Ballreich’s Marcelled Smokey Sweet Mesquite Potato Chips

       One of the most rewarding aspects of writing this blog is all the opportunities to expand my knowledge and vocabulary.  When I was sitting down to write this review and trying to decide in which order to write the title for the review (as the presentation on the package, ‘Sweet Mesquite Smokey Ballreich’s Marcelled Potato Chips’, didn’t quite flow to my satisfaction), I suddenly realized I had no idea what ‘Marcelled’ meant.  Well, I had a suspicion, so off I went to Google.

Hair style invented in France in 1872
by Francois Marcel.

          Of course, Marcell refers to a “hairstyle characterized by deep regular waves made by a heated curling iron.” That would describe a large portion of the do’s on the swarms of ladies walking outside my apartment, coming to avail themselves to Paris’s premier African hair salon district.  But it also refers to Ruffled chips with wider and deeper trenches in between each ruffle than usual.  Think, wide as a ridge-cut French fries!

I wasn't exagerating about where I live- every one of those is either a hair
salon or a wig vendor.  I regularly walk on shed diva
hair every morning.  Ah, Paris!

         Needless to say, Ballreich’s chips are precisely of this variety, and all the more charming for it.  Each of the blonde potato chips is large and fairly thick, but in a soft-crunch rather than hard-cracking way.  The long, lazy waves on the chip’s surface happily channel the tongue to lap up the flavored goods, which are admittedly intriguing.

Note the marcelled waves.  A guy found
God in his potato chip bag, because
what else could possily explain a random
cross shaped hole and Jesus fish shaped
burn in a potato chip? With only a gazillion
chips out there, certainly not probability.

           Ballreich’s Mesquite chips reminded me of the sweet molasses flavoring of Grippo’s Barbecue chips, which is high praise considering my stunned enjoyment of that product.  However, Ballreich’s chips emphasize a different, saltier aroma, albeit with equal verve and intensity- the chips appeared to be cooked in, or seasoned, with shortening, aka, lard, and the pervasive salty-fat taste makes the chips taste as if they were fried on a salt pan full of rib-meat and bacon drippings.  (The ingredients list clarifies that the chips are cooked in ‘soybean shortening’, but like many other products derived from the protein substitute, it definitely proves convincing!) That the shortening is soaked inside the chips, rather than applied on top, makes it all the more pervasive, 

Molasses, it must be admitted, looks
suspiciously like the alien ichor in
Promtheus.  Maybe that's why it never
quite caught on as much as honey...

        The downside of the flavoring is that it does bring the chips heavily on the salty side, and some may feel the evocation of lard on the grill is a little disturbing.  (For what it’s worth, the chips have an average number of calories, but an above average number coming from fat.)    The seasoning does, nonetheless, deliver the entirety of the barbecue experience, with mesquite spices (but not hot spices), a general smoky aroma, and those sweet molasses notes (the ingredients list includes molasses, onion, garlic, and paprika powder.) 

Let's admit it, lard can be
disturbing...

         Overall, I appreciated the unique stylings of these crisps, from their lovely marcelled soft-crunch potato slices, the soaked-to-the-bones shortening flavor, and the lovely notes of sweet molasses.  However, the other aspects of the barbecue flavoring are little further in the background than I would have liked- more spice and more sugar would have been a plus- and the saltiness and the fatty-tasting sensation has downsides as a chip flavoring.  As long as you can suppress the instinctive guilt at eating something which really tastes like it’s been soaked in salty, delicious fat, you may still find Ballreich’s fashionably-cut crisps worth giving a try.

Stars: 3/4

Spiciness Rating: Very Mild

Pros:

- Remarkable lard-shortening flavor pervades the foundations of each crisp

- Large marcelled chips with a crumbly soft crunch are pleasure to munch

- Sweet molasses notes in the seasoning distinguish these from regular barbecue chips

Cons:

- At times a little too salty, and the sweeter aspects of the barbecue seasoning get a short shrift

- The shortening flavor may possibly be a turn off for some

Route 11 Mama Zuma’s Revenge Habanero Potato Chips

Image courtesy of JunkFoodGuy
who has a very comprehensive
analysis of the packaging.

Let's be honest, for some books or movies the cover or poster alone is worth the price of admission, so ridiculously awesome (or awesomely ridiculous) that whatever follows can only at best complament the outrages insinuated.  How could this not be the case for Mama Zuma’s chips- the word ‘epic’ was misappropriated by pop culture for this very reason!

Zuma is dripping with crackling allure and a take-no-prisoners mystique, draped in a hot pepper bandolier and a revolutionary flag somewhat incongruously bearing a corporate logo rather than an anarchist slogan.  The back of the package explains that Zuma lost the love of her life in a ‘bizarre and tragic potato peeler accident’, which rather evokes Spock's attempt to con the New York police (see 0:43) by claiming his ears were the result of an encounter with a mechanical rice picker.  Now Zuma is “hell bent on burning every mouth she kisses with her special brand of passion”.  I can already see the Direct to DVD script writing itself, replete with explosions and catfights.  Machete, watch out, you have a competitor!

