Chips Archives - Page 49 of 60

REVIEW: Ruffles Ultimate Kickin’ Jalapeño Ranch

May 31, 2012August 25, 2023 Jeff 12 Comments

I have a lot of pet peeves and I collect them like weird old Memaws who hoard those cloying Precious Moment figurines. What is with those scary things? They are always displayed on the dusty shelves of the entertainment center or a bannister. And those black empty dewy eyes staring at me (which I know are really portals to Hell)…it gives me the creeps enough to piss me off.

You know what else pisses me off? When I take a chip and dip it into a bowl of creamy French onion and it breaks off. I’m left staring at the other half stuck in a white thick pool like someone in quicksand. And then I take another potato chip hoping to rescue that one and it breaks too. And then I take another one…well, you get the idea.

By the end, there are so many potato shards sticking out of the bowl it looks like an unholy creation of the unhealthiest cereal ever made… and sometimes when no one is looking, inebriated and alone, I’ll take a spoon and eat it. I just need a chip that can withstand the simple act of dipping.

Ruffles Ultimate has provided the solution to that very problem. However, there is a slight catch because these are only for men. For those of you who drink Dr Pepper Ten, you now have something to eat while watching bum fight videos.

Now if a chip specifically made for the male gender sounds very stupid, it is. I’m not really sure what distinguishes these from the asexual kinds except for the vapid “bro-speak” that adorns the bag. The variety I bought is not just Jalapeño Ranch, they are also graced with “kickin'”.

Too cool for the letter “G” and apparently much too cool for women, hermaphrodites and anyone who isn’t man enough to eat these. Besides, sissies, these ain’t just Ruffles…these are Ruffles Ultimate (rolls eyes). I mean these are so manly that Maxim magazine, home of the ubiquitous 100 top hottest whatever lists, threw a party heralding the second coming of Christ in chip form.

If I sound jaded, I am, because it gets worse. Basically, we have potato chips for the Axe fragrance crowd.

Ruffles Ultimate Kickin' Jalapeño Ranch Closeup Ridges

There is a nice earthy musk that greets you when you open the bag. The chips are thicker and “tougher” like kettle chips on steroids. The ridges of the chips are comical as they look exaggerated and the grooves are deep, like miniature fjords. In fact, they appear like the way comic strip artists draw a ridged potato chip. The package even says in fake chalk writing, “Hardercore Ridges for Hardcore Dips.”

Hardercore? Yes, Frito-Lay not only introduced us to potato chips for a man but they gave us a new word as well. I can only wait for the inevitably Hardestcore snack that someone will manufacture to top it. Maybe it will be aimed at jacked up he-men with two penises (one for doing it and the other so he can take a leak while doing it because he is 110 percent man, yo! ONE HUNDRED TEN PERCENT!!).

Frito-Lay must think men are idiots because right on the bag is an arrow pointing to a jar of their hardcore dips like Ruffles Ultimate Smokehouse Bacon. “Oh, is that what they mean by dip??? I thought they meant the handicapped kid I picked on because I’m a real macho man!” (Note: If you do pick on people with handicaps, there is a special place in hell for you.)

There is also a Beef N’ Cheddar Ruffles Ultimate dip, and you know that’s definitely for a man because it’s “N”, not the wussy proper spelling “and.” Maybe I should change my name to “J’ff” because only wimps need that dopey “e.” All this aggro speak makes me want to smash stuff and urinate on something to mark my territory.

I mean, do you expect anything less? They have the gall to call these Ruffles the ULTIMATE version. The only ultimate thing these have accomplished is a huge failure. Sure they can withstand the dip. I’m pretty sure you can dip these in ice cream and they won’t break…but the taste is damn awful. The chips immediately have a grassy cucumber flavor which is revolting. I like a Pimm’s cup or a floral gin and cucumber cocktail every so often, but in a chip? It is disgusting.

