Krunchers! Sweet Hawaiian Onion Kettle Cooked Potato Chips

           What on Earth - or should I say, “what in the Pacific Ocean”- is a Sweet Hawaiian Onion?  As it turns out the Krunchers brand isn’t inventing a mythical pineapple-flavored onion, but rather is referring to the ‘Maui Onion’- so called because the best ones are grown off the side of a goddamned volcano in Maui called Mount Haleakala, and how much more awesome could something be than that? 

Despite it's volcano-loving
proclivities, the Maui onion can be
grown in a home garden.

That sinister red volcanic soil produces small onions with unusually low amounts of sulfer and high amounts of water- resulting in a vegetable extra juicy and sweet as a mob mistress.  In fact, these exemplary onions are recommended for raw-eating, which makes me want to one up Johny appleseed by munching away on Maui onions and planting them on every field I can find.  (Ok, to be fair, the Georgia-grown Vidalia onion is also similar in taste and consistency.)

According to Hawaian folklore, the demigod Maui's
grandma lives in the crater on Mt. Haleakala, and
one spring day she might yet pour a tide of liquid
hot magma death instead of onions down the
 slopes of her awesomely named home.

 So, has Kruncher’s really made specifically ‘Maui onion’ chips?  Well, unfortunately, I can’t tell for sure.  To their credit, ‘onion powder’ is nearly at the top of the ingredient list, but no details as to whether it’s Hawaiian onion powder (maybe it is, but I certainly can’t tell!), and the rest of the list is all chemicals of one variety or another with the exception of a hint of garlic powder.  The seasoning does taste mildly sweet, and mercifully light on salt (unlike many other otherwise tasty onion-flavored products).  Some might find themselves wanting to ramp up the sweetness or saltiness dial, but the principle shortcoming is unfortunately much more serious.

One of the few flavors I don't
want to taste in my food.

        That relatively mild sweet onion flavor is completely overpowered by the oil that crisps have been cooked in.  These otherwise impressive kettle-cooked chips have been thoroughly soaked in a (non-trans fat) corn oil that reeks of the sort of cooking oil usually poured on a skillet.  While some may feel that the rough oil brings an authentic touch, it may simply be that it is too authentic, and overpowers the flavoring by far.

An excellent image of Krunchers chips
courtesy of realfitmama.  Note that
they don't have visible seasoning.

This is truly tragic, because in most other regards the texture and potato crisps are really first class kick-ass.  The blonde potato rounds are extra thick (up to 2 millimeters!) , twisted and rumpled in beautifully complex shapes, and wonderfully crunchy in an organically uneven sort of way.  As you munch away at them, you can even feel the (too-strong) oils seeping coolly out of the saturated crisps onto the tongue.  (I should note that the nutritional information shows these chips to be no more unhealthy than an average bag of Lay’s potato chips- and these are gluten free!)

            Ultimately, the over-saturation of the cooking oil flavor and the comparative weakness of the seasoning leaves me feeling that these chips didn’t quite carry the day- Maui onion flavor is a neat concept, but the seasoning is too subtle and the cooking oil is as a discrete as She-Hulk before the red moon.  The amazing quality of the potato round does leave me intrigued about trying other Kruncher’s products; perhaps if I swiped some actual Maui onions and mixed them together I'd get the complete experience.

She Hulk making a subtle
entrance.

Stars: 2/4

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- Incredibly thick and crunchy kettle cooked potato rounds impress with their class and texture

- Inoffensive and light sweet onion flavoring is pleasant and avoids the excessive saltiness common in the genre

Cons:

- Super-excessive corn-oil flavoring oversaturates the chips and overpowers the seasonin

- Many will find themselves wishing for a sweet and possibly slightly-saltier onion seasoning

- It’s unclear that the seasoning is really very ‘Hawaiian’

Barcel Takis Nitro Habanaro & Lime Flavored

           It’s my firm belief that anyone biting into the crimson pirouette-cookie look-a-likes known as Takis Nitro will be convinced that their mouth has just been squirted with watermelon bubblegum flavoring.  Or something like it- there’s an undeniable and thoroughly bizarre fruit-aroma that falls short of actual sweetness at the first bite that goes way beyond the typical lemon-lime citrus flavor that is implied on the packaging.

