Tag: Chips

REVIEW: Beer Battered Onion Rings Ruffles

Nichol 4 Comments

Beer Battered Onion Rings Ruffles

So you’re hosting a fall harvest barbecue with a backwoods gourmet theme heavily influence by your lack of funds and the fact that you ran over a wild animal on your way home from work last night. Frankly, this sounds a bit questionable, but lord knows, I’ve got no room to judge.

Anyway, the meal is shaping up to be a disaster (big shock there). With your first guests set to shuffle over from their neighboring trailers in about fifteen minutes, your found opossum entree still isn’t done (at least, it doesn’t look done – but I’m no opossum roasting expert) and your multi-layer Jell-O jiggler hors d’oeuvres aren’t setting nearly as fast as you’d hoped. You don’t have nearly enough time left to whip up your beloved cheese puff casserole! Whatever will you do for a side dish?

Well, lucky for you, you’ve got me, and a local Walmart. Simply send a significant other/friend/child out for some limited edition Beer Battered Onion Rings Ruffles and you’ll already be halfway to neighborhood acclaim. Seeing as you’ve prepared no other sides, I’d recommend, oh, roughly 1/3 bag per person.

“But Nichol,” I assume you’re asking, “I can’t just serve them bagged. That’s not gourmet! And the only bowl I have big enough for the five bags of chips you estimate I’ll need has snowmen and dancing Santas all over it!”

Holy crap! Chill out! I’ve got you covered. Quit interrupting.

Do you have construction paper? No? Well, quick – call the person you sent out for chips and have them pick some up. I’ll wait.

Okay? Okay. Now, what you want to do next is come up with an appropriate replacement theme for the bowl. You’ve already got the Fall thing going, so let’s work with that. Now’s the time to get creative. I recommend covering Frosty and St. Nick’s faces with lots and lots of paper leaves. If, however, you wish to take things a bit further, maybe shift forward a few weeks with your décor, you could also craft zombie parts for the Santas, so that they appear to be hunting down the poor snowmen, or vice versa.

In either case, that’s not a problem you’ve got on your hands so much as a fantastic crafting opportunity.

“But what about the chips themselves?” You now say because you’re just horribly whiny and out of sorts today. “What makes them classy? And shouldn’t I opt for more of a variety?”

First off, no. Just these. Don’t confuse your guests with five thousand similar looking lesser chip varieties. They deserve better.

Second, these chips happen to be a limited edition, fan-chosen, Walmart exclusive. If that’s not enough for your crowd of snobbish rednecks, tell them this: Beer Battered Onion Rings Ruffles are a one-of-a-kind treat, occupying a blurry middle ground somewhere between Funyuns and their comparatively mundane Sour Cream and Onion Ruffles cousins.

Beer Battered Onion Rings Ruffles Closeup

They are the mellow, potato chip equivalent to French’s French Fried Onions, by which I mean the oniony notes are vivid, sweet, and unmistakably Vidalia-like, and the chips taste very much deep fried in some batter you won’t recognize but will wish you could replicate. They offer just a hint of completely unnecessary brown sugar (which I assume is supposed to lend a caramelized taste) and subtle buttermilk undertones. The coating is light, sidestepping both the weird film Funyuns leave behind in one’s mouth and the heaviness one feels by one’s second or third handful of sour cream and onion chips.

The flavor pairs wonderfully with a nice peppery Saison. What? I lost you all there? Fine. These chips pair decently with any cheap beer devoid of fruity elements, wheat, and most other adjectives. Is that what you want to hear? Honestly, why do I even try with you?

Basically, if your guests enjoy onion rings, they will enjoy these chips. And if they are the kind of crowd that enjoys opossum, I’m just going to stereotypically assume they’re onion ring fans. Or at least fans of fried things, which is close enough.

Oh, and I should probably mention that the layers of flavor flatten out to nothing but semi-fake onion as you keep shoveling the Beer Battered Onion Rings Ruffles into your gullet. Make sure to periodically offer up more beer and opossum parts to avoid potential party-killing monotony.

Good Luck!

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounce/ about 11 chips- 160 calories, 90 calories from fat, 10 grams of fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 2.5 grams polyunsaturated fat, 5 grams monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 170 milligrams of sodium, 200 milligrams of potassium, 15 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 1 gram of sugar, 2 grams of protein, 0% vitamin A, 0% calcium, 8% Vitamin B6, 10% vitamin C, 4% thiamin, 2% phosphorous, 4% magnesium, and 2% iron.)

