Crusticroc Snack Balls Jalapeño-Cheddar

After immense difficulty
I finally found a website
with a pic of the bag
titled Sack Balls .

I’m juvenile enough to find any junk food called ‘snack balls’ automatically hilarious, and of course, detailing that they are made out of spicy cheese is an open invitation to sophisticated humor of the South Park variety.  The Buck Rogers style retro Sci-Fi title adds a delightful kitsch factor to what I can only anticipate to be yet another mediocre product from discount snack-food producer Crusti Croc (a store brand of Lidl.)

If every episode of South Park featured
mutant laser-spear toting sea otters
mounted on ostriches in the ruins of
NYC, I would become a regular viewer.

But nein, the canny German proletariat-feeders at Lidl have in fact formulated an eccentric work of mad (though by no means refined) genius, not unlike their well-documented plot to raise a zombie army to win World War II.  The Corn-Puff Balls are extra-large- about an inch in diameter each- are satisfyingly lumpy and crunchy, and feature a reasonable amount of chewy inner density to make for a snack which floods the mouth with pleasing flavor.

Agent Blaskowicz's escape from Castle
Wolfenstein played a critical role
in the defeat of the Nazi Zombietruppen.

            Now the seasoning itself is no way ‘life-like’ or ‘sophisticated’, and yet is ‘powerful spicy’, as they say in Gone with the Wind, and quite effectively infused with jalapeño.  Unlike far too many other snack foods, there is no lack of flavor, and an extra salty, super-picante experience awaits your mouth for each crackling snack ball you suck into your saliva-gushing maw like a Tyranid Mawloc. 

Mawlocs may not mouth off as much as
your teenage son or a Sandworm of Arrakis
but their gullets do seem to moistly slaver
more gratuitously.  Painted by C-Bomb13.

Unfortunately, the flavor-sensation is rather marred by an undeniable degree of over-saltiness, and fondness for drinking salt water may be a prerequisite for extended eating of these cash-concession corn-puff confections.  The saltiness also rather obscures the cheese flavoring, but overall I found this shortcoming of the Snack Balls rather tolerable when weighed against the lightning those joy-spheres were packing, and recommend them as a flavorful though crass diversion for a night’s entertainment.

Of course one could actually make real
jalapeño cheese balls if one wanted to
as pictured from this recipe by Kooksfood.

Stars: 2½/4

Spiciness Rating: Hot

Pros:

- Nice extra-large corn-puff balls are thick and crunchy

- Flavorful and spicy

Cons:

- Salty balls are too salty

Vico’s Saveur Fromage Bleu et Crème

         When I was little, I was fascinated with Roquefort cheese.  My parents warned me it might be too intense for me, which naturally heightened my interest, as well as the name, which brought to mind some sort of formidable rocky castle.  Fortunately for me, Roquefort is indeed strongly flavorful- though not ‘spicy’, it indeed packs a certain salty punch, wedded to its creamy texture.


Roquefort, the Batman of blue cheeses,
exclusively grown from its very own
mutant bacteria in the moist  caves of
the village of Roquefort, France.

Most Americans are familiar with ‘Blue cheese’ from its use in salad dressing and the occasional ritzy hamburger sauce, but of course it has many other applications, (just try it spread llike butter on bread, it’s great!)  While we Americans have been quick to dip Buffalo wings in some bleu, I hadn’t really seen blue cheese chips until I found a bag on the store shelves by Vico, and I asked myself, “why did it take so long?”  As cheese flavorings are so ubiquitous on the crisps, it’s wonder they took so long to go from cheddar  orange to blue- the movie industry has long realized it’s a hot combo.

Vico decided to keep it classy and not use any artificial colorants, which I have to admit is slightly disappointing but probably prudent, so you will be looking at plain blonde-yellow chips upon tearing open the bag.  Vico has consistently impressed me with their crisps, and these ones were enormous and full of delicious air bubbles.  Staring at the bisected half of one of the chips, I felt I was beholding the desiccated husk of a pint-sized whale, so expansive and bulbous with air bubbles were the chip’s proportions.  Like other Vico products, they proved to be extra hard and crunchy.

On second thought, that metaphor may
not be as tasty looking as it sounded...