A bowl of Takis.  Note that
the 'Nitro' variant is actually
a darker crimson in color. 

There’s no doubt that Takis Nitro is a very extreme and colorful product, but I’ve actually run into a similar concept in France- basically tortilla chips rolled up like scrolls into tubes resembling pirouette cookies or penne pasta. These actually convey the seasoning effectively and crunch in a most satisfying fashion, and I hope that the idea catches on in the United States. The Takis Nitro variety are also undeniably beautiful, each three-inch corn chip roll thickly covered in eye-pleasing dark crimson seasoning. They couldn’t have looked better if they’d been painted.

            The brilliant colors of the Takis rolls promise the extreme flavor and flaming hot appeal of a red race car or shiny-latex seductress, and the Nitro Takis deliver exactly that: extreme sourness and extreme spiciness, served alongside the completely incongruous and altogether strange fruit flavor.  The snacks will reliably set your mouth aflame like a control panel on the starship Enterprise and expel the snot from your sinuses if you eat more than a few at a time; I mean that in a good way, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.  They are also more sour than a sour patch kid and leave you feeling like you bit into a lime.

The warp drives and phasers are awesome, but
the arcane science behind seat belts appears to
have been lost in Star Trek, and the computer
screens seem to be based on Soviet TV sets.

            And yet, despite being an aficionado of the spicy and the sour, these crisps don’t quite succeed in pleasing.  The weird fruit-aroma is part of the problem, I think, as it creates an expectation of sweetness that the seasoning doesn’t actually deliver.  Chips and salsa/guacamole complement each other well because the saltiness of the chip is combined with the sweetness or sourness of the salsa, but here that sweetness or saltiness is lacking, and the tongue is kind of left hanging limply, though no doubt in part from the beating it just received from the scary habanaro seasoning.  Alas, Sour and Spicy without either Sweet or Salty does not a complete flavor make (for me.)

Imagine these, spread out on a chip
without the sugar, and you will know
the flavor of Takis Nitro.

            There’s no denying that Barcel concocted a ridiculously over-the-top product with their Takis Nitro, with its uncanny fruit aroma and mouth-scorching habanero and lime flavor.  Unfortunately, I can’t say I quite enjoyed it; nevertheless, the experience is strange enough that I found myself frequently curious to try a few more in a fruitless effort to grok its sheer gonzoness.  Anyone who appreciates the super spicy or the grotesquely weird should give these a try- you may or may not love them, but you probably won’t forget that they tasted like a spicy watermelons, without the sugar.

Note: These chips are available in Mexico and the United States

Stars: 2 /4

Spiciness Rating: Flaming Hot

Pros:

- Ultra hot and super sour

- No lack of crimson-colored flavoring

- Wrapped nacho scrolls are extra crunchy and beautifully coated with spices

- Weird fruit flavor?

Cons:

- The lack of sugar or salt to tie together the sour and spicy makes these chips feel incomplete

- The sour and spice are too intense for the comfort of many (most?) palettes

- Weird fruit flavor

Cerealis Chips-Up Hot & Spicy

My final Tunisian Chip sampling was to take place nearly three months after my partner’s return from Tunisia, on a picnic in the Gardens of Versaille.  By Gardens we’re talking about a piece of property the size of a national park, and you can vividly see in the beautiful flower arrangements, breath taking vistas, and scarifying hedge mazes all of the peasants that were left unfed just so that the Sun King could employ a gardening staff the size of an army division and coat his wrought iron garden-fences with gold.  Yes, the peasants are revolting, but oh my god, just look at those hydrangeas!

In this romantic setting of reflected glory (quite literally, it was a very sunny day and there was a lot mirror-polished gold all about), I opened up the last Tunisian chip bag and began my degustation.  Yet again, I found that the imagery on the bag- which suggests something rather potato-chip like in appearance- to be deceiving.  The Chips Up line instead appears to be made out of a mash up of recombined potato mix pressed into softly-crunchy shells reminiscent of Indian papadum or Asian shrimp chips.  This is not meant to sound as gross as it does, it just needs to be clarified that these are not potato chips but potato-based snacks. On the whole, each of the ‘chips’ is pretty large and abundant with surface area, and their soft crunch is reasonably satisfying.