Item: Beer Battered Onion Rings Ruffles
Price: $2.98 (on sale)
Size: 9 ounces
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: No Funyuns film. DIY re-holiday-ification. Buttermilk. Jell-O hors d’oeuvres. Vidalia sweetness. Good addition to the existing faux-fried onion flavor family. Zombie Santas.
Cons: Found opossum entrees. Attempt at caramelized flavor lends a weird barbeque-like edge. Jell-O refusing to cooperate. Descends into an oniony borefest after a few minutes.

REVIEW: Doritos Fiery Fusion and Cheetos Fiery Fusion

Jeff 9 Comments

Doritos Fiery Fusion and Cheetos Fiery Fusion

Machismo + 90’s Xtreme = the present day douchebag.

I have concluded that the above is the correct formula. Or as a recipe it would read, one part exaggerated masculinity and one equal part X-Games generation, a gallon of penis envy, and a pinch of misdirected anger will give you the douchebag.

Everyone remembers the late 90’s where every…fucking…thing was so damned EXTREME! (Extreeeeme!!!) And you know it was extra extreme when they got rid of the “e” and it was just X-treme or some stupid variation. Images of snowboarders, tats, overdone spiked hairdo’s with goatees grasping some neon green drink, you know XXXXXTREME MUTHAfuckas!!! Red Bull’s and Frïs Vodka anyone?

Once the 90’s gave way to the new millennium, the very common denominator of the public latched on to all the worst things about the EXTREME (Extreeeeme!!!) crowd. After the Y2K scare, Buckle clothing stores were popping up all over the malls like a gonorrhea infection. Davidoff’s Cool Water cologne stepped aside for Axe Tiger Cock or something like that. Walking billboards for midlife crises were wearing Affliction shirts with Ed Hardy jeans and populating posh bars as they imbibed Jager-bombs (note: Sake bombs fall in this category too and if you order a sake bomb in a sushi restaurant, I guarantee your sashimi has been deservedly seasoned with ass-crack sweat).

This is the mutated ugly side of men who were not smart enough to understand metrosexual (which is a term I hate as well). And yes, food wasn’t immune to this movement either. You aren’t a real man unless you can eat those fucking ghost-chili hot wings or scotch bonnet poppers filled with Szechuan whatever the hells. Be a man and eat it!

Or at least that’s what the sticky laminated stained menu tells me and douchebags gotta eat too. As much as I love hot food, I know it’s entering the realm of overly macho men who either eat it hot or eat it big (and sometimes both). Fuck me.

Our love of spicy food is demonstrated in the growing popularity of Thai and Indian cuisines. The general public is beginning to accept flavors more exotic than a Cajun spiced chicken finger. In fact, sriracha is now offered at a lot of restaurants. I assure you it won’t be long before we slather some kimchi on hot dogs, I have and it’s good.

Like anything that becomes popular, they are dumbed down for a dumb public. So as much as I admire those Trekkie-like hot sauce collectors and the adventurous eater tucking into a Ethiopian goat stew scorching with berbere, I was a little pessimistic when I saw the Fiery Fusion flavors for Doritos and Cheetos. I love hot food and normally when it is in snack form, it’s tepid.

The name was a bit douchebaggy too, Fiery Fusion. It sounds like it’s some kind of new scent. When I hear “fusion” in regards to food, I picture bad Asian cuisine mixed with western elements. Ahi-tuna salad comes to mind. Like flies, these places are inhabited by shaved headed “bro’s” in an un-tucked shiny shirt using a pair of chopsticks in one hand and bumping fists with other “bro’s” Tapout-style. Good God.

Fusion, however, for Frito-Lay means “Sizzlin’ Cayenne & Cheese.” Both respective packages have “Fiery Fusion” written in red orange to clue you in that it is “sizzlin’” which may be different from sizzling.

Frito Lay has played around with spicy offerings before in regards to both brands. The wasabi dusted Mr. Dragon’s Fire Chips Doritos were a bit flaccid in the heat department but tasty. The progressively hot “Degree Burn” series released by Doritos are another good example. Not one to be eclipsed, Cheetos brought out their FLAMIN’ HOT and Cheddar Jalapeño variations. Without a fist bump to spare, I gave in and bought both at the gas station bro.