Ruffles Ultimate Kickin' Jalapeño Ranch Closeup

Even though the oversized flecks of green are supposed to resemble its hardercore ranch, it has a faint ranch taste. The heat of the jalapeño is even more timid and flaccid. Seriously, people who like hot peppers treat jalapeño like candy. Granted, I am one of those people, but even for the ordinary consumer, the pepper should have way more fire. Disliking this chip is an understatement…I loathe it.

Is there anything positive? A few things come to mind. Now the weak heat lingers like a whining baby and the chip is not greasy which is surprising considering the hardercore thickness of these. Logically, these chips will not break on your average onion/ranch/southwestern chipotle cream blackbean bacon dip unless it is made of cement mix.

I must admit that I am getting damned tired of this new trend of food products aimed at men because it’s just dumb. I haven’t tried the other varieties of this Ultimate Hardercore chip, but I will be avoiding these chips like the way I avoid Diane Keaton movies.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounce/about 10 chips – 160 calories, 90 calories from fat, 10 grams of fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 170 milligrams of sodium, 310 milligrams of potassium, 15 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 1 gram of sugars, and 2 grams of protein)

Other Ruffles Ultimate Kickin’ Jalapeño Ranch reviews:
The French Ghost
Fatguy Food Blog

Item: Ruffles Ultimate Kickin’ Jalapeño Ranch
Price: $4.29
Size: 8.0 ounce bag
Purchased: Publix
Rating: 3 out of 10
Pros: It will stand up to dips and not break. It is not greasy. It will complete your image of a studly man’s man who is secretly insecure. Changing my name to J’ff. The idea of what one can do with two dingalings instead of one.
Cons: Grassy flavor. Flaccid heat. Food products made for men, Geeze give it up already. Bro speak. The only thing Ultimate is the failure these chips are. The word memaw…it’s not endearing, it’s sad. And those damned Precious Moment figurines which are really vessels to the Devil himself.

REVIEW: Herr’s Sloppy Joe Potato Chips

May 18, 2012December 24, 2020 Adam 5 Comments

I sometimes wonder if potato chip companies aren’t all guided by a collusion of meat company executives in a brilliant attempt to subvert the ideas of vegetarianism and tempt the herbavorically inclined among us to the joys of being a carnivore.

A far fetched conspiracy theory?

Perhaps, but perusing the Walmart chip aisle lends credence to my claim. There’s Chicken Barbecue chips. Baby Back Rib Chips. The proverbial [your favorite cheese here] and bacon chips, and, I’d be remiss not to point out, some horribly mediocre attempt at making chips into a BLT.

At some point one has to wonder if God had wanted fried potatoes to taste like meat, he’d have made them, well, actually meat. Come to think of it, maybe those chip companies are secretly plotting to turn us carnivores against meat by designing crappy “meaty” potato chips.

Which brings me to curious case of Herr’s Sloppy Joe Potato Chips. The All-American staple of thriftiness, the Sloppy Joe technically contains meat. Technically, because underneath all that gloopy “stuff” the lunch lady served to you in the fourth grade, was, I’m told, the denatured proteins of something that either went “moo” or “cluck.” I can’t remember the last time I had a Sloppy Joe, but I’m sure it was sometime during my less epicurean days of meat consumption. I’m also quite convinced it may have involved copious amounts of a canned sauce that rhymes with “Damn This!” If there’s one thing I am positively certain of, though, it’s that said Sloppy Joe tasted damn good, as in “damn my future pretentious affinity for paninis and designer burgers, I want some good old American loose meat!”

Given my more recent excursions into the world of meat flavored chips, I didn’t have the highest hopes for these. Right out of the bag, the aroma seemed to promise the kind of mediocre onion powder and salt infused taste one expects from a chip of wacky flavor designs, although the first bite revealed a tomato paste like sweetness combined with an altogether “mmm” quality one only finds in Woochestireshire sauce. Instantly I’m hooked, suddenly recognized a certain spicy sweetness.