Given the relatively tame nature of so many chips that claim to be spicy, I actually had pretty low expectations that these chips would live up to their title.  Here, though, I was to be pleasantly surprised- Cerealis did not skimp on applying the spices, and each individual crisp proved to be potently piquant.  They did skimp on the food coloring, which in general is something I’m supposed applaud them for, but I must admit eating pure-white chips without any visual cues as to their spicy nature can be a disconcerting experience.

Papadum: thin, crunchy and salty indian
cracker/chip things, preferably eaten
dipped in chutney or tamarind sauace.

A more serious shortcoming, however, is the lack of additional flavors.  They are not spicy-barbecue, or spicy-garlicky, or spicy-pepper (though the cover art does suggest some bright red pepper powder), they are just plain spicy without apparent flavor they are specifically meant to evoke.  So although I respect their spice-power, like the infamous band, I want some more substance to go along with it.

           

Yes, the gardens go on until the end of the canal.  And they
gon on for a mile on each side, too.  And there's a special
palace just for the Queen behind the woods to the right...

‘Chips Up’ appears to be an entire line of what I assume to be similarly formed crisps with different flavorings, and assuming they can apply other flavorings with the same effectiveness that they applied the spices on the snack I tried, I think they might be worthy of consideration by travelers in Tunisia (or natives, for that matter.)  While hardly revolutionary, the potato-snack format is a little more quirkily original than the other Tunisian chips I tried, and the genuine spiciness of the Hot & Spicy variant suggests that the other flavors might show some similar virtues.

Stars: 2/4

Spiciness Rating: Hot

Pros:

- Recombined potato-snacks that are somewhat original and boast excellent surface area

- Truly, genuinely spicy-hot seasoning on each crisp

Cons:

- Serious lack of supporting flavors

- May be disappointing for anyone expecting crunchy potato chips

Pringles Xtreme Exploding Cheese & Chili

          As if acknowledging the regular inadequacy of the seasoning on many Pringle’s chips, the Pringle’s XTREME series sets out to show that they can cover their crisps with enough seasoning if they really want to.  As far as this particular variant is concerned, I can assure you that they have succeeded in rectifying this habitual shortcoming, (though my experience with the XTREME Ragin’ Cajun chips was far different) and the crisps are not lacking for strong flavors.

            Unfortunately, I’m not sure I entirely understand what they’re trying to do here- the flavoring says they are cheese and chili, and by chili, the illustrations on the canister make clear they mean chili peppers, not chili soup.  Unfortunately, while melted cheese on top of a bowl of chili is a very natural combination, I don’t feel that eating straight cheese with straight chili peppers is something any of us is likely to have done- (queer ones, on the other hand…) 

This is what you will find if you Google 'Gay Chili';
it mustbe tough when your country is one spelling
error away from being Tex Mex cuisine. Question:
is the police officer a pretty boy or a butch womyn,
and tell me those are not bedroom eyes...

“Jalapeno Poppers” I can hear you suggesting, but though the peppers on the box may be green, they flavor is not specifically that of jalapeno.  In fact, the only sense that it is ‘chili flavored’ is that it’s spicy, although the spiciness seems eerily concentrated on the tip of the tongue, rather than being distributed more naturally along its length as you would from an organic seasoning.  Still, the chips are fairly piquant, so I won’t complain too much about it.

            If the chips are a little thin on the “spicy pepper” side of things, that mostly leaves the cheese flavor, which at least isn’t subtle in announcing itself.  Unfortunately, it does hit you over the head with its saltiness and doesn’t taste like any particular type of cheese, so I’m not that impressed, but at least it’s an improvement over more half-hearted flavorings. The main ingredient in the ‘chili-cheese flavoring’: MSG.  No, really, look at it yourself, it’s the first ingredient listed!  Though after you get through the first three or four chemicals after the MSG, you do find it also includes garlic and onion powder, and some generic cheese and chili powder.

The second time  I had these chips, a pack of ghouls
had just emerged from a secret door in the  pyramid
 to ambush my sleeping comrades.  We  survived, minus
 significant chunks of our  mortal flesh.
 The chips did not.