Doritos Fiery Fusion

Doritos Fiery Fusion

Upon opening, an immediate rich smell of peppers emanated from the bag and this was a good sign. The chips had the normal orange look of Doritos without a fleck of red powder. At first crunch, it tastes like a nacho chip crossed with a barbecue potato chip if you can imagine that. Then the comforting vinegar tang hits your senses. The chips had a faint earthy sweetness, almost like brown sugar. While it tasted good, I was ready to chalk up my $1.29 as a casualty because I didn’t sense any heat.

Like sleight of hand, I never saw it coming or in this case…taste. A slow burn started to build on my tongue and then it crept to the back of my throat before I even knew it. This was really good. The more I ate, the hotter my mouth became. Surprisingly, the heat also never competed with the flavor unlike so many other spicy chips. I prefer the gradual fire that builds into a storm and would say the effect is similar here.

These chips are the hottest Doritos I’ve eaten. They taste better and are spicier than the Doritos Flamas that has been selling as of late. And unlike the Flamas, I left no red handprints all over my walls like it was the freaking ending of Blair Witch.

Let me caution you, do not expect a capsaicin-fueled roller coaster or your tongue to IGNITE (as the bag claims it will). Even though these are the spiciest Doritos I’ve had, it is far from the spiciest food I’ve ever eaten. I would place the Doritos way above the level of Taco Bell’s Fire sauce but below Tabasco. Still, it’s a welcome punch from a bag of corn tortilla chips. My only complaint is wishing Doritos would turn up the heat a bit more, but that’s negligible.

Despite my feelings, these Doritos really can back up their claim that these are hot. The burn will linger around for a minute and then it’s gone, like a sip of good angry bourbon. I would buy these again. It satiated my hunger for something spicy and who doesn’t love a Dorito chip now and then? Or a bourbon? Fistbump yo!

Cheetos Fiery Fusion

Cheetos Fiery Fusion

I waited almost a day to open these, partly because I didn’t want to eat them immediately after the Doritos and not get a clean taste. …Mostly because I spent the rest of the day on a scotch fueled bender celebrating my friend’s birthday. (Extreeeeeme!!!)

So here I am staring at Chester Cheetah’s mug at five in the morning. That creepy ass show about missing people in America is on with a theme song that is as scary as the one from Unsolved Mysteries.

I stared at the bag over the chorus chanting “Missing. These people are missing” (see? I told you it was creepy). I went ahead and opened the bag in a clumsy manner. The smell of corn and fake cheese powder made its presence. I took one out and noticed there were patches of red splotches as if the Cheetos had a rash.

Eating one, it tasted very bland. What the hell? These were really boring. Taking a swig from a can of Sprite that has been lying on the counter since the day before, I went back to bed. I needed to sleep off my impending hangover. Additionally, my mouth felt like I went down on a bag of mulch.

I awoke to the sound of that CBS Sunday Morning opening. Feeling better, I decided to give those Cheetos a second try. Lulled from the trumpet of Wynton Marsalis, I walked into the kitchen and grabbed the bag. After eating a few, I confirmed it for myself.

These were so boring and dry. All I could taste was the corny corn puffs and fake-o cheese powder. The heat barely registered but like the Doritos, it would come up from the backside. That is the only similarity between the two.

I would compare the heat to that of a paper cup filled with coffee and too much non-diary creamer that has been sitting in a conference room for a day because the cleaning staff was too lazy to toss it away and now there is a ring on the table, so please clean it. I don’t care if that is a run on sentence, but it’s the best way I can describe the lack of any burn.

Sizzlin’ Cayenne & Cheese hmm? The cheese part is right but these were terrible if you could not tell. I couldn’t taste the cayenne and eating them felt like a mouthful of Styrofoam peanuts. I don’t know if it needed more salt or more cheese. More heat for sure.

Compared to the Doritos, these Cheetos are the lazy brother who sits around all day smoking pot, perpetually borrows money to buy more vinyls, and at the end of the day has accomplished nothing but a big fart. I know I’m being harsh, but these just plain sucked. I would rather wear a stupid Affliction t-shirt than eat another.

Even though it cost me $1.29, I want my money back. I feel ripped off and now I know why Chester is dancing on the bag. I want to knock his stupid sunglasses off. The bag is pushing “0 grams of trans fat” instead of how these things are so hot it will melt your eyeballs into a soup that you can drink later. This should have been a clue.

I’m not sure what makes me angrier, the fact that they are so bland or that the heat is neutered. I want my $1.29 back assholes! And in pennies so I can put them in a sock and flail it into Chester’s face.

