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’

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

Chio Exxtra Chips Tejszines Mediterran Fuszeres

I was only able to translate two words in title of these ruffled chips- Meditteranean and Seasoning- and I'm not sure what ‘Tejszines’ means.  However I can pretty much confirm that these ruffled potato chips are meant to emulate a Meditteranean yogurt/cream and parsley sauce, probably along the lines of Greek tzatziki sauce.  If you have perchance eaten a Gyro, you will recall favorably the white yogurt sauce with flecks of green parsley that is liberallyed soaked upon the hot hybrid lamb-and-beef meat. 

Some thicker tzatziki sauces include
juicy thin chunks of cucumber.

Bottom line, the sauce is yummy and yogurty-sour; though basically uncomplicated, and often infused with garlic, lemon, and salt for extra punch.  I was charmed by the idea of chips flavored along those lines, and found that Chio’s rendition in the seasoning to be clever and evocative.  You can clearly taste both the mildly sour-creamy aspects of the sauce as well as herbal flashes of parsley and oregano.

The tzatziki seasoning is effectively lathered upon ruffled chips which proved to be thick but not crunchy- they exhibited a more pliable ‘soft-styrofoam’ texture which, though not nearly as bad as it sounds, will disappoint anyone who values voluminous crackle-crunch sounds in their eating experience.  The crisps also proved to be amazingly large- one of the chips we found was so long it can only be described as pornographic.

Not a photoshop.  That was at least
5 inches long- the chip, I mean.

These chips are part of the ‘Exxtra’ product line, but though I liked the seasoning, I did not find that it was boldly applied- they could probably have doubled the quantity and it would have tasted just right.  Starting with a flavoring that’s already going to be intrinsically mild (yogurt sauce with parsley) and I think it’s hard to justify the ‘Exxtra’ title, about as appropriate as a documentary “Badass Xtreme style English Gardening.”

"We put the extreme carnage back into
traditional gardening!"

The mildness aside, however, I enjoyed the unique flavor they were going for and the satisfying size and thickness of the ruffled crisps, and they proved a delightful supplement to an evening picnic in a Budapest park.

Stars: 2½

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- Evocative and unique flavoring

Cons:

- Could use more seasoning; does not merit the ‘Exxtra’ label

- Some may be dismayed by the low crunch-factor

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

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

Route 11 Potato Chips Chesapeake Crab

Both my parents and my partner have long crusaded to bring an end to my sinful non-seafood-eating ways, and their latest plot was to send me crab-flavored chips, reasoning that even if I could resist eating seafood chips, I couldn’t resist eating something my mom had sent over the Atlantic.  Well, they reasoned rightly, and I could only dutifully proceed with the loathsome consumption entailed therein.

I spent a year growing up in Maryland when I was young and four more years of my life in DC (which is basically split between Maryland and Virginia), and over all that time I’ve conspicuously avoided a uniquely local contribution to snack food: Crab-flavored chips.  Marylanders are crazy about crabs, and love nothing more than indulging in a barbarous orgy of crab-dismemberment, preferably in a group involving family and friends- ripping off limbs, literally hammering the shell away with little mallets, tearing out the grotesque yellow glow-in-the-dark viscera, and sucking up the succulent white crab-meat amidst the broken bits of sea-dwelling arthropod exoskeleton. 

All before the eyes of innocent children, who are even encouraged to participate.

Think Lil Kim cutting bitches in woman's prison.
It's as if the aliens in Starship Troopers
were being sliced up by berserk marines as
opposed  to the other way around.

            Yes, you may have gathered I am not a great fan of this custom, (nor seafood eating in general, as I have previously alluded), but to a Marylander, nothing quite approaches the pure bliss of crab eating short of making love on a summer beach, with or without crabs.  I do not disparage Marylanders in making this observation, as my French father became a convert to their ways, and to this day fondly sports a giant photograph of Maryland crab with a beer can crushed between its pincers in his university office.

I wasn't kidding about the seasoning being 'caked'.  Plus:
the yellow crab viscera.  "The horror..." as Colonel Kurtz
(aka Marlon Brando) would whisper... Illustrative photos
courtesy of Insatiably Healthy.