I SO want to see this movie.  Very slightly adapted
from Ludolf Backhuy's original oil paintaing...

As much as Route 11 may come off as being full on themselves with their “Warning: These chips are made with some of the hottest peppers on the planet” labels and assorted spicy food braggadocio, Zuma chips prove she’s no girly Sailor Moon and fully deserves her reputation for fiery badassitude.  These chips are exceptionally hot and spicy, and manage to pack in about as much flavor as possible on a chip thats set about burning away your taste buds from the get go.  Your mouth is Atlanta, and the chips are Sherman.



Sherman left Atlanta 100% more burnt
down than when he arrived, though
at least he didn't leave the population
inside while indulging his pyromania.

I’ve already discussed Jalapeno peppers in previous posts, but Habanero peppers are their more elite, more rarely encountered cousins: small, perfectly innocent-looking orange peppers that just happen to be one the most intensely spicy naturally-born peppers on the face of the earth.  Literally.  Habaneros also have their own distinct flavor from Jalapenos, (sweeter and less bitter overall), but they are so burning hot that one rarely is afforded much of a chance to notice it.



Habaneros look so dainty and cute for
something that can leave  you writhing
in pain.  The Red Savina Habanero was
claimed to be the hottest pepper on
Earth, but that title has been claimed 
later by others such as the Ghost Chili,
Naga Viper and the Trinidad Scorpion
among other names on what appears to
be a team of superheroes.

Let me be honest, just like you may feel the English Patient is a lovely movie but you wouldn’t recommend it for kids, Zuma’s chips are only going to be appropriate for two types of people: those who enjoy extremely spicy flavors, or those who enjoy a genuine test of their endurance.  Snack-eaters with a more limited capacity for setting a raging firestorm in your gills would be wise to stay away- every individual chip eaten alone packs a terrifying punch, and three or so in succession will leave a prolonged burn in your throat.



Though it does look like Count Lazlo
(Ralph Fiennes) may also have a turbulent
history with Mama Zuma as well...

The crisps themselves are quite small- ranging between 1 inch and 1.5 inches in diameter on average- though this is not really a great flaw because the individual chips are so densely packed with spices and flavor that more would be counterproductive and possibly dangerous for your mouth.  They are beautifully kettle-cooked, with a bubbly and crunchy texture, and slathered with thick orange seasonings.

This excellent photo courtesy
of Aleta fom the Omnomicon,
who actually offers a recipe of
baked chicken breasts covered
in Zuma's Revenge chips.

I hinted earlier that extremely spicy foods can limit the extent to which other flavors can be appreciated, and there is no doubt that the powerful habanero spices in Zuma’s Revenge predominate over the other seasonings on these chips. Nonetheless, those subtler flavors are still there to be appreciated- notes of salt and garlic, and a pleasing smoky aroma give a wonderfully sophisticated backdrop for the tongue-stomping in the foreground.  Furthermore, the distinct taste of the habanero pepper can be discerned, which is a rewarding surprise in and of itself.

Anyone looking to see how far they are willing to burn themselves for love of spicy sensations is well advised to give Zuma’s Revenge a shake.  Here, the incandescent thrills are matched with first-class supporting spices and kettle cooked potato rounds.  However, a slower pace of eating is advised, or that fiery fox will burn you to a crisp.

Stars: 3/4

...I wasn't kidding!  Although I would
personally be rather afraid to bite into
that delicious looking thing, considering
how spicy those chips are individually.

Spiciness Rating: Flaming Hot

Pros:

- Truly spicy Habanero challenge

-Excellent backdrop flavors of salt, garlic, and pepper

- Beautiful extra-crunchy crisps

Cons:

- Only good for those with a tolerance for intense spice

- The crisps are very small, and should be eaten slowly

Vitasia Wasabi Chips

            What follows is a first-encounter-with-Wasabi story, followed by a review.  Many people have mixed feelings about Wasabi, the Japanese horse-radish like plant that is often served as paste to accompany sushi.  Many lust for its intensly spicy sensation, it’s flamethrower like effect on the nostrils, its exotic mustard-like aroma.  But many have been hurt by Wasabi.  Badly.  So badly, they swear off Wasabi and believe it their mission to shelter all innocents from its piquant embrace.  This is a tragedy, but even more terrible is their spreading of these repressive anti-wasabi teachings, thereby preventing others from realizing their own spicy Aspian bliss.

Wasabi plant being converted into Wasabi
paste.  A dissapointing fact: most
'wasabi' products (paste, powder, etc.) are
 not actually made from wasabi, but rather
 a mix of horseradish, mustard powder
 and green dye. Like the characters in
the Matrix, we have no idea what reality
 tastes like; but at least the approximation
 is good...