(Nutrition Facts – Doritos Fiery Fusion – 1 ounce/12 chips – 140 calories, 70 calories from fat, 8 grams of fat, 1 gram of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 160 milligrams of sodium, 16 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 0 grams of sugars, and 2 grams of protein. Cheetos Fiery Fusion – 1 ounce/21 bland pieces – 150 calories, 10 calories from fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 190 milligrams of sodium, 14 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of dietary fiber, less than 1 gram of sugar, and 2 grams of protein.)

Other Doritos Fiery Fusion and Cheetos Fiery Fusion review:
Food Junk
That Bootleg Guy
Hot Chicks Eatin’ Spicy Chips

Items: Doritos Fiery Fusion and Cheetos Fiery Fusion
Prices: $1.29 each (A bargain for the Doritos, an obscene rip off for the Cheetos.)
Size: 3 ounces (Doritos Fiery Fusion)
Size: 3.25 ounces (Cheetos Fiery Fusion)
Purchased at: 7-Eleven (where the bottled water is spicier than these friggin’ Cheetos)
Rating: 9 out of 10 (Doritos Fiery Fusion)
Rating: 3 out of 10 (Cheetos Fiery Fusion)
Pros: In a saturated market of spicy chips, Doritos Fiery Fusion stand out. The Doritos are hot and the flavor alone was delicious, I would eat it even if they weren’t spicy. The heat lingers on both snacks and stays in the back of your throat comfortably. The Cheetos are not as bad as getting scrotum cancer. The Cheetos are also not as bad as a robot led apocalypse.
Cons: The Doritos could be a tad hotter. Cheetos are devoid of taste or heat. Fist bumps and sake bombs. The Cheetos have an unpleasant feel in your mouth. Theme song to Unsolved Mysteries. Chester and his sunglasses annoy me. Cunnilingus on mulch.

REVIEW: Hot Sauce Pringles (Original, Chipotle & Roasted Garlic)

Marvo 10 Comments

Pringles Hot Sauce (Original, Roasted Garlic and Chipotle

When it comes to hot spicy foods, I don’t think I ask for much.

When I put it into my mouth, the capsaicin should cause my face to excessively ooze out four different bodily fluids at the same time: sweat to help cool my face, tears of pain, saliva to help cool my mouth, and snot being cleared from my nasal cavity. It should also make my tongue feel like kittens used it as a scratch post.

And then after it’s been digested and the heat is just a memory, it should make the opposite of my digestive system feel like it’s being cleaned by a bidet that shoots molten lava. The heat should make my rear yell out for Preparation H to help soothe it.

Unfortunately, the limited time only line of Hot Sauce Pringles doesn’t attain the level of heat that makes you feel like you’ve been sucking on Lucifer’s teat or a bottle of Sriracha sauce.

Like the number of hot sauces on a table at a decent Mexican restaurant, the Walmart-exclusive Hot Sauce Pringles come in three varieties: Original, Chipotle, and Roasted Garlic. Since new Pringles flavors are rare, I was extremely excited to find these flavors, so much so that I wanted to celebrate their arrival by stringing them up and then bashing them with a bat until their potato crisp goodness fell to the ground. But since Pringles tend to be fragile, I didn’t raise my bat to any of them.

Original Hot Sauce Pringles had a vinegary smell that reminded me of Ketchup Pringles. This flavor was my favorite of the three, probably because it’s the best tasting and spiciest. Its flavor was a combination of red peppers and vinegar. Its heat doesn’t show itself until a good 7-10 seconds after chewing, which I thought was a little strange.

Chipotle Hot Sauce Pringles was the least spiciest of the three, which I thought was unusual since chipotle is rated somewhere in the lower middle of the Scoville scale. But then again, chipotle isn’t listed in the ingredients. Its flavor starts off tasting somewhat like black pepper and then ending with a smoky flavor. The black pepper flavor was a slight turnoff for me, which also made it my least favorite of the three.

Before trying all three Hot Sauce Pringles flavors, I thought the Roasted Garlic Hot Sauce Pringles would be the least spiciest, but they were slightly less spicy than the Original Hot Sauce Pringles. As for how they taste, there’s definitely a garlic flavor to them and I enjoyed them, but as I ate through the can, I couldn’t help think the flavoring tasted like the powder in a McCormick chili mix packet.