           Cue the surprise revelation: ‘crab’ chips are actually ‘crab seasoning’ chips.  No, I was not entirely taken by surprise by this, but my anxiety about the degree of sea-foodishness of the flavoring has been settled for now- these chips are meant to simulate the red seasoning powder that is liberally caked on the crabs (and I use the word caked with little exaggeration.)  Now, for all my negative childhood associations with the seasoning, ‘Old Bay spice’ (as in Chesapeake Bay), is actually rather similar to Cajun spices in my experience, and is an intriguing pretty red color.  The spice has been sufficiently popularized around Maryland state that they pretty much apply it to everything, which is why you get the ‘Crab Chips’.

The Old Bay seasoning- rumor has it
it they mix in real Old Bay sand from
the sea floor for that authentic maritime
flavor.

The overwhelming flavor of Bay spice?  Celery salt!  Now, I am also not a big fan of celery salt (as an upcoming review of Monoprix’s ‘Tomato’ flavored Tortillas Enroulee will discuss), but here it is tastefully applied and blended with enough other spices, most obviously red and black pepper, paprika, cloves, and allspice, that I felt myself genuinely compelled to enjoy them.  Note that the traditional ‘Old Bay’ spice incorporates all of those flavors, in addition to cardamom, nutmeg, mace, mustard seed, bayleaf, and ginger, so there’s likely even more seasonings going on under the hood.  (The ingredients list rather curtly lists ‘spices’ and ‘paprika’, which is a curious distinction…)  You may have intiuited that the chips are spicy based on the ingredients, and they do in fact ignite a definite back-of-the-throat burn, but nothing too intense- just the right level to please without going over into runny-nose territory.

The crisps themselves are small (between 1 ½ and 2 inches in diameter) but very high quality- thick and crunchy (the French word ‘craquant’, cracking comes to mind), baked dark brown onthe edges, colored a natural orange color by the seasonings, and sprinkled with large flecks of dried green herbs (celery I assume?).  While I usually prefer larger crisps, the quality level of the texture and baking (which was apparently done using peanut oil) interested me in trying other Route 11 crisps.  The chips themselves are also wheat- and gluten-free, and contain no trans fats, though the calorie count is par for the course when it comes to chips.

After the VMI cadets repelled
a Union attack at New Market
in the Shenandoah Valley, the
Union Army retaliated by burning
down the school, thereby realizing
the arson-laden dreams of my
childhood.

Route 11 apparently comes from Shenandoah Valley, Virginia which is pretty uambiguously inland from the coast, being between two great mountain ranges- besides being beautifully scenic, the valley was the sight of a number of smaller-scale Civil War battles.  Clearly, though, the coastal influences have forced even 'real Virginians' to cater to the coastal tastes of 'Communist Country', as McCain’s brother once put it,  with sterling results.

So, for a flavoring concept that I was never very comfortable with to begin with, I was rather impressed by the quality of Route 11’s crab chips.  I can’t say they’ve converted me to Crab seasoning or Crab-eating, but they demonstrated their relative virtues- I’ll keep a more open mind about other Bay-spice flavored snacks in the future- impressing me both by their mix of seasoning and the excellent crunchiness and texture of the crisps.

Stars: 2 ½

Spiciness: Moderate

Pros:

- While I’m no expert about crab seasoning, it definitely smells and looks right!

- The seasoning is excellently distributed, and an artful blend of many different flavors

- Crunchiness, visual appeal, and texture of the crisps is superb

Cons:

- The Celery salt-averse may find it less to their taste, as would those who want a 'fishier' flavor

- Crisps are fairly small

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

Wai Lana Lime Chili

We now come to the final chapter of what has been my epic odyssey exploring Wai Lana’s line of mysterious Yogi concocted health chips.  The penultimatechapter in this chip-reviewing epic was dark indeed, leaving me in doubt whether the last bag could possibly prevail in the face of the stomach-disturbing past.  But I should call this last review the Return of the Yogi, because this final episode establishes the crisps are back in awesome light-saber slashing form, and finally deliver as many colors of flavor as there were spaceships in the Battle of Endor.  In short, these are the Thai-flavored crisps I was waiting for.

There were alot of ships.  So many
the rebels ran out of colors to name
their squadrons after.

As creepy as it will appear if you are in a public space, I recommend smelling the inside of the bag upon opening.  You may sound like Darth Vader on a bad-breathmask day, but you won’t care because you will be inhaling the heady aromas of curried Thai cooking direct, and without a heat source.  Do remember to exhale, however.

Also, Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet...

As soon as you have been revived by your friends, you may observe that we are once again returning to the by now classic yucca chips made with tapioca flower, softly crunchy, reasonably large, and pleasantly dimpled for maximum saliva pooling pleasure.  The crispy semi-translucent wafers are covered with a gorgeous layer of red and green seasoning flanks, but unlike the Sweet Chili & Lime chips I tried earlier, you can actually taste it all as well.