            My history with wasabi began ten years ago, while I was working on a human trafficking internship for the International Rescue Committee in Phoenix, Arizona, and living away from everyone I knew in a small apartment by myself.  My mom, being a quintessential mom, sent me packages.  The first one that arrived included an assortment of books, baked cookies, and some garishly multi-colored canisters that looked like they should hold tennis balls.  But no, they were cans full of Wasabi peas.  So eating all by myself in my lonely Phoenix apartment is how I discovered Wasabi- and also played through 80% of Baldur’s Gate II.

They look so innocent...

            Wasabi (or more realistically, what we associate as being wasabi- see the caption above) is great- it packs a dry hot burn like a desert khamseen that can really scorch the nostrils if you’re not careful.  One of the first things my partner Erin taught me was a trick to avoid the dread eye-watering nose-burn: inhale continuously through the nose after eating, and you shall know no pain.  Erin remains a much bigger wasabi fiend than I.

Khamseen: a hot, dry, dusty windstorm
of the sort common in North Africa. See
also: your nostrils after eating a hand full
of wasabi peas...

            Considering how long it’s been slathered and sprinkled on other kinds of dried snacks, it’s only fitting that I’ve started coming across some Wasabi potato chips in Western markets- really, the idea should have been popularized way sooner.  But leave it to Lidl, the German discount chain, to randomly to acquire some overstocked ‘Asian-Food’-Actually-Made-in-Europe and flood the local store with it.  We were not too impressed by the Bami Goreng box on sale by the same company, (too salty), but the Wasabi chips did not disappointment.

Baldur's Gate II : the game that forced you
to resolve catfights between a widowed
druidess looking for a rebound
 relationship and an elf circus freak
 with flightless wings eager to have
your babies- while dealing with a
politico-religious succession crisis
 in an aquatic  kingdom of shark men. 
Seriously.

            The crisps themselves are a pretty green in color, as one would expect, and the flavoring is no more and no less than what you’d expect.  They taste absolutely like real wasabi, and inspired me to cram my mouth to get one more blistering hit, but I should note that the burnination was generally under control.  The chips are spicy, but less likely to set you on fire inside-out than the Wasabi peas I cut my egg-teeth on, or other Wasabi-related things I have eaten.  Overall, this is probably a good thing, but it will disappoint anyone craving the firepower to sterilize their sinuses.

Not enough Burnination to please
Trogdor, for better or worse. 
But if you need more,
here's a guide...

           
The potato slices themselves were kind of unimpressive- standard Lay’s chips that are ultra-thin and not particularly crunchy.  They still did their job, but I believe I would have enjoyed them more if the crisps hadn’t been as flimsy as paper cranes in a hurricane.  So, I don’t doubt that other manufacturors have gone ahead and formulated Wasabi chips, and if they are at least as good as the ones by Vitasia, I definitely recommend trying them out.  The idea is so obvious and intrinsically worthwhile that the product itself doesn’t have to be of super high quality to still provide a welcome surprise fireball cleansing for their taste buds and nose hairs.

Stars: 3/4

Spiciness: Hot

Pros:

- Delivers the classic-Wasabi flavor, just like you’d want it

- Adequate flavoring, adequate heat-

- Chips are as pretty green as leprechaun lasses

Cons:

- Strictly no frills

- Rather weak in texture

Vico Chips a l’Ancienne saveur Vinaigre à l'Echalote

My experience writing reviews for Vico chips is that they are cursed: the reviews, not the chips.  I stared at the shiny, over-priced bags in stores for a long time before I finally caved in (and found them at a cheaper price), and then wrote two reviews full of praise and love and yearnings for world peace.  Then the computer failed to wake up from sleep (sadly normal) and the Autosave messed up (maddeningly abnormal) and I was left with no evidence of that heady, intense fling.

Yet, along came Vico’s Shallot Vinegar chips to reawaken my passion.  Vico, it must be emphasized, is a special beast- nearly all the other chips I review from French stores are either made by Lay’s or are store brands, but Vico’s appears to be an actual independent French chip company from Picardie with a long and proud tradition of potato based products which do appear to merit their higher prices by virtue of having pretty damn good crunch and texture.

However, it's the flavoring here that shatters frontiers by offering what other chip-makers have lacked the courage and foresight to do: bring vinegar and onion together, at last, like a soap opera coupling you began rooting for five seasons ago.  The vinegar aspect is well done and effectively balanced, each chip evoking a tangy acidity of vinegar without going overboard into Sour Patch kids territory.  More interesting, however, is the echalot (shallot) flavoring, which in its subtlety, wafts breezily onto the tongue like the effervescently glowing presence of an onion-y willow wisp.

"We are truly benevolent energy beings
from a land of light and pure good. Come
closer and- what?  Oh, never mind the
skull.  It just fits in with the decor.
We live in a swamp, y'know?"