            So you may have gotten that I’m not a big fan of them, but I shouldn’t exaggerate: if you want an unsubtle salty and spicy cheese flavor, you can definitely find it here, and there’s not a hint of the lack of seasoning problems afflicting many other types of Pringles.  However, the flavors just didn’t come together for me in an evocative way: I just couldn’t figure out what they were supposed to taste like, but clearly it was not anything natural.  However, the drunken girls in the kitchen last Friday night gobbled them right up, so maybe there are times when subtlety is unnecessary.

Stars:  2

Spiciness: Moderate

Pros:

- The flavoring is strong and well spread across the crisps

- Chips are genuinely spicy

Cons:

- The spiciness is somewhat unnatural seeming, like the ingredients themselves

- Cheese flavoring is too salty

Chio Chips Bacon szalonna izesitesu

If one European country comes close to matching the American fondness for wrapping everything in bacon, it must be Hungary, and there’s an interesting explanation rooted in ethno-zoology.  Mangalica is a species of hairy hog raised almost exclusively in Hungary and the Balkan that’s quite in fashion with the chefs in Budapest.  When I heard they were ‘hairy hogs’ I imagined something like an extra-whispy wild boar, like the Thundertusk boar in the Monster Manual, but actually they look instead rather like sheep.  In pig form. 

Woolly enough to make knit sweater out of. 

Apparently, mangalica are declining in popularity outside of the haute-cuisine scene because they mostly produce lard, which isn’t a winner in these health-conscious times, but lardy pork nevertheless has uses in a number of remarkably tasty things such as sausage and bacon.  While I can’t say I pulled any hairs from my pork, I certainly came to appreciate the local fondness for bacon.  My best meal in Hungary: chicken stuffed with bacon, stuffed with asparagus with gorgonzola polenta.  Hungarian menus evince the indisputable reality that there are few dishes that can’t be improved by a judicious application of salty-sweet pork- and/or cream sauce.

Yes, that's aspargus in bacon
in fried chicken in balsamic
sauce.

Chio’s Bacon chips promised a lot along these lines, with a beautiful image of a slab of dark bacon displayed gratuitously on the cover of the bag, and it was hard not to respond to its whispered promises.  A quick trip back to the guesthouse we were lodged in at Blaha Lujza revealed, however, that these were fairly ordinary salty barbecue flavored chips.

Now, unlike in France, we did not see ‘Barbecue’ products on the store shelves, so it seems that this tried and true vein of tasty seasoning was simply being labeled in a fashion more appropriate to local tastes.  These chips did a reasonable job of conveying a salty-smoky aroma, only using natural flavoring and coloration if the blurb on the package is to be believed.  They did more to evoke barbecue than bacon, but towards the end of the package, I could kind of imagine I was tasting the extra salty and crunchy bacon that’s been very thoroughly fried on the grill till it’s brittle and crispy.

I kind of imagined a 'hairy pig'
would look like this, but the reality is
less stabby.

The crisps themselves were reasonably pretty and authentic looking but not particularly crunchy- they had that thin-styrofoam texture to them which is acceptable in snack food, but less than virtuous.  As a whole, these chips proved serviceable but not exceptional- those looking for a familiar barbecue-like experience will be satisfied, but if you’re in Hungary, you might as well go for something a little more exotic.  Say, for example, actual sheep-pigs.

Stars: 2/4

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- Decent barbecue flavor, may eventually remind you of crispy bacon

Cons:

- More barbecue-y than bacon, not particularly inventive

- The crisps themselves aren’t very crunchy

Cerealis Cheese Fingers

In Part 3 to our Traveler’s Guide to Tunisian chips, we take a look at Cerealis Cheese Fingers.  Like all the Tunisian chips we found, these were all basically riffing off of classic Western mass-market snack food, and these ones are no exception.  (Sorry, no tagine-flavored chips so far it seems.)  Judging from the picture on the bag, you will basically find some sort of knock off of Cheesy Cheetos on the inside, right?

Max Rebo supposedly agreed to perform
for food, presumably because it would
save him money.

However, the packaging proves hilariously deceptive.  If these are fingers, than I think they were developed by a dwarf with grotesquely stubby single-jointed fingers which might only be found on Jabba the Hutt’s favorite red-ball organist, Max Rebo.  These ‘fingers’ look more like barrels, or depth charges.  Or maybe like taters.