The chips themselves are much more oily than Lay’s chips, while the coating is positively dumped onto some chips. What ensues is a flavor and mouthfeel with the simple yet proven flavor notes of sweet, salty, acidic, and dare I say even a bit meaty, while also managing to convey the kind of sloppy and oily mess that a fourth grade fat camper can’t help but smile about. I especially liked the tomato powder element, and detected hints of cumin and some vaguely defined herb that probably works its way into any number of Sloppy Joe’s.

And the potato?

Hardly tasted it at all, but I’m not complaining. After all, I may not recall my last Sloppy Joe that clearly, but I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a potato thrown in there somewhere.

As a potato chip connoisseur, I’m a bit ashamed to admit how much I like these. There’s a great snackability element, and no pretentious “all natural” claims that hinder the enjoyment of a good junk food session parked in front of the NHL playoffs. Herr’s clearly put some thought into these, and judging by an ingredient list which features tamarind and Woochestireshire sauce, it’s apparent that the Pennsylvania-based snack company didn’t just dump a bunch of salt and dextrose on some oily chips.

A few minor complaints, including only being able to find these at Walmart and a less than optimal ridgy crunch, but nothing to the extent that would make me throw caution to the wind when plowing through an entire bag.

Healthy? Maybe not.

But considering this dastardly chip company’s collusion to subvert the influence of actual meat in my life, I might as well get my kicks where I can.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounce (about 13 chips) – 150 calories, 70 calories from fat, 8 grams of fat, 2 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 279 milligrams of sodium, 16 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 1 grams of sugar, and 2 grams of protein.)

Item: Herr’s Sloppy Joe Potato Chips
Price: $2.58 (on sale)
Size: 10 ounces
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Defies reason by tasting like an actual Sloppy Joe. Enjoyable mix of sweet, salty, and spicy, with a zippidy-do-da tang of Woochestireshire sauce. Better than Lay’s BLT chips. Possibly better for you than an actual Sloppy Joe, provided you don’t eat the whole bag.
Cons: Dastardly chip company collisions. Actually sloppy. More “ground turkey” sweetness than beefy richness. Only available at Walmart? Correctly pronouncing and spelling “Woochestireshire”

REVIEW: Food Should Taste Good Hemp Tortilla Chips

April 20, 2012February 26, 2023 Marvo 3 Comments

I just skimmed the Wikipedia entry about hemp and now I feel bad about eating these Food Should Taste Good Hemp Tortilla Chips.

The hemp seeds used to make these chips could’ve been used to grow more hemp plants, which in turn could’ve been used to make hemp clothing someone could’ve worn, hempcrete to build someone’s home, or hemp plastic to be used in a car.

Those hemp seeds I ate could’ve been turned into something significant and long lasting. Instead, their short, meaningless existence consisted of me eating them and then pooping them out.

From now on, I’m gonna stick to eating potato chips because what other uses for potatoes has society come up with? Powering some kid’s lame science fair project? Ammunition for a spud gun? Yeah, I don’t feel so bad about eating potato chips.

The Food Should Taste Good Hemp Tortilla Chips are made using only five ingredients: organic blue corn, high oleic sunflower and/or safflower oil, hemp seeds, corn bran, and sea salt. If you examine the chips, you can see the hemp seeds in them. The chips are a color that I like to call plastic army men green (although at some angles they looks brown) and they’re also a list of things that make it sound like the Holy Grail for Whole Foods shoppers. They’re certified vegan, certified gluten free, MSG free, not made from genetically modified ingredients, all natural, and they don’t contain artificial colors, flavors or preservatives.

I should note that I’ve never tasted hemp seeds before. Sure, I’ve been the driver of a car whose other passenger were puff-puff-passing their way through some weak ass weed, but I don’t know if second-hand weed smoke could be considered consumption of a cannabis plant. But, thankfully, the Google algorithm helped me learn hemp seeds have a nutty flavor.