But what of the flavor?  I would characterize it as cunning in its mimickery- yet sadly insufficient.  One bite of the blond crisps will unleash the familiar salty aromas of blue cheese- oh yes!- mixed with a milder creamy aroma, but then there is no follow through, the taste does not last.  So though the experience is evocative, the flavoring has not been applied in sufficient quantities to make it linger memorably.

Roquefort is not the only French blue
cheese- the above pictured Bleu
d'Auvergne has a butterier texture,
and incorporates rye-bread mold
for a mellower flavor.

Overall, I would still recommend giving these a try because the blue cheese flavor is cool and unique and deserves to be expanded upon; as it was, I was tasting about 2/3 potato chip to 1/3 blue cheese, a proportion which must be improved.  Vico should still be commended for shoring up this obvious void in France’s national chip portfolio, and we can only hope they and others will continue to refine the concept to more ambitious and assertive ends.  Plus: anyone interested in making some Camembert chips?

Stars: 2½

Spiciness: None

Pros:

- Gets the salty flavor of blue cheese nearly right

- Large crunchy chips with delightfully bulging air bubbles

Cons:

- Flavoring lacking necessary density and intensity, does not dominate over the potato-chip flavor

Tyrrell’s Sea Salt & Cider Vinegar

           Tyrrell’s Sea Salt & Cider Vinegar chips have been staring at me from their lofty perch on the store shelves for months since I installed myself in France, sniffing with disdain at my penny-pinching ways.  Each time I glared up at them, my eyes would go red with a mixture of envy and burning class resentment, as befits any proper English story.  The aristocratic Eton graduate (ahem, “English Eccentric”) on the cover, smiling drolly into his cup, is no doubt laughing at my peasant-like ways.

            A friend of mine, however, possessed the unthinkable fortunes necessary to set a bag out on the gaming table one evening, and I was forced to admit that the Tyrell’s chips every bit deserve their elevated price.  It’s as if the nobility were born with magical powers and super-human strength; these chips deserve to rule.

If Christopher Lee were
 the Prince of Wales, you can bet
the paparazzi would be afraid to
photograph him dressed up like a
servant of a totalitarian regime.
Hereditary monarchy would be a much
more persuasive political system if
aristocrats were all born more like
Count Dooku.

            The bag claims the chips are ‘hand cooked’, and the quality of the slices is so impressive, you can be damn well sure that a line full of orphaned children is carefully slicing them at the conveyor belt while Charles Dickens hovers in the background, taking notes for his next novel.  Unlike any other chip I’ve reviewed before, you can still see the brown potato skin rimming each individual round.  The crisps are extra-thick (up to 2 millimeters!), complexly shaped, vary from small to medium-large in size, and are utter delight to crunch.  The visual appeal is only further magnified by the abundance of salt crystals plainly visible on each slice.

But do you really appreciate them being
"hand cooked" when it's their hands
doing the cooking?

            This brings us to the seasoning, which is in a word, magnificent.  The English share with Americans a fondness for all things fried and battered, and these chips clearly draw some inspiration from the vinegar accompanying a traditional fish’n’chips ( 'fries' to use the American term).  The cider vinegar is sweet and pervasive, but a lot less acrid than other vinegar chips; it is complemented beautifully by the large salty crystals artfully sprinkled across each slice, which manage to deliver a piquantly brackish sea-sting that lingers tantalizingly on the tongue without overwhelming the chips as a whole.  (I’m very critical of overly salty chips, but these most definitely cannot be counted among their number.)  In other words, you can distinctly taste the potato, the vinegar, and the salt as separate phenomena with each bite, which makes for a delightfully pluralistic eating experience.  All the while, the blend of seasoning is carefully balanced between the poles of minimalism and excessive saturation.

Spirit Vinegar: the strongest variety
of vinegar (5-20% acid), traditionally
made out of sugar cane.  Also,
possibly, ectoplasm....

            The ingredients list is also so politically correct it should run for office: 100% natural ingredients, including 3 varieties of dried vinegar (cider, spirit (?), and malt), sea salt, apple powder, and rosemary extract.  But these are Tory chips, make no mistake, and properly represent those segments of the society that feel that the Magna Carta was one step too far towards the proletarian abyss.  That’s all right with me, though; chips this good deserve their exaggerated prices, and I must confess I can’t readily think of any American chips which are quite as classy as these- but that’s only proper.