Praxis- what happens when you exploit
the shit out of your planet.  Historical
note: Star Trek VI was the first movie
to use the 'blast ring' effect that has since
gone into general use and been needlessly
inserted into the Star Wars special edition.

By all petty gods of Lankhmar I swear that these chips are packed full of flavoring, hitting all the buttons at once in a flavor-xplosion the like of which has not been seen since the Klingon moon of Praxis exploded, forcing the Empire to make peace with the Federation.  Seriously, everything found in Thai cuisine has been thrown in here in a bag full of mind-blasting awesomeness: there are large sea-salt grains that deliver a savory shock as startling as pepper, there are rich brown morsels of cane sugar that offer an almost lyrical sweetness, there are multiple stinging spices (pepper among them) that enflame the tongue and sack the back of your throat as thoroughly as the staff responsible for the credits in Monty Python's the Holy Grail, and through it all, lime oil has been used with brilliant effectiveness to grant these chips the tangy aura of a dish full of Thai noodles covered in freshly squeezed lime juice.  A considerable number of supporting spices beyond those I just mentioned are also involved, including shallots and sesame seeds for certain, and what I guess to be curry.

You can practically taste the lime
juice on those noodles, making them
as slippery, sour, and slurpy as sex.

What is most commendable about the flavoring is the way the salt, sugar, and spices hit you in discrete clumps instead of a single homogenous flavor.  While sometimes I find such a distribution a cause for complaint, here it adds piquancy to the experience as you alternate between bites of sweetness, saltiness, and spiciness; the flavors are intense enough to stand on their own and last long enough in the mouth to overlap into the next bite.  The sour lime taste, by contrast, is consistent throughout the chips, and truly lovely (though a likely turn off for the sour-averse.)

These crisps feel like an epic conclusion and fitting reward for my previous exploration of the Wai Lana chips, and by far offer the best flavor-synthesis of those I have tried and the greatest diversity in seasonings I’ve had in a considerable time.  For anyone with a fondness for Thai cooking, or for any combination of intense and flavorful food, Irecommend this specific variety (so similarily labeled to the other flavors I’ve tried!) which shares clear parallels with Kettle Chips’ own opus in Thai-inspired Chips.  The Yogi finally took out the can of whoop-ass and showed what they were made of- spicy, sweet, and sour!

Stars: 3½

Spiciness Rating: Moderate-to-Spicy

Pros:

- Crisps are beautiful and agreeable to munch on, and you can actually taste the pretty seasonings on the crisps this time!

- A multitude of flavors and spices as diverse as the alien gangsters in Jabba's Palace

- Genuinenly spicy at times

- Lovely lime-oil flavor the beautiful constent in the curried cavalcade of spices and flavorings

Cons:

- If you don't appreciate sour or spicy, these are not for you.

Wai Lana Thai Curry and Lime

Like the disturbing surprise ending of a favorite TV show, today’s review marks the point where once pleasantly enjoyable series takes a completely out-of-character turn for the intensely dark.  And who could have seen it coming from so promising and upstanding a product as Wai Lana’s Thai Curry and Lime, made of yucca chips seasoned with coconut powder, shallot leaf, cane sugar, an array of curry seasonings?  Surely I should be handing out accolades and awards!  
 
The faithful emulation of the taste of bile in my mouth, however, is just a little too authentic.  In my many written excesses, I have never before stooped to describing my subjects as tasting like vomit, because by and large crisps rarely taste worse than uninspired and boring- crisps that are actually icky in some manner are few and far between.

No joke here: do yourself a favor and
obtain for your mouth an actual Thai curry.

Certainly, these new Wai Lana crisps enter the mouth with just as much promise as the earlier ones I reviewed, exuding a piquant aroma of curry and other assorted spices that, while unfashionable in their intensity, would seem to be precisely the sort of stronger and more authentic flavorings I have always passionately advocated.  The crisps are soft, crunchy, and mildly sweet making them a good compliment for the concept.  Yes, they are even spicy, burning pleasantly in the back of the throat, though I’m not sure that there’s any Lime flavoring to speak of from what I can taste.

As the seasonings percolate through your mouth, however, you realize at first that they are decidedly odd and off setting, and then suddenly they are odd and off-setting in a familiar way, reminiscent your mouth after that nauseatingly long car drive after the thanksgiving meal which didn’t quite set in your gut.  The burn at the back of your throat starts to seem less like some charming spice and more like the acrid sensation of stomach acids in attack mode, located north of where they should be.