The Food Should Taste Good Hemp Tortilla Chips are the size of Doritos and are a little thicker than Tostitos. At first, the hemp tortilla chips taste like normal tortilla chips, although a little bit better than Tostitos, but the hemp seed’s nuttiness eventually shows itself, although the level of nuttiness is more along the lines of a nip slip than full-frontal nudity. So if you gave these to an unsuspecting person they will probably think these are just some weird colored, but regular tasting tortilla chips.

While skimming through the Wikipedia entry about hemp, I also learned it’s a good source of omega-3 fatty acids and protein. The Food Should Taste Good Hemp Tortilla Chip’s nutrition facts say a serving of these chips provide 3 grams of protein, but the amount of omega-3 fatty acids isn’t listed anywhere. There isn’t even a ribbon or banner on the front of the packaging that says it’s a good or excellent source of omega-3 like there are on packages of salmon and some granola bars.

Room on the front of the package isn’t a problem. Look at all that white space.

I hope I’m getting some omega-3s from these Food Should Taste Good Hemp Tortilla Chips, because if I’m not getting any, I’m going to feel worse about eating them, even though they are some tasty chips. I already feel like I wasted the hemp seeds that went through my digestive system. They could’ve been used to create a hemp biofuel to fuel a hemp plastic car being driven by a person wearing hemp clothing to his or her house made from hempcrete.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounce/about 12 chips – 140 calories, 70 calories from fat, 7 grams of fat, 0.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 1.5 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 5 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 80 milligrams of sodium, 17 grams of carbohydrates, 3 grams of fiber, 0 grams of sugar, and 3 grams of protein.)

Item: Food Should Taste Good Hemp Tortilla Chips
Price: $3.69
Size: 5.5 ounces
Purchased at: Whole Foods
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Tasty. Certified vegan, certified gluten free, no MSG, not made from genetically modified ingredients, all natural, and they don’t contain artificial colors, flavors or preservatives. It’s frickin’ made with hemp. All the uses for hemp. Low sodium.
Cons: Needs to come in a bigger bag. Hemp flavor could’ve been stronger. Not sure if it provides omega-3. The hemp seeds I ate could’ve been used for better purposes.

REVIEW: Doritos JACKED (Smoky Chipotle BBQ and Enchilada Supreme)

April 16, 2012August 29, 2023 Drew 20 Comments

My wife recently told me she admired my self-control around open bags of chips. I asked what she meant, and she explained that if a chip bag is open, I’ll eat a certain amount until I’m not hungry anymore, then stop and let the chip bag sit there unmolested rather than continue to eat. I’d never really thought about it that way, but in general, I think she’s right. I can eat some potato chips and then keep the bag in front of me without touching it. I can usually do that with tortilla chips. I can even pull it off with cheese curls.

But Doritos are another story. Open a bag of Doritos and you expose my all-too-human weakness. I’ll keep eating those things until I force myself to close the bag and stash it away, or until it’s empty. If it’s open and sitting out, self-control is not an option.

So knowing that about myself, what was I to think about Doritos introducing the “JACKED” sub-line (I feel strongly it should be all caps) that boasts of Bigger, Bolder, Thicker chips? Should I be enthused, or worried? Was I like a smoker getting excited because his Camels would now contain triple the nicotine? And why “JACKED,” anyway? Were they going to contain Monterey or Cheddar Jack cheese (no), or was this just a doomed marketing attempt to seem appropriately “street” (almost certainly)?

Then I thought about it for .43 seconds and realized two of those adjectives are completely irrelevant. Who cares if each individual chip is 40% bigger and thicker if the size of the bag remains the same? If anything it’s a ploy to get you to eat the same number of Doritos you always did, but since there are fewer per bag, you’ll need to buy another bag sooner. They could just as easily make the Doritos small and wafer thin and brag about how each bag contains thousands, yes thousands of chips!

