrial product and criticism that it has become essential for families who can’t cook without it.

The product’s evolution is reflected in comments. Some remember it was once made with animal bones and cartilage cooked down to gelatin, whereas now it’s based on flours. “You’re a gourmet,” a participant jokes. Nostalgia for old flavors mixes with the realization that the product has changed and homemade alternatives—stocks, broths, sofritos—require time and skills not everyone has.

Homemade alternatives and the taste debate

Against the industrial cube, several messages propose alternatives. A frequent suggestion is using Bovril or Marmite, which provide umami and vitamin B, though they also contain salt. Another is caramelizing onions until dark to add depth to stews. “Cheap version: sauté onion until caramelized,” suggests a participant. Soy sauce also appears as a quick flavor booster without resorting to the cube.

The taste debate causes the most division. Some argue stews without the cube taste like nothing; others defend that a good homemade stock makes it unnecessary. An anecdote about packet soup—“I know someone who dilutes a cube of that crap in water for dinner and calls it soup”—summarizes the polarization. For some, it’s an acceptable shortcut; for others, a sign of culinary laziness. The discussion drifts toward the classic clash between tradition and convenience.

Responsible consumption and the price of salt

Economics also play a role. The idea of paying gold prices for salt contrasts with the product’s practicality: a cube costs cents and yields a liter of broth. “An intelligent person can eliminate visible salt from their diet and still get necessary intake,” argues a participant defending that the problem isn’t the product but excessive use. Comparisons with other processed foods—sauces, ready meals, snacks—leave Avecrem in an intermediate position: not healthy, but not the worst evil either.

Blood pressure emerges as the most cited health argument. “Blood pressure is a heteropatriarchal concept,” jokes a message criticizing the use of two cubes per meal. The general recommendation extracted from the conversation is moderation: use the product as an occasional condiment, not a dietary base. If there’s a conclusion, it’s that Avecrem isn’t poison but isn’t healthy either, and the issue lies in quantity and frequency.

Community verdict: Not so bad, not so good

After 582 days of discussion, consensus remains elusive. Some defend the product as a practical, tasty resource; others see it as a dispensable ultra-processed item; a third group uses it without guilt. Comparisons with Nutri-Score and criticism of nutritional traffic lights help relativize the accusations. Ultimately, the title’s question lacks a unanimous answer: it can’t be that bad after decades in kitchens, but it can’t be that good when salt is its first ingredient.

Final irony comes from those recalling Avecrem is Franco, or asking if the owning family is pro-independence. Forum life.