Stars: 4/4

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- Amazing thick-cut kettle cooked crisps that retain their brown potato skins on the edges

- Delightful sweet vinegar flavor which excites the tongue without stinging too much

- Flavorful salt crystals that deliver motes of savory sensation without dominating the flavor

- Natural ingredients, free of Gluten and MSG!

Cons:

- Price?

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

CrustiCroc Soufflee Gout Bacon (Baconsmaak)

Today we’re back to our favorite (as in only) local German discount food chain, Lidl, and their own take on puffed wheat with bacon.  Crusti Croc’s approach can be described as ribbed, not for your pleasure, but in an endearing yet creepy attempt to make the crunchy wheat-puffs display the red and white stripes of a strip of bacon.  The effect isn’t entirely visually displeasing, leaving you to imagine a dried out bit of bacon cooked in fat and puffed up like a balloon, but it’s still a little strange eating pieces of wheat that have been dressed up as meat a la Lady Gaga. 

Self-objectification raised to a juicy new
height: triump or tragedy? Just don't
ask Carol Adams...

Yes, you heard that correctly, they are made up of 74% wheat, which officially makes them closer to cake batter and breakfast cereal than most other chips out there.  Healthwise, they are a little healthier than your average chip, and they do crunch satisfyingly in the mouth and have sufficient density to satisfy, unlike some notably airier and brittle snacks I have had in the past.

In my youth, I was very meticulous about keeping the
syrup strictly on the pancakes.  Now, though, I am all
in favor of the syrup tsunami.

What of the flavor?  I would say they got the basic salty bacon flavor down right, while including just enough sweetness not to fall into the trap that ensared Bacon flavored Bugles as thoroughly as a hungry Chewbacca in an Ewok trap.  It’s still a little salty, and with prolonged eating they might start to taste like generic corn puffs endowed with saline, but with a little smokiness and some sugar, this bacon is closer to that sweet breakfast experience than other flavors out there.  In fact the crisps smell very pleasantly sweet and smokey, like a hot fried American breakfast doused in maple syrup just waiting you in the pan.

You had to add all that salt, and
just look at the result...

So though I was very dubious about these bacon-cross-dressing puffs from across the eastern border, I found them entirely pleasing as a light snack, even if they aren’t remarkably sophisticated, and the disturbing meat-stripes may grown on you over time.

Stars: 2 ½

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- Reasonably charming smoky bacon flavor

-Adequate density for a puffed wheat snack

Cons:

- Flavoring is not too complex and may bug the salt averse

Lay’s Limited Edition Patatje Joppie (Joppie Sauce Chips)

           The Dutch eat their fries with mayonnaise.  This was something I learned in a tiny restaurant called Amsterdam Falafel, located in the hip bar-lined Adams Morgan district of Washington DC.  In addition to having the best variety of falafel toppings and sauces we have so far seen anywhere, (though I would later discover that the many falafel vendors in Paris’s rue des Rosiers still made better falafel balls), they make excellent fries which are accompanied with little cups of ketchup and mayonnaise.  Now, I have never been a fan of mayonnaise, and always request that it be omitted from any burger or sandwiches I plan to eat, yet the mayonnaise that accompanied the fries was a little thinner than the snot-like consistency of a jar of Hellmans, and was infused with an enjoyable lemon aroma.

            When I finally had the opportunity to visit Amsterdam in December of 2012, I learned that the Dutch actually appreciate a whole variety of sauces accompanying their fries, which they buy from sidewalk vendors served in a paper cone with an enormous dollop of thick sauce in the corner and a cute little plastic fork to eat with and mitigate the inevitable sauce drippage.  The fries were large, hot, and delightfully crispy, and I was happy to try out several sauces.

Yes, there are fries underneath the sauce...the
yellowish glob on  the right is the Joppiesause.

The traditional lemony-mayonnaise proved fun as ever, but on the recommendation of one of the vendors, I also tried something called ‘Joppisause.  This thick pale-yellow sauce proved to be a unique local hybrid of mayonnaise, yellow American-style mustard, onions, and curry for a tasty flavor that exceeds the delights of its constituent components.  Developed by a cafeteria owner named Joppie, the sauce has become popularized across Low Country-wide in the early 2000s, and I would definitely put it on any visitor’s culinary checklist.