But it’s the second adjective that piqued my interest, because fortune favors the bold and so do I. The two inaugural flavors kicking off the JACKED line are Smoky Chipotle BBQ and Enchilada Supreme, and neither of those tastes screams “Let my subtle notes gently waft across your palate.” Appropriately for a product that debuted at the SXSW Festival, these are chips for extreme people with extreme taste buds; and while I may not be one of them, I’m always up for a challenge.

As you can see (the penny is for scale, I haven’t taken to eating copper… yet), the Smoky Chipotle BBQ chips are definitely larger than their standard Doritos brethren, and while it may not be clear from the picture, noticeably darker as well. I was unable to find one completely intact; I’m not sure if that’s a consequence of them being bigger and crunchier, or just having two toddlers who like to help unpack groceries. The smell is surprisingly subdued, not at all the intense aroma that typically warns you to proceed carefully with spicy food.

My expectation was that, despite the best efforts of the marketing department, the Chipotle BBQ Doritos wouldn’t be absurdly hot, so as not to deter most of the target audience. Frankly, I was afraid they’d go too far and end up with wuss chips; and luckily, that fear proved groundless. They pack a greater crunch than the regular variety due to their increased thickness, and you can clearly taste the classic Doritos artificial cheese on them. But with it definitely comes an explosion of spice that won’t send you sprinting for a gallon of milk, but will probably make you think twice about eating any without a cold drink handy. Darned if there isn’t a bit of a smoky flavor to them too, complementing the heat. It’s worth noting that the spice distribution is slightly uneven, some chips being noticeably hotter than others, but I’m not sure there’s any way that could’ve been avoided.

Likewise, the Enchilada Supreme Doritos carry a less potent aroma than I would’ve expected. They mostly smell like regular Doritos, with just a hint of Mexican spices if you really focus. The taste, however, packs just as much of a wallop as the Chipotle variety, if not more. Immediately your tongue is hit with a tangy salsa taste, and it IS tangy. I would say the flavor is more intense than the Chipotle variety but doesn’t linger as long — like a process server, it gets in, hits you with a lawsuit or paternity papers, and gets out immediately. It also has a cheesier taste than regular Doritos, which is much appreciated, along with some tomato flavor. And not that these have anything in common with “real” Mexican cuisine, but as someone who makes his tacos with shells, beef, cheese, and that’s it, I was slightly nervous about this flavor but found myself really digging it. You can also more easily eat them without a beverage handy than the Chipotle variety, since the spice doesn’t linger nearly as long.

I’m often skeptical of attempts to improve an established product I like, and doubly so if they appear to be pursuing the Poochie demographic. That said, I’m surprised to be able to happily recommend both of these new flavors. The increased size and thickness is largely window dressing, but they both have chops as far as spiciness, albeit in different ways. I’m a little more partial to the Smoky Chipotle BBQ flavor myself, but regular visitors to the Bell or a real Mexican restaurant may swing more in favor of the Enchilada Supreme. Either way though, you’ve got something good on your hands. Just remember to stretch properly before getting that X-treme; cramped taste buds are NOT cool, man.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 oz (about 6 chips) – Smoky Chipotle BBQ – 130 calories, 60 calories from fat, 7 grams of total fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 160 milligrams of sodium, 17 grams of total carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, less than 1 gram of sugars, and 2 grams of protein. Enchilada Supreme – 140 calories, 60 calories from fat, 7 grams of total fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 170 milligrams of sodium, 17 grams of total carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 0 grams of sugars, and 2 grams of protein.)