In any case, these are not imitation Cheetos, but imitation Cheese Twists!  Yes, the oversized cousin/competitor of Cheetos, (in the great tradition of frenemy brothers and sisters that try to kill you in one episode and help you the next), less hard and crunchy, more large and puffy.  Cheese Twists are basically perfectly awesome, and just as tasty in the shape of a tater as in the more elongated shape usually found at the grocery store.

File under the category: "cafeteria food
I actually miss eating."

The flavoring is firmly within the American salty-cheddar canon, which is to say addictive but unoriginal.  That’s ok, addictive will do for me!  Anyone who experiences a need to pop some tender cheese puffs while exploring the burned out hulls of American tanks around the Kasserine Pass, or retracing the steps taken by Obi Wan Kenobi while vocalizing the mighty roar of the Krayt Dragon, knows where to find them.  Just remember, the image on the cover is hilariously inaccurate.

Stars: 2/4

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- They are essentially Cheese Twists, which are good

- The barrel shape crisps are actually kind of fun to toss in your mouth

Cons:

- Nothing new about them besides the flavor

- The packaging portrays them to be a different product

Cerealis Bugles Smokin’ BBQ Flavor

Dipping my fingers into my first bag of Tunisian chips, I can only speculate what wonders this exotic new North African locale will bring- crisps made of couscous and baklava seasoning?  Never mind that the title ‘smokin’ bbq’ is sounding much more American in inclination right down to the Drop G, (I’ll take Drop D over Drop G any time.)

A Tunisian tagine (pot) filled with
cous-cous and veggies, recipe
here.  Sadly, they haven't made
the chip seasoning yet...

However, my hyperactive imagination might have been better served to note the ‘General Mills’ logo on the corner of the bag, and as I pop out the cornucopia-shaped treats it turns out that this is a very faithful reproduction of the original American Bugle.  Right down to the lovingly ribbed corn crisp husks, the buttery savory taste as they are pulverized in the mouth, and reveille playing over the camp loud speakers.

But wait, what about the smokin’ BBQ flavoring?  Surely they mean Smokin’ in the Biblical sense.  However, you'll have to untwist your undergarments, as though the bugles themselves are pleasantly dusted with red seasoning, the flavoring is at most a very mildly sweet undertone- these are much more Bugle-flavored than BBQ seasoned.  The flavoring does contribute very subtly to the eating experience, but if you are in any way expecting ‘BBQ’ or ‘Smokey’ flavored crisps, you are in for a serious disappointment.

The US Governmen paid 20% of its annual
budget in 1800 in tribute to the Barbary
pirates.  That's more booty than even
Sir Mixalot could handle.

Nonetheless, I have kinder words for these crisps then the Bacon 3D Bugles I tried here earlier in France, because while those were actually smoky, they were also overly salty.  By contrast, for all their serious lacking of seasoning, these Tunisian bugles preserved the buttery and unobtrusive flavoring one expects from a Bugle.  We can only assume they are keeping with the grand tradition of the Barbary pirates in ruthlessly acquiring the loot for their own tasty purposes.

Stars: 2/4

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- They are 90% authentic Bugles

Cons:

- Not particularly Barbecue or Smokey

Golden Krispy’s Sun Chips Paprika

They’re called Sun Chips, use a yellow-orange color scheme, are identified as a multigrain snack, and boast of having 30% less fat than potato chips.  Why am I bothering to review this everyday American product?  Well, because these ‘Sun Chips’ are made by the Tunisian Golden Krispy company in the town of Zaghoun, and they have about as much in common with Sun Chips as MTV does with the music industry.  (Wait, did that just make sense?  Yes, it did.)

These are not the crunchy rumpled multigrain crisps you are used to, but actually little cheeseball-like confections that appear to be made of puffed corn, but are actually composed of potatoes and corn.  So, multigrain, but not necessarily in the healthy ‘I’m good for your digestion’ way.  Still, there’s nothing objectionable about the format- they are relatively soft textured and the size of playing marbles (that is, a little larger than a Coco Puff), a pleasant light orange in color with the occasional speck of black pepper, and melt swiftly in the mouth.  The pebbles are lacking in density, but at least they aren’t rough or brittle on the outside.