Overall, the line of Hot Sauce Pringles is decent, but I think it would’ve been better if they teamed up with Tabasco to create better tasting flavors. As for spiciness, Pringles is definitely capable of creating a spicy hot flavor, but these limited time only Hot Sauce Pringles failed to impress both ends of my digestive system.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounce/approx. 16 crisps – Original – 140 calories, 80 calories from fat, 9 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 230 milligrams of sodium, 15 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 1 gram of sugar, and 1 gram of protein. Chipotle – 150 calories, 80 calories from fat, 9 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 190 milligrams of sodium, 15 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 1 gram of sugar, and 1 gram of protein. Roasted Garlic – 150 calories, 80 calories from fat, 9 grams of fat, 2.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 200 milligrams of sodium, 15 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 1 gram of sugar, and 1 gram of protein.)

Item: Hot Sauce Pringles (Original, Chipotle, & Roasted Garlic)
Price: $1.50 each
Size: 6.38 ounces
Purchased at: Walmart
Rating: 7 out of 10 (Original)
Rating: 5 out of 10 (Chipotle)
Rating: 6 out of 10 (Roasted Garlic)
Pros: Original Hot Sauce Pringles was tasty. Roasted Garlic Hot Sauce was good. Trying new Pringles flavors. Comes in SuperStack cans. Sriracha sauce.
Cons: Their spiciness failed to impress both ends of my digestive system. Only available at Walmart. Chipotle Hot Sauce’s black pepper flavor turned me off and was the least spiciest. Oozing four different bodily fluids from my face.

REVIEW: Cheetos Puffs Honey BBQ

Jasper 17 Comments

Cheetos Puffs Honey BBQ

If all the snacks in the Frito-Lay family got together and played Never Have I Ever, I imagine they would quickly settle into the classic participant archetypes. Rold Gold would be the (pretzel-)stick-in-the-mud who hems and haws for ten minutes before saying something completely boring and inoffensive like, “Never have I ever been to Canada.” Funyuns would be the guy who the whole group would expect to tell wild and entertaining stories (after all, “fun” is his first name), but he’d only end up disappointing everyone. (Really, Funyuns, you’ve only had four flavors in 40 years?)

Cheetos would be that most annoying of Never Have I Ever players, the guy who claims to have done everything. He’s likely more of a liar than a slut, yet no one dares question him for fear of being portrayed as a prude. “Yeah, I was milk-chocolate flavored this one time at summer camp. Who doesn’t have an anthropomorphic mascot that could probably sell cigarettes to kids? You’ve never tried having an interpunct in your name? Bro, did you even go to high school?”

But eventually, it would get to Cheetos’ turn, and he would drop this bomb: “Never have I ever been honey-barbecue flavored.” All the other snacks would go nuts (Cracker Jack especially), but as they listed out all of his varieties, they would slowly come to realize that, somehow, with 100 varieties in 16 countries over the last 60 years, Cheetos has never had a honey-barbecue flavor… until now. Cheetos can put down another of his hypothetical (but sure to be cheese-dust-covered) fingers, as Frito-Lay recently introduced the Cheetos Puffs Honey BBQ.

Cheetos Puffs Honey BBQ Naked

These new Cheetos have a coating of honey barbecue powder in addition to the regular coating of cheese dust. The honey barbecue provided a definite sweetness that stopped well short of cloying, while the smokiness was understated but grew slightly more pronounced the more I ate. The amount of cheese dust had been noticeably scaled back in comparison with regular Cheetos, and the cheesiness, sweetness, and smokiness generally worked well together.

The flavors were well-proportioned, but I think they were all too mild to the point of being unmemorable. After I first opened the bag of Cheetos, I ate about one serving, put the bag away, and didn’t think about it again until I sat down to write this review. These Cheetos were pleasant-tasting but not at all addictive, which seems to run completely counter to the essence and appeal of Cheetos.

A love of Cheetos has become a principal feature of the compulsive gamer stereotype because we all intuitively recognize their addictiveness. A bag of Cheetos should make me feel helpless to my urges and thus compel me to purchase a couple cases of Mountain Dew and start playing online poker again. If I wanted some snacks that let me regulate my appetite so easily, I would have bought a bag of rice cakes or Baked Lays.