Yes, we are talking about shallot, an elongated variety of onion with a sweeter and milder flavor which Wikipedia insists is also “richer andmore complex.”  Think of shallots as the posh and classy diplomats of the onion family (they’re very pleasant when cooked in a wine sauce and eaten whole alongside seared steak), rather than the ‘roll ‘em over and make ‘em cry’ types that we more commonly encounter (and love in our own masochistic way).  Intriguingly, there is also shallot vinegar, which is sweet and mellow, and not nearly as onion-y as you might think it is. As a result, the shallot flavoring on the chips is pleasingly musty and sweet without the acrid overtones we associated with regular onions.

Most of the Vico chips I’ve tried have been baked with an extra thick and crunchy ruffled texture, but these chips proved to be thin, relatively small potato slices.  They demonstrated a slightly greater degree of crunchiness than the average Lay’s chips, but were still cut a little too finely for my taste- an extra quarter of a millimeter can really do wonders.  All in all, though, the slices were still above average and more than adequate at delivering the wonderful flavoring.

Allow me to restate the vital point: vinegar and onion flavoring are awesome when combined, and it’s a wonder nobody thought of it before.  They earn a million extra fancy points for going for shallots rather than regular onions, making this another example of truly excellent idea that deserves to spread beyond France’s normally underdeveloped potato chip market.

Stars: 3 /4

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- Effectively tangy vinegar flavoring is evenly applied across the chips

- Sweet and tasty shallot aromas emerges from the vinegar base with subtlty and class

- Crisps are well baked

Cons:

- Crisps are thin and a little small, which I feel could be improved upon

Lay’s Saveur Ketchup

           Ketchup has got to be the most déclassé condiment of our times, part and parcel of the whole hamburger-eating American stereotype which is alive and well for good reason, but let us concede to the undeniable truth of the matter: ketchup is pretty awesome.  Try eating fries with and then without ketchup; this is not a purely academic exercise, because while French fries (or should I say, Belgian fries?- in fact, the origin story of the fries is far from clear...) are as popular in France as you might imagine, ketchup is not a default table setting, and a restaurant is much more likely to offer you a pot of mustard to accompany your frites (not bad as a dip, but lacking the sweetness which makes ketchup so lovable, forcing Norther Americans to publicly shame themselves into making a special request for a bottle of the red stuff .)  So, while we all have a natural guilty feeling when we consider the gruesome bloody farts ketchup bottles produce, we should realize that without those venerable bottles of Heinz’s finest, we would be truly lost when confronted by yet another mound of flavorless ground beef and lightly seasoned fries.

Actually, there are some exotic theories
as to the origins of ketchup involving
a Malysian pickled fish sauce (koi-chep)
without tomatos brought into England
by explorers in the 18th century.

            That said, my instinctive guilt surrounding this staple of horror movie special effects made me feel rather squeamish about the idea of ketchup chips.  Just as you wouldn’t eat ketchup strait with a spoon, it seems grotesque to propose it as a chip seasoning.  Those who know me well, however, can predict that my sense of duty prevailed and I decided to continue boldly claiming my mantle as the man willing to sample the snacks and reassure the littlefolk whether they are safe to try.

            Fortunately for me, and the rest of you, it turns out Ketchup chips are as hot as a fountain of blood-red vinegary-sweet lava.  They correctly lean a bit on the vinegary side, but add just the right notes of tomato-y sweetness that you’ll swear you have the after taste of Uncle Heinz’s mouth wash.  If it helps, think of them as vinegar chips with a hint of tomato and sugar and you’ll be good to go- I think you will find the seasoning finely balanced between the acid and the sweet, or at least as balanced as the soup of cats.

Catsup.

            Crisp wise, these are your regular Lay’s potato chips, which is to say unimpressive- lacking in crunch factor, but serviceable.  However, that’s kind of beside the point- you buy Ketchup chips for flavoring, not texture, and fortunately, the seasoning is spread lightly and evenly throughout the chips to a generally positive effect.  While I can imagine a few ways they could kicked them up a notch, (a phrase which seems to give not a few culinary observers a sort of post-coital thrill), the truth is Lay’s did an excellent job balancing the seasoning, and your fingers will smell like you just left a messy hamburger grill.

Stars: 3/4

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- Nice but not overpowering vinegary flavor

- Uncannily evocative and subtly sweet tomato aromas

- They smell is just right!

Cons:

- The crisps are average in texture and a little flimsy

- The shame of a guilty pleasure

Lay’s Smoked Cheese with Pepper

Available in Poland, Czech, Slovakia,
the Baltic states, and Hungary

If the review that follows has a slightly reverential tone, you can thank EasyJ et.   While we avoided paying the numerous EasyJet fines that are the classic stuff of airline horror stories, we were still left hungry on board with a pocketful of foreign currency and empty bellies.  Could I have a Coke please?  4 Euros.  For a can.  Would you like a sandwich with that?  No!   

So we tore into one of the three bags we had snagged at the store before departing Hungary, and I was forced to write this review on the flight back, despite having just written 3 others, because Erin was so eager to finish the bag and I wanted to make sure I still had the lingering smoky flavor in my mouth while I raved like a prophet inscribing into his holy book.