The seasoning certainly isn’t very paprika-ish, although faint overtones of the Hungarian spice can be detected amidst the broadly sweet flavoring, with the occasional seasoned-salt surge and perhaps even a slightly sour element that elicits saliva from the tongue.  The flavoring on each individual puff tends to make a pleasant first impression on the tongue, but like a visit from your favorite mistress, doesn’t last as long as you would like, so I ended up gobbling three or four at once to saturate my mouth with the tasties.  Overall, a slightly higher seasoning content would have been better, but this shortcoming proved far from fatal.

Although Golden Krispy’s product has nothing to do with everybody’s favorite multigrain chips, they are still pretty fun to munch and deliver a seasoning that’s fairly compelling with its blend of sweet and salty, even if it seems a little off topic.  I’m vaguely curious if Golden Krispy actually has some licensing arrangement with Sun Chips to take advantage of their brand name (certainly the marketing is remarkably parallel), but I don’t want to give the game away if they don’t!  If I ever end up going to Tunisia myself, I’m definitely going to seek a LARGE bag of these so I can mindlessly munch away at them as I bake away under the sun of one of the world’s latest revolutionary states and trust that the the masses will even everything out.

Stars: 2/4

Spiciness: None

Pros:

- Reasonably amusing sweet-and-salty flavoring

- Fun to pop three or four in your mouth like coco pebbles

Cons:

- Not particularly Paprika-like, or spicy

- The individual balls could use more seasoning

- The chips are a little thin in texture

Pringles Xtreme Ragin’ Cajun

This is the second bag of chips I’ve reviewed that invokes the original angry native of Louisiana, James Carville, the Clintonite political adivsor married to the Republican political operative Mary Matalin, and on a level that is completely unrelated to the flavoring, the title was completely appropriate, because when I produced my first crisp from the tube lovingly air-transported for my delectation, I probably resembled Carville after a husband-wife chat on the future of American healthcare:

The photographer did not survive the fire-breath and laser-beams-from-the-eyes that  followed.  Also, for some reason, the camera did not capture my horns, second row of fangs, and the blackness of my heart. Well, maybe the last one.

Those of you who are not color blind may note that what you can see is the image of a white Pringle crisp with an extremely thin trace of flavoring along the ridge of the crisp.  Which is to say that the rest of the supposedly Cajun-themed crisp has no flavoring.  For chip, after chip, after chip.  While I have no Cajun ancestors, I am half French and this outrage is enough to inspire in me the famous battle frenzy of my Louisianan not-really-forbearers as they routed the English in the battle of New Orleans in 1815.

Take THAT for burning down the White House!
Note that they learned after the battle that the peace treaty had already been signed weeks earlier.  Woops!

Pringles often (but not universally) exhibit abysmal incompetence in their application of flavoring, but this particular batch was beyond the pale ale- countless chips with the most insultingly miniscule amounts of flavoring applied in a thin line on the edge of the crisp.  Can you not feel your blood pressure mounting at this calculated insult or blithering incompetence, as surely as if you had just received the glove-slap of a young aristocrat who has just finished soiling the graves of your ancestors?  Pringles without flavoring are simply not that impressive, thank you, and as the brand coasts by on its reputation it should really address the dangerous fundamental issues in its flavoring application before they go the way of the US economy at the end of the housing bubble.

Those hard eyes promise cruel retribution
for heretical views on American
exceptionalism...IN BED!

The truly great tragedy here, though, is that the seasoning on the crisps is actually pretty damn good, and if it had been appropriately and consistently applied I would be singing its praises to high heavens (where presumably Xena in angel form could appreciate them.)  Towards the middle of the tube, some of the crisps began exhibiting something more like 50% coverage of seasoning, and it was enough for me to realize that, in marked contrast to the Ragin’ Cajun Cheetos, (which were good but basically renditions of sour cream and tabasco), these crisps were genuinely spicy and evocative of Cajun seasonings.

NO PRINGLES IN HEAVEN!  WRATH! Now
there is nothing to divert me from my ambiguously
sado-masochistic relationship with Gabrielle!