            You can imagine my delight when I discovered that Lay’s had released Joppiesause flavored potato chips in a unique Dutch special edition, and immediately snatched a bag for analysis.  It was decorated in a black and yellow pattern that immediately brought to mind the “XXX for Dummies” series of books that was so popular during the 90s, but the product inside was well calibrated to the taste of connoisseurs in my estimation.

They have one for everything
these days...(Just read the fine print)

I found that the folks at Lay’s had captured with perfect accuracy what makes Joppiesause so ingenius- the way that the piquant flavors of mustard seed, onion, and curry spices blend with mild mayonnaise resulting to result in a smooth and creamy flavor.  Well after the visit, the chips so perfectly evoked the sauce that I’m now on the look out for a Dutch fry shop where I can obtain more of it!

            The potato slices themselves are large and crunchy, about as good as can be expected of anything that’s not kettle cooked, with wide gently sloping surface largely free of air bubble or visible seasoning.  (Though normally an advocate of complex textures, I was not bothered by the absence of bubbles, and in general I found the chips' broad expanses crunchy and pleasing.)  So, in short, I advise any visitor’s in Holland to first try Joppiesaus, then try the chips.  Whether you want to serve yourself baked with your fries is up to you. 

Stars: 3½/4

Spiciness Rating: Very Mild

Pros:

- Perfectly evokes the unique Dutch sauce’s blend of mayonnaise, mustard, onion, and curry

- Large above-average quality potato rounds

Cons:

- Hard to find outside of Holland

- Nothing to please the spice addicted or texture-fanatics

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

Doritos Fajita Flavored

           Yes, you guessed it; it’s that special time of the month where I review yet another seasoning that’s riffing off of the stuff they served in your school cafeteria, (“stuff” being the absolutely most polite of the words I considered inserting into that sentence.)  And, as in previous reviews, despite the dubious food items being imitated, I can’t help but enjoy the obvious effort that went into painstakingly recreating the nuances of cafeteria/Taco Bell style Tex-Mex, and the nostalgia captured therein.

Real fajitas...

            That’s not to say Fajitas aren’t a fully legitimate food item in and of themselves.  Properly done, they are an extra fun cross between a burrito and taco, with long slices of grilled meat stuffed into a pita alongside with the sweet and sour flavors of salsa, sour cream, grilled peppers, tomatos, and onions.  But we are not talking about those sort of fajitas.

...and Taco Bell. Which looks tastier?
I was dismayed to see these happily
devoured by my old 4th Grade class for their
'nutritionally balanced'  school lunches.  Some
things haven't changed too much  since I was a
 kid, as Supersize Me  (at 7:06) atests.

            No, these are the fajitas I used to get in my elementary school cafeteria, and that I can still get today in just about any Taco Bell, stuffed full of ground beef and refried beans dripping with salty oil and smothered in cheese (because America is the place where everything is done BIG, our approach to incorporating melted cheese owes more to the mass artillery barrages of World War I than the swift surgical strikes of the modern era.) A little packet of ‘salsa’ is usually provided on the side, and maybe some onions or lettuce is thrown in the ground-up mix, hapless conscripts drawn from more gentile cuisine, but basically your mouth is in for an oil and salt bath.  To dress up the flavor, a generic Mexican seasoning is thrown in, giving the ground beef a modicum of flavor, though unfortunately adding to the already bursting salt quota. 

            Now, I will guiltily admit that didn’t sound entirely bad to me, and when I was kid it seemed pretty decent (if not exactly great.)  Plenty of people still enjoy their Taco Bell today, and whom am I in my Chipotle-catered ivory tower to look down upon them?  Even the dedicated snob occasionally feels the allure of lower tastes, even when they have a superior alternative ready at hand.

This is where I want to live when I grow up.

            So,  for those school cafeteria and Taco Bell lovers out there, these chips nail the flavor of those greasy quasi-fajitas.  The flavorist went well beyond tossing on some generic south western spices, going to the trouble of painstakingly recreating the aroma of the refried beans, the smothering cheese, and above all the pungency of those salty Old El Paso-style Mexican seasonings to the T.  Instead of treating a lowly subject with the contempt it deserved, they approached it as if it were a true art and thereby elevated beyond its station, just as Tarantino would seek to find Truth and Beauty in a film about Nazi werewolf dominatrixes.