Lay’s Polish branch has hatched another East European Easter Egg, something so tasty I can only wonder why this wasn’t picked up in the United States long ago and marketed to every corner of the earth.  Standard salty cheddar cheese flavoring has been done to death, but somebody at Lay’s realized that rather than revisiting that tired old cliché, smoked Gouda would transform the mundane into the spectacular as surely as taking an turn down the road to Toon Town.

Creamy soft, salty, and smokey,
I cannot sing the praises of Smoked
Gouda enough- go out and try it!  It is
strangely unavailable in French stores.

Gouda cheese is of course available in un-smoked form, in which it tastes rather plain and cheddar-like- but try a smoked Gouda and you will enter a world of smoky-salty character that would rival a Cohen brothers flick.  Smoked Gouda is a Technicolor dream boat, there I said it, and it manages to be every bit as flavorful as French cheese while not coming from France, nor relying on aging and stinkiness to give it flavor.  (The last time the French came close to capturing the Netherlands, the Dutch flooded the dykes.)

The Dutch blowing the Dykes: though this may sounds like a
collective lesbian orgasm so great Obi-Wan would sense a
disturbance in the Force, it instead refers to inundating most
of the surface area of  your country with the waters of the
ocean. Nearly as awesome…

The chemists at Lay’s have recaptured the flavor of Gouda cheese with remarkable precision, and I found my mouth filling with rich smokehouse fumes and could taste the creamy cheese practically melting in my mouth.  If you are unfamiliar with Gouda, the flavor is also somewhat akin to the taste of baked cheese, such as the slightly burnt ends of a toasted cheese sandwich or baked ziti, but I mean that in the best way possible.  Go ahead and try it!

Not all is well in Heaven, so I must report that the crisps themselves are thin and not especially crunchy.  More curiously, however, while the black pepper advertised as part of the title is visible in tiny specks on the chips (though much less densely than portrayed on the packaging), it is not much evident as a component of the flavor.  While a more tangible, and tangibly spicy, pepper statement would certainly have contributed even more to the experience, the flavoring is so tasty that it fortunately stands quite well without it.

These should definitely be on your go-out-and-try list- the flavoring is tasty and fairly unique, and though held back by some sins of omission, remains compelling and flavorful in a way that apparently only Eastern Europe can appreciate (which is odd, as Gouda is a West European cheese.)  I did a web search for the Smoked Cheese chips after returning, and the only site that referenced them was from Lithuania.  Now there's a tragedy I can rectify...

Stars: 3/4

Spiciness: Very Mild

Pros:

- Remarkably evocative and smoked-gouda flavor

- Yummy and unique

Cons:

- Probably not available anywhere near you- unless you live east of Germany

- The texture and crunchiness of the crisps are average

- Pepper-aspect of the flavor is disappointingly minimal

Chio Premium Moments Egzotikus Indonez Fuszerezesu

Apparently, you can also have
a 'premium moment' eating
Cheddar in London or Balsamic
vinegar in Venice judging by the
2 other products in the line.

(Exotic Oriental Flavoring)

Not many snack food products go so far as to promise you ‘memorable moments’ within their foil-wrapped package, but Chio is clearly so confident of their baby that they’re unashamed to do so with their ‘Premium’ line of chips.  They helpfully illustrate the moment they are trying to capture with some Asian architecture in the background of the package art and an eerily backlit purple sky, while the interior of the package has shiny gold foil.  Clearly these are meant to remind you of how it felt to be a gothy ninja apprentice outside a pagoda, meditating in the supernatural silence of a gathering storm about to unleash an invasion of tengu.

From "Warriors through the Ages" circa 3100:
starting in the second half of the 20th century
the secret Ninja clans of Nippon widely
adopted school girl uniforms, understanding
that the cuteness and easily injured hearts of
young students were the perfect incubators for
horrific acts of clandestine violence and tearful
philosophical monologues.

Unfortunately, I missed all of these subtle insinuations or the clearly written words in Magyar ‘Egzotikus Indonez Fuszerezesu’, because I was in Hungary, damn it, and I can neither read the language or fail to notice the obvious spicy bowl full of Paprika on the cover.  Only days later did I realize these were not ‘Paprika’ chips but ‘Exotic Oriental’ chips, though they just happen to have Paprika in the ingredients.  Oh well.  To add further insult to injury, there actually are 'Premium Moments' Paprika chips, helpfully illustrated with an image of Budapest on the cover.

But why am I complaining, these are great, and way better than other ‘Paprika chips’ I’ve had, delivering an assortment of seasoning sensations, while keeping it classy (not that I have anything against things which are not!)  Simply smelling them will assail you with a rainbow assortment of herbs- Clover, Ginger, Coriander, Paprika, Chili, All Spice (yes, ‘All Spice’, not “all spices,” but there are many in the list, it is true…) all make their presence known to contribute to a diverse assortment of flavors.    The chips are also strongly garlicky, and there is enough pepper thrown in to create a modest spicy burn, but not enough to injure any delicate sensibilities.  I should finish by noting that the potatoes themselves definitively contribute, and while I don’t usually place much emphasis on ‘tasting the potato’, I was impressed these crisps managed to so deftly balance the flavor of the potato and the seasoning without neglecting either.