Yes, you heard that right, the Xtreme label is there to denote the supposed intensity of the flavoring, and if you are so lucky to eat a crisp with even half of the appropriate amount of flavoring, you will see that these crisps are actually burning hot.  Hot enough in fact to burn your lips collaterally, but it’s all in good fun, and what’s a little pyromania without innocent victims?  Suffice to say, these Pringles were satisfyingly spicy when the seasoning was actually there, and I was favorably impressed.

Sadly the tellingly unpretentious original
location has closed, but was reopened
at a different location- I should definitely
check it out next time I'm in town!

The flavor of the seasonings didn’t stand out as much (being more limited by the unevenness of their distribution than the spicy aspect), but all in all they exhibited a salty-sweet blend that evoked childhood meals at a Washington DC area institution, the Louisiana Express, and its use of orange-colored seasonings usually prominently featuring ground-cayenne and paprika matched with a smoky aroma.  (The ingredients list additionally denotes garlic, onion, and tomato powder, as well as habaneros in the mélange.)  A whiff of my hands after the guilty snack reminded me more than little of my grubby youthful self after having devoured an Andouille sausage or paella, and just about to get my sticky fingers covered in powdered-sugar coated beignets.  So, even though the screw up on applying the flavoring seriously limits the degree to which you can appreciate the flavoring, on those occasions that there’s enough there to taste, you’ll feel that they did it right.

The chips don't actually taste like beignets
but I felt like putting a picture up anyway.
They're like donuts but Frencher!

So there you have the tragedy of the Ragin’ Cajun: like a talented art student that flunks out of college out of failure to actually turn anything in, the seasoning on the Pringles is brilliant and provocatively spicy when present, but all too often there is a serious problem with attendance.

Stars: 2/4 (3 if the seasoning had consistently applied, 1 if every crisp had been as poorly coated as the first half of the tube)

Spiciness: Hot

Pros:

- Intensly spicy flavor that lingers without slaying

- Delightfully evocative Cajun spices seasoning, that when present, reminds you of bayou cuisine

Cons:

- SEASONING MIA, PRESUMED AWOL (to varying degrees on 2/3 of the crisps)

Lorenz Monster Munch Gout Jambon & Fromage, Gout Sel, Gout Barbecue

           So every time I go shopping, I’m confronted by a rack full of Monster Munch bags, which honestly are very unfrightening in their little parade of of smiling ghost faces.  However, they do remind me of Pac-Man, and at a loss for more interesting things to buy at that particular store, I resolved to try them out, having been assured they were everybody’s favorite child hood snack.  Now having done some research, it turns out Monster Munch is a big deal in the UK, where they are available with distinct monster-bodies and flavors like ‘Pickled Onion’ and ‘Roast Beef.’  The French flavors are more pedestrian, and in appearance more unified; it appears that the brand has been licensed by a French company which proceeded to do whatever the hell they wanted to with them, so I am not really passing judgment on the UK Monster Munch, which appears to be a whole different bag of (rather interesting-sounding) chips.

As this food analyst acidly put it,
"they are clearly ghosts", not monsters
as in the UK. Anyone used to exploring
dungeons understands this means they
are more likely to drive you insane or
possess you, but not as talented at the
whole bite-your-face off routine,
lacking, as they do, physical form.

            Now in addition to feeling sheepishly infantile for eating ‘Monster Munch’, I was a little reluctant to try them based on my last experience with a Lorenz product, which proved to be brittle and rough on the outside and empty on the inside.  Well, true to form, these ectoplasmic chip-cracker-things (they are made 24.5% out of sunflower oil, and 22% out of pureed potato powder, so make of that what you will) aren’t so rough on the outside, but they’re still empty on the inside.  In texture they are reminiscent of Asian shrimp chips minus the fish flavor, fortunately for me and my anti-piscine ways.  So all in all, these phantoms are acceptable vehicles for flavor delivery, though I still hold the lack of inner substance against these ethereal marauders.

If only they looked like actual
ethereal marauders, everybody's favorite
transdimensional velociraptor that never,
ever wants to close its mouth.