Other Doritos JACKED reviews:
FatGuy Food Blog
Junk Food Guy (Smoky Chipotle BBQ)
Junk Food Guy (Enchilada Supreme)

Item: Doritos JACKED (Smoky Chipotle BBQ and Enchilada Supreme)
Price: $4.29 each
Size: 10.5 oz
Purchased at: Giant
Rating: 8 out of 10 (Smoky Chipotle BBQ)
Rating: 7 out of 10 (Supreme Enchilada)
Pros: Doesn’t wimp out on the spice. Bolder. Enchilada Supreme definitely tastes like both cheese and tomato. Begrudgingly, I’ll admit they are more “extreme” than regular Doritos. You can really see the spicy crystals or whatever on the Chipotle BBQ kind. Catch you on the flip side, dudemeisters!
Cons: Irrelevant size increases. Not exactly cheap. “JACKED” is not a word typically associated with good things (carjacked, jacked up on steroids, etc). The description on the bag contains phrases like “mind-blowing” and “Can you handle it?” without an air of tongue-in-cheek self-awareness. Might lead to you accidentally eating your iPod Nano.

REVIEW: Lay’s Classic BLT Potato Chips

April 13, 2012May 2, 2023 Adam 23 Comments

I want you to close your eyes for a moment and imagine a Classic BLT sandwich.

Picture yourself on the patio of a quaint small town cafe in the heat of July, your lips warmed by a cool Coke Zero and your taste buds salivating as the aroma of apple-wood smoked bacon glides into your periphery. A mural of green romaine and juicy ripe tomatoes is hardly contained between the toasted white bread, while plump bacon invites your carnivorous spirit in this delight of its fatty yet crisp, salty but sweet, taste of hog heaven.

There’s crunch. There’s smoke. There’s a hint of creaminess and acidity, and there’s relief and sweetness. It’s enough to make you pause to contemplate whether this is the best sandwich you’ve ever eaten or if you’ve just died and gone to Heaven, all before fulfilling a sudden emotional urge to quote the movie Babe.

That’ll do pig. That’ll do.

Got that image in your head? Good, because that’s the kind of imagination you’ll have to have to taste the Classic BLT flavors and textures when your sitting on your couch watching reruns of old NCAA football games on ESPN Classic in the wee hours of the morning.

Don’t get me wrong, Lay’s new Classic BLT isn’t bad if you’re looking for a lighter take on sour cream and onion flavors, but when it comes to two of the three letters in the BLT acronym, the new chips miss the mark completely. Ironically, the only letter decently represented is “L,” although I don’t think it makes enough of a difference to qualify as a serving of fruit and vegetables.

I knew my expectations were too high right off the bat when I opened the bag. The chips looked and smelled like sour cream and onion chips, and while the buttermilk tang and heavy onion flavor weren’t distractingly overwhelming in the seasoning, you’d have a hard time picking out bacon and tomato if you hadn’t looked at the bag you were stuffing your face from.

There’s a slight dextrose sweetness and weak tomato powder flavor that lets you know there are hints of tomato, but when it comes to projecting meaty and smokey bacon, this comes off more in the vegan imitation variety than the smokey-meaty-fatty All-American hog.

Clearly a potato chip that intends to imitate a food which derives much of its flavor from from its texture is bound for failure, but I was at least expecting something to facilitate my daily helping of fake smoke flavor and salty, finger licking greasiness. Now all I have is breath that smells of sour cream and onion, and a bag of BLT chips that might — keyword, might — taste like a BLT sandwich should I find a worthy BLT sandwich to stick them in.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounce (About 15 chips) – 160 calories, 90 calories from fat, 10 grams of total fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 150 milligrams of sodium, 320 milligrams of potassium, 15 grams of total carbohydrates, 1 grams of dietary fiber, 1 gram of sugars, 2 grams of protein, 10% vitamin C, 2% iron, 4% niacin, and 4% thiamin)

Item: Lay’s Classic BLT Potato Chips
Price: $4.29
Size: 10 ounces
Purchased at: Weis Markets
Rating: 5 out of 10
Pros: All natural ingredients. No bacon cooking required. Classic BLT “crunch.” An excuse to watch Babe. Resistant Starch, son.
Cons: Doesn’t taste like a BLT. Weak tomato and almost no bacon flavor. Lacks lip-smacking fattitude of freshly cooked bacon. Doesn’t count as a serving of fruit and vegetables. Sour Cream and Onion breath.