'All spice' is actually made from just
one kind of seed grown originally in the
equatorial Americas and Caribbean.  The
English explorers who encountered it
thought it tasted like 3 others types of
spices, and named it in a matter that
would forever deny its uniqueness.

My earlier experiences with Chio chips, while not unpleasant, left me a little underwhelmed by the quality of the crisps themselves- surely their Premium chips would offer better?  In fact, they did demonstrate genuine quality, proving crunchy and well roasted, and prettily colored red by the seasoning without use of artificial dyes.  However, this was somewhat overshadowed by the extremely small size of the crisps themselves, which generally fell between 1.5” to 2” in diameter.  At that size, you’re practically forced to eat several at once.  Maybe those extra small potatos they are using are intrinsically more flavorful?  (The back of the bag outrageously claims they only use ‘extra-large potatoes’ and ‘large crisp sizes’, which makes me wonder what they consider to be small ones.  Anyone can clearly see these are significantly smaller than their regular line of potato chips- my upcoming review of their Tzazikki sauce chips includes a picture of a real monster.)

I was going to conclude by saying they were the best Paprika flavored chips I’ve ever had, but as they aren’t technically Paprika chips, we have to rate them against other Asian chips, and here I must confess to preferring the stronger flavors (spicier and sweeter, especially) epitomized by Kettle’s Spicy Thai or Wai Lana’s Lime Chili chips.  And yet, these crisps exist beautifully on the other side of the spectrum for those who prefer a more subtle herb-and-spices-oriented experienced, and who really wish to enjoy the taste of the potato as well as the toppings themselves.  Without a doubt, the best not-Paprika chips I’ve ever had.

Stars: 3 Stars

Spiciness: Moderate

Pros:

- Beautiful mix of varied and piquant spices, including more than a little garlic and a pinch of spice

- The flavor of the potatoes is ably balanced with the seasoning

- Beautiful and crunchy crisps

Cons:

- Crisps are very small, forcing one to eat several at once

- Impressive, but more subtle than other Asian-spices themed chips

Cheetos Mighty Zingers Ragin’ Cajun & Tangy Ranch

            I had been eyeing this double-offering for while with mixed feelings of desire and wise hesitation, like that handsome girl (or guy) you know is totally into you, but which the wisdom-based portion of your brain is telling you will likely bring nothing but trouble.  The desire is there because I like Cheetos and I like getting two flavors in one bag, the prudent hesitation, in this case, being a sister product (Cheetos Sharp Cheddar and Spicy Picante) that proved gravely disappointing if not a total loss.   However, having succumbed to my baser desires (or curiosity, at least, if that doesn’t count as one), and brought these giblet-sized corn puffs on a date with my mouth, I feel like I can assure you that while this gal may have few issues just like her sister, she is way cooler and fun to hang out with.

"It's the economy STUPID," says
an angry French speaker from
Louisiana.  Not pictured: a ranch
drenched in lemon juice.

            Let’s be upfront about the issues though: we are once again talking about Coco pebble-sized Cheetos rather than stick-shaped Cheetos.  While this is designed to enable you biting two of the flavors at once with each bite, the problem is that the smaller Cheeto bits are not as satisfying to eat individually and a pain to have to collect in between your clawed fingers.  My feeling is that a better compromise would have been bits about half the mass of your average Cheeto, which would have made them better for eating individually but still feasible to eat in multiples.  To be fair, some of the Cheeto bits actually are cut at that happy medium, but not enough.

An informative look at what's inside
courtesy of the review by Hot Chicks
Eatin' Spicy Chips, who rather liked
them but note that the Tabasco-sauce
flavoring is rather more evocative of
Buffalo Wings than Cajun cuisine.  So
not a bad thing, but not what you may
be expecting.

            Overall, though, I did not find this deficiency to be as annoying this time around because the actual flavorings involved were much more satisfying.  The light-gold colored Tangy Ranch bits and the reddish-orange colored Ragin’ Cajun pieces are both basically derivative, but still have their subtle differences and work well together.  The Tangy Ranch is basically just like the ranch flavoring on a Dorito, though a bit more sour in taste, and works well on Cheetos even if it’s not original.  The Ragin’ Cajun bits are basically flavored like spicy Tabasco sauce, and pack a respectable kick.  Any one who's had the red Spicy Cheetos knows roughly what to expect, but these are actually tangy-er and combine pretty well with the ranch flavored ones, even though the spiciness-level is somewhat diluted.

I don't know how I feel about you after
meeting your evil twin who was in favor
of planetary genocide as a means for
furthering the domination of the Empire,
but now that I've had both flavors of
Mighty Zingers I realize that villainy
isn't a genetic trait!  Logically.