Ham and Cheese Flavored

So now that we have established, in the model of a proper college science experiment, the commonalities in texture between the three case samples, we are left to identify in turn the variations in flavoring.  First in order of tasting is Ham and Cheese, which go well together in real life, and should do so as well as in the ‘let’s pretend’ world of flavoring.  The melted-gruyer Croque-monsieur (literally translated: ‘man-snack’, rrrow!) is the ur-sandwich of the French lunch table, so the folks at Lorenz clearly know what they’re doing from the culturally specific marketing angle.

There's something almost American about
the French preference for literally soaking
their ham sandwiches in additional cheese
and cream until it is a sopping wet mess of
hot melted cream and meat.  Mmmm,
romantic!  No wonder it's called a man snack.

            Fortunately, for them, it works pretty decently, with intimations of gruyer cheese contrasting tonally with a saltier ‘ham’ like accent.  The flavor emulation is far from evocative of the real thing, but you still have a sort pleasant creamy cheese-and-salt flavor rolling around in your mouth after you mash more than a few- and you will probably be tempted to eat more than a few at a time because of the aforementioned lack of density.  Unfortunately, this also means that they can fill a medium sized bag of these up, charge a ‘regular’ French price for them, and end up receiving only 80 grams of content rather than the more standard 100 or 135 grams.  So all in all, nothing to write home about but nonetheless a passable snack .

Salty Monster Munch

            What do you get when you take the unremarkable crisps of the Ham’n’Cheese munch and subtract the flavoring for some old fashioned saltiness?  Nothing especially good.  I will grant that ‘plain’ Monster Munch is all right for some mindless eating, perhaps while drunk on the side of a canal, but it fails to be very compelling because basic unflavored Monster Munch crisps are just not all that good.

Barbecue Monster Munch

            Like the final action scene in a Vin Diesel movie, the location of my last sampling of the French Monster Munch occurred on the docks of the Ile Saint-Louis in the middle of the Sein, where finally the proverbial Monster united with a proper flavor for maximum appeal (did I mention there were motor boats and Germans present?)  Unlike nearly every other barbecue flavoring I’ve had in France, this one reflects an understanding that barbecue should be sweet as well as salty, a combination which it offers to satisfying effect.  While we aren’t talking about a really sophisticated flavoring made with natural herbs and spices, the sweet-and-salty flavor that’s there is genuinely enjoyable, hitting the right notes and finally giving the inoffensive crisps something to swagger about.



Typical riverine scene from the Ile-
Saint Louis.  Please note that the shark
is mechanical and controlled by Nazis.
Also, a great picnic spot.

            So in summary, these obviously are meant to have a sort of unsophisticated appeal, and at that level they are fairly enjoyable as long as you don’t ponder the metrics behind the price-for-quantity ratio.  If you like to eat your chips seriously, sitting on a leather chair glass of gin in hand, contemplating the deep dark darkness of the human soul, Monster Munch really won’t be deep enough for you.  However, they make fairly compelling eating for those in a sociable (and quite possibly drunk) mood who don’t need to pay close attention to the refinement (or lack thereof) of what they are eating.  These munches look exactly like the ghosts from PacMan after eating one of the Power Pellets (did you know that each ghost has a different name and programmed hunting behavior?) and who hasn’t wanted to experience that vicarious thrill in real life?  (Ok, don’t overwhelm my inbox with responses to that one…)  Monster Munchies: for the kids and the PacMan in all of us.

If you enjoy sitting in your antique leather
armchair, pondering your inevitable descent into
madness and corruption and the crunchiness
of potato chips, too numbed by inner suffering
to pay heed to the fawning attempts of your slave
girls to earn your favor, you may find Monster
Munch too crude for your refined sensibilities.
Then again, you may prefer a diet of
unwilling souls.

Stars: 2 for Ham and Cheese

            1 for Salt

            2½ for Barbecue

Pros:

- Chips for a Ghostbuster!

-Easy and pleasant to eat when you don’t need to pay close attention

- Ham and Cheese: There is a fun salty and creamy vibe with these once you really start crunching them

- Barbecue: pleasantly sweet as well as salty, balancing the flavor well

Cons:

- The crisps are airy and insubstantial in the middle

- Flavoring is more suggestive than evocative

- Salty: Don’t bother with these unless inebriated