"Werewolf Women of the SS evokes the
deeper themes of self-alienation and the
creation of the 'other' by juxtaposing its
eroticized lupine protagonists with the
tyrannical socio-political order their
howling orgies of violence help unleash."

            Did I even bother mentioning these were Doritos?  Purely incidental information, as Flavoring is God. The crisps are visibly salted with more seasoning than the standard Dorito, including decent-sized chunks of black pepper.  Predominating are salty south-western spices (composed of cumin, paprika, garlic, black pepper), which are for once suitably spicy; underneath is the flavor of refried beans, close behind is a mild hint of melted cheddar cheese, and far in the distance, a faint taste of those forlorn tomatoes tossed in for authenticity’s sake, just like the diced vegfgies contemptuously chucked into a Taco Bell Chalupa.

            So, Fajita Doritos are surprisingly tasty and evocative, even if what they evoke is incredibly greasy and salty and lacks the elements of grilled meat, vegetables, and sophisticated sauces we look to from genuine Mexican cuisine.  The moderate spicy piquancy and the uncanny flavor emulation with the spices combine to make these Doritos an enjoyable experience, although I should reiterate that the salt averse should probably stay away.  Though the subject matter may not really be worth imitating, when it’s done this well, it can still excite the interest of nostalgic taste buds.

Stars: 2½ /4

Spiciness: Moderate

Pros:

- Clever flavor emulation brings to life the flavor of greasy cafeteria cooking and drive-through Taco Bell

- Diverse mixture of spices and elements

Cons:

- Very salty

- Leaves one yearning for seasonings with higher aspirations

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

Monoprix Tortillas Enroulées

          The first chips I bought in France were Tomato-Basil chips, but since then it’s been a long dry haul in the category of Italian-inspired seasoning, until the other day my favorite half-elf snagged a small bag of them for a picnic out on the Buttes de Chaumont.

            Those familiar with my earlier review of the Tortillas Enroulee Fromage should recognize the format; basically a Nacho corn tortilla round wrapped into a cylinder evocative of those cute little cookies you get with your coffee.  (Incidentally, in addition to being known as pirouettes, these cookies are also apparently called ‘cigarettes’, which I guess would sound sweet and delicious only to a Parisian- the air is fresh indoors here, I swear.)  The rolled tortilla chip format might sound gimmicky, but it’s actually crunches very pleasingly in the mouth, and is still usable with thicker dips like guacamole or cheese dip.  They seemed like exactly the sort of thing that would go well with tomato-basil flavoring.

Cigarette smoke from philosophy students
and fashion models makes up 20% of Paris's
atmosphere. Unfortunately, all the coffee
does not also contribute to the odor.

            Unfortunately, I must report with a heavy heart that if this is a tomato flavoring, it is a very sad and watery tomato.  Or maybe canned tomatoes, tasting more of tin and iron than juicy vegetable.  The rods are sweet, kind of like a sun-dried tomato, but it is a sickly half-hearted kind of sweet lacking in panache or self-confidence, and there’s a weird sort of celery-salt like flavor that I imagine is supposed to be like basil, but I assure you, rarely anything good can come of celery salt.  It’s a kind of generic vegetably mashup with a sweet element on top, a sort of feebler V8.

            I wouldn’t say they were inedible, because you still have the basic sweet and salty to carry you through, but the vegetable flavor tastes just a little off, like blood in your mouth (maybe it’s the iron from that canned tomato flavor!).  They certainly don’t taste like tomato, (though to be fair, ‘tomato powder’ is listed on the ingredients list right after sugar and salt), but worse is that it just doesn’t taste good.  Still, the fundamentally satisfying crunchiness of the underlying rolled-up-tortilla chips save these from being a total waste, but anyone looking for a good tomato flavored chip should look elsewhere, and anyone intrigued by tortilla cigarettes/pirouettes/whatevers should probably buy the cheese-flavored variety.

Blood flavored tomato chips?  And I
they don't even need to be stalked and
seduced?

Stars: 1½/4

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- Basic rolled-over corn tortilla round format is fun to crunch in your mouth

- Flavoring at least manages to offer a semi-adequate salty-sweet balance

Cons:

- Flavoring is still awful in most respects, failing to taste like actual tomato-basil, sun dried tomatoes, or good in any respect