            So all in all, it was fun chowing these down and I’m glad I gave into my unwise temptation, because sometimes it isn’t fair to make assumption about a guy or a girl based on that troublesome relative of theirs you already know.  Anyone who likes the idea of Tabasco and ranch flavored Cheetos should give these a try.

Star: 3/4

Spiciness Level: Moderate

Pros:

- Ranch-flavored Cheeto-bits are an interesting remix

- The ‘Cajun’ Cheetos come off as a tangier variant of Spicy Cheetos, who’s awesomeness we should all acknowledge

- The flavors complement each other in a pleasing faction

Cons:

- The small size of the corn puffs can make for annoyingly complicated eating experience as you try to pinch multiples of them between your fingers.

- Some might wish for something spicier over all

Lay’s Max Craquant Saveur Cheeseburger

 

          It would seem Cheeseburger chips are the new genre to match, as since I first tried out the Dorito’s variety in the summer of 2010, I was surprised to discover Lay’s own Cheeseburger chips in Paris, of all places.  Apparently the idea has appeal, even though it was in France that a militant farmer activist used his tractor to demolish a McDoanld's in protest of the American invasion of crap food in the land of haute cuisine (although on the less symoblic level, it involved a dispute over trade tarifs on Roquefort cheese and genetically modified beef, which definitely has shades of the opening of Episode I The Phantom Menace).  Just like banning Valentine’s Day in Malaysia, incidents like this are really proof of the seduction of debased foreign values- the purveyors of traditional culture go forth with pitchforks to cleanse those attracted to corrupt outsider values (or food), but low tastes can only but prevail in the end.

This McDonald's in construction was
mysteriously burned down in the town
of Voreppe after the residents compla-
ined that it would smell bad.  Lesson
to draw from this: use deodorant in
France if you love life.

            As I have mentioned before, I’ve never actually been a fan of fast-food style hamburgers since I stopped being of the age to care about the ‘free’ toys that came with the Happy Meals.  (Interestingly enough, there is a lawsuit in California seeking to ban McDonald’s from including toys in their Happy Meals!)The real thing, made at a local hamburger joint, or better yet, grilled at home, is by far superior.  And yet, just like my experience with the Cheeseburger Doritos, I found the rainbow of hamburger-associated flavors irresistibly nostalgic and delightful in its color and vibrance.

            Lay’s chips are on ruffled potato chips, which make for a significantly different eating experience than the Doritos.  Whereas Doritos nachos are basically all flavoring, with these you can still taste the potato underneath the flavors.  Fortunately, the potato crisps are pretty good quality, being thicker and crunchier than average.  I had initially feared that using potato-chips instead of nacho chips would dilute the cheeseburger flavor, but actually it had the effect of making the chips easier to eat at length by dialing down the intensity of the hamburger-seasoning.

Americans are so bad
at lighting fires that we
we grow suspcious of
barbecued meat that
doesn't taste of petroleum.

            Still, the flavoring is basically why you’d be interested in these chips, and I’m happy to report that they deliver a powerful taste of ketchup, pickles, onions and mustard supported by a subtle but comforting aroma of fire-grilled beef.  (You can practically taste the lighter fluid!)  Obviously the vinegary aspect present in mustard and ketchup are pretty much mutually reinforcing, but that in no way diminishes the uncanniness of the emulation.  Nicely enough, the ingredient lists includes actual tomato, garlic, vinegar, onions, mustard seed, and green peppers, so it looks like they didn't reduce everything to molecularly bonded aromas as one might expect.  The only notable omission when compared to the Cheeseburger Doritos, is the lack of actual cheese flavor, which is indeed rather odd for a cheeseburger-flavored product.  Clearly they were marketing on the ‘concept’ of being Cheeseburger flavored, even though these are in fact ‘Hamburger flavored.’ Now if they only get around to the kebab-flavored variety, I will be perfectly happy.

            So in summary, chalk another one up to the chemists in the employ of multi-national food factories, these chips were evocative of meat, condiments, and vegetables all at once and generally of good quality, offering an interesting and generally easier to eat alternative to Dorito’s praise-worthy rendition of the same concept.  So, if while overseas you feel a need to dip into some hamburger-nostalgia chips, don’t worry- the French do too, and have that covered for you.

Stars: 3/4

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- Excellent burger emulation full of the taste of mustard, ketchup, pickles, and onions

- Nice grilled meat aroma in the back ground

- Thick, crunchy potato crisps of above average quality

Cons:

- No cheese flavor

- Some might prefer the slightly more intense flavor of the Doritos Cheeseburger Nachos

Tim’s Cascade Snacks Hawaiian Kettle Style Chips

Available in Canada, Japan, South Korea, Taiwan and United States of Alaska, Arizona, California, Colorado, Hawaii, Idaho, Montana, Nevada, New Mexico, Oregon, Texas, Utah, Washington, Wyoming

Lady viewers should be
pleased to observe that
both the male and the
female figures on the
packaging offer a most
tempting aspect.