 On the well-established principle that a rich and respected perpetrator should be offered superior consideration to a poor victim, I feel compelled to still award these chips a full star, even though I found myself shuddering at the thought of consuming even one more for the purely scientific purposes of this review.  The reason for my lenience: these do boldly go where no man has gone befor- attempt to deliver certain spicy sensations that are too extreme for my fragile western palette, but just because I can’t stand them doesn’t mean they mightn’t appeal to a person of more radical, or at least, curried tastes.  Those of you who think you can take it, give it a try and report back to me- or try eating durian.

Stars: 1/4

Spiciness: Moderate

Pros:

- Crisps are softly crunchy, offer excellent surface area

- Properly spicy as they well should be

- Authentic tasting seasonings

Cons:

- The seasonings end up tasting odd and off putting

- When combined with spicy sensation, the seasonings start to resemble bile

- No lime flavoring in evidence

Wai Lana Yogi Chips Sweet and Sour

I was rather expecting that there would be a certain consistency in my reviews of the Yogi Chips, and like reviewing Doritos, there would come to be little need to make note of the texture of the chips while all the variation would occur in terms of flavoring.  This illusion was pleasantly dispelled when I opened my bag of Sweet and Sour chips and discovered that they not only featured a different shape and consistency, but were also markedly more flavorful than my previous experience.

Asia's answer to chicken McNuggets.

Now, I’ve always been fond of Sweet andSour sauce (and soup!) in Asian cuisine.  Admittedly, if you order sweet and sour chicken, you will end up with chicken drenched in red sauce with perhaps a mild hint of a citrusy tang- what’s not to like?  The sour element tends to be underplayed, so it’s like eating shredded chicken or pork in a swimming pool of red syrup- so basically, sweet and sour chicken is Asia’s answer to McNuggets in ketchup.

Who doesn't like a steamy tart?

By contrast, when you open the bag with the smiling Polynesian looking woman, the odors sumptuously wafting up from its foil confines will inform you that these crisps bring the sour back into sweet and sour.  The tangy lemony smell is evocative of aforementioned gleaming red chicken puffing hot vapor on a plate before you like a steamy girlfriend, and tantalizes the nostrils of any one who enjoys a little tartness in their cuisine (or romantic partners).

The crisps share the same rice and tapioca base as the Sweet Chili & Lime chips I reviewed earlier, but are notably thicker and crunchier (in a good way) and shaped like small circular pototo crisps rather than the curled-rectangle Frito-forms I had expected from the earlier product.  While there was nothing wrong with the earlier type, the additional firmness does crackle more satisfyingly in the mouth and distinguishes the crisps from the soft textures of breakfast cereal, for good or ill.

Trivia question: Have you ever
spilled the Sweet and Sour sauce
in your Chinese take out, making a gory
mess of your Asian fast food?  If your
answer rhymes with 'mess' you're being
honest.

While there is no sparkly coating of spices like on the Sweet Chili and Lime chips, in its place you get a great deal more flavor!  The crisps taste mildly sweet at first, before blossoming on the tongue into a rising tide of tangy citrus like a tsunami wave of lemon juice.  The sourness is by no means overpowering, but does predominate over the sweeter aspects, to the likely disappointment of the sweet-and-sour-sauce-as-ketchup school, but making them more rewarding for those who appreciate citrus and or vinegar in their crispy snacks.  My wife suggested that they tasted like egg rolls dipped in sweet and sour sauce, which actually makes sense if you consider the commonalities between the crispy egg rolls and crunchy chipswith the tangy-sweet flavoring.

All in all, I rather liked these, though like actual sweet and sour sauce, the flavoring isn’t too subtle and doesn’t include many nuances other than that pleasant mouth-trip from mild-sweet to tangy-sour.  The crisps are robust and compliment the flavoring well, and I should emphasize that for all it leans on its citrusy aspects, it is not overpowering

Stars: 2½/4

Spiciness Rating: None

Pros:

- Tangy citrus aroma is not at all shy in announcing it gloriously tart presence

- Mildly sweet flavoring ushers in the sour and compliments it pleasantly

- Crisps are pleasantly crunchy and well shaped

Cons:

- True to the sauce it imitates, lacking in subtle nuances and spices

- Some might prefer a greater weight on the ‘sweet’ aspects of sweet and sour