Like a big thick novel with a slow beginning, my initial reaction to the Hawaiian Kettle Style Chips was underwhelming.  Yes, the prose is nice, but not too much is happening- meandering anthropological notes are made, a birthday is described full of social nuances of subtle significance, you find yourself wading through some obscure passages referring obliquely to events in an earlier story.  But then, about 100 pages in, Ringwraiths are stabbing you with their death blades, magical water-horses are summoned by elven lords, and a kraken lurking in a pond trys to snag your foot for an early lunch, and you’re sucked into a thrilling ride you can’t drop.  Likewise, the Hawaiian Kettle chips make a slight impression on first taste, but rapidly build up to a fiery epic.

Not a photoshop.

Now, these would be my first ‘Hawaiian flavored’ chips, (in fact, it would appear the company makes several varieties of Hawaiian chips), and I must admit the idea is intriguing in a good kind of way, despite my aversion to seafood.  Besides seafood, of course, my ill-informed American mind has been trained by just about every major pizza chain ever to associate Hawaiian cuisine with ham and pineapple.  Now as it turns out, when we say Hawiian’s are into ‘ham’ we actually mean ‘spam’, and Wikipedia helpfully informs us that Hawaii is “the second largest consumer of Spam in the world, right behind Guam”, and helpfully lists all of the peculiar local varieties of SPAM-based cuisine.  This fact I first gleaned from some French students who had studied in Hawaii, reminiscing nostalgically about all the spam they used to eat- surreal!  As spam was first introduced into Hawaii by the military during World War II (when off shore fishing was restricted and meat became scarce), we can well conclude that the after effects of that terrible conflict are even deeper than we ever suspected.

Anyway, you can see that I am already well intrigued by the concept of 'Hawaiian' chips.  On the outside, they are indeed quite clearly quality kettle-cooked chips, nicely textured and bubbly, thickly coated with rich orange spices.  The individual crisps are on the smaller size, however, and they seemed to be relatively fragmented, but as my ‘review copy’ was mailed to me from the United States and over the Atlantic, that may be a result of the over-sea travel and compression into a narrow box!

           

The sort of book that inspires
admiration and dread in equal
measure.

Now upon my first bite, I was left with that ‘thick classic novel’ sensation- the high quality trimmings are clearly there, but the actual flavor is a bit dull- basically a classy but restrained typical barbecue flavoring.  However, as I began to help myself more crisps, it felt like somebody dialed up the contrast to 11 and suddenly I was tasting ultra-violet flavors that emerged from the ether like void spectres materializing from the superheated depths of the Mutara Nebula.  The spiciness quickly ramped up to glowing but comfortable blaze like a hot bath, the sugar and the salt began fighting a blood battle on my tongue leaving only me the ultimate victor, and underneath it all was a nice bedrock of peanut oil.  So, all in all, sweeter and spicier chips than one would have expected at first blush, and also very reminiscent of Utz’s Kettle Classic Smokin’ Sweet Barbecue chips for those East Coasters among us (which I also highly recommend, and will perforce review in detail at some point in the enigmatic mists of the future.)

But do they taste Hawaiian, you ask?  Well, not dramatically, and the ingredient list on the back yields no obviously Polynesian influences, nor any hint of canned meat.  And yet, as I delved deeper into the tiger-colored madness, I detected faint tones of sour-sweetness that reminded me distinctively- yes!- of pineapple.  The pineapple flavor is definitely more of an occasional flavor note then part of the chorus as it were, but the inclusion of ‘citrus flavors’ on the ingredient list suggest to me that I am not tasting placebo-pineapple. 

Basically, it’s a cool idea executed with restraint- perhaps they could have been more bold with the ‘Hawiian’ element, but in so doing they would have moved away from the more reliable mass-market appeal of the barbecue flavor to something more experimental (and pineapple-flavored.)

Just like this, if she were also on fire.

Still, back to the basics: these are well-textured Kettle chips with a sweet barbecue flavor that starts out timid, but with a little patience and careful prodding, will step out onto the dance room floor (of your mouth) and show off its true colors in a whirling spicy hot cavalcade that will leave you panting for more.  There is a nice little Hawaiian pineapple accent thrown in the deal, but the main show is quite enough to please all by itself.

Stars: 3/4

Spiciness Rating: Moderate-Hot (hot near the bottom of the bag)

Pros:

- rich sweet barbecue flavor builds up to a rewarding and spicy climax

- did I mention that these are barbecue chips that are actually spicy?

- smokey peanut oil undertones are pleasure all by themselves

- pineapple notes add a hint of island-citrus to the barbecue mix

- well textued Kettle crisps

Cons: (or more like caveats in this case)

- though the crisps are thick, they are also very damp with oil, and not as crunchy as some might prefer

- the flavor takes time to fully present itself and does not offers its full rewards on the first few bites (especially near the top of the bag where flavoring is less dense)

- individual crisps tend to be relatively small and fragmented

- the chips shy away from deeply exploring the whole Hawaiian-pineapple concept