OK, obviously I just got weirdly over-the-top there, so let me take a step back: the Cheetos Puffs Honey BBQ were fine but nothing special. If you’re looking for a new snack that you can enjoy in moderation, go ahead and give these a try. Otherwise, you certainly shouldn’t feel embarrassed to leave your finger up if someone says, “Never have I ever tried those new honey barbecue Cheetos.” (Also, that person sucks at playing Never Have I Ever. I bet he’s never even been to Canada.)

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounce – 150 calories, 90 calories from fat, 10 grams of fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 220 milligrams of sodium, 15 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, 1 gram of sugar, and 1 gram of protein.)

Other Cheetos Puffs Honey BBQ reviews:
That Bootleg Guy
Stephen Loves Candy

Item: Cheetos Puffs Honey BBQ
Price: $2.99
Size: 9 ounces
Purchased at: Shaw’s
Rating: 6 out of 10
Pros: Nice mild sweetness and smokiness. Flavors played well together. Cheetos finally has a honey and/or barbecue flavor. Writing about the “essence and appeal” of Cheetos. Going to Canada.
Cons: Flavors were all too mild. These Cheetos weren’t addictive. Pretzels are boring and inoffensive. Feeling compelled to play online poker again. Playing Never Have I Ever with that guy who claims to have done everything. Yes, I went to high school, FRANCES.

REVIEW: Lay’s Chipotle Ranch Potato Chips

Kelley 7 Comments

Lay's Chipotle Ranch Potato Chips

You know what, dear TIB readers? I’m angry. I’m angry because I’ve been sitting here for a good half hour now, staring at the awful blinking cursor on a blank document. The dreaded Writer’s Block.

I’m not really angry at my Writer’s Block, however. I’m angry at food. Okay, that’s not fair; I love food, and it’s not food’s fault. It’s the fault of food company’s marketing team, or maybe their R&D departments. I don’t really care who; I’m just angry at all of them. Angry that they’re making my intro to this review about Lay’s Chipotle Ranch Potato Chips so fucking difficult. Here’s some opening themes that I’ve already written but discarded as totally lame:

Regional-flavored potato chips are stereotyping whole regions of the US with their flavors!

Fake angry letter to Lay’s about said stereotypical chips!

Chipotle is the latest food trend and it’s totally been beaten into the ground!

I think the third one is actually the crux of my problem. Chipotle has been overused. What’s left to say? I typically write my review intros before I even taste the product; I like to explore and mock marketing angles and make wild speculations about how awful or tasty the product is going to be based on little to no actual facts. I’ve had enough chipotle-flavored products to see exactly where my review is going:

“These chips have some heat but where’s the smoky flavor that really sets chipotle apart from just generic spiciness?”

Boom. Done. Didn’t even have to open the bag. You’re welcome.

I’d like to be a glass half-full kinda gal, but I’ve been burned, as it were, by so many disappointing chipotle products that I just can’t get excited about these chips. I’ve been turned into a dour food reviewer. My jokes are dried up and played out. I’m even getting angry at spellcheck for refusing to recognize chipotle as a correctly spelled word. I am “The Grim Eater” from Ratatouille. My stomach, two sizes too small.

But I feel an obligation to the readership of this fine, upstanding website to tell you about Lay’s Chipotle Ranch. They’re only available in the southwest region of the United States, so the majority of you will never get to try them. I must cast off this chipotle albatross and march forward!

Let’s start with the regional angle: way back in March of last year, Lay’s introduced their first round of regional flavors. In what was only my second review on TIB, I took a look at their first southwest regional offering, Southwest Cheese & Chiles. There were four other regional flavors, and they mostly seemed to make sense in regards to representing the flavors of their regions.

This time around, along with the southwest’s Chipotle Ranch, they’ve also launched Honey Mustard for the northeast (“tangy mustard combined with a touch of sweet honey”) and Creamy Garden Ranch for the Midwest (“sour cream mixed with spices and fresh cucumbers for the flavor of herb ranch dressing”).

I’m not exactly sure how the other two flavors relate to their regions. Hey New York, are you totally in love with honey mustard? I thought you guys went the spicy brown route. Midwest, you really into ranch dressing? Well, Michigan and South Dakota are tied for tenth fattest state, so maybe they’ve got something there; plus, cucumber chips sound interesting. However, I suppose chipotle makes sense for the southwest. People generally think of chiles and spicy food when they think of southwestern cuisine, and, again, chipotle is the hot flavor of the moment.

Lay's Chipotle Ranch Potato Chips Closeup

Lay’s description of Chipotle Ranch is “sour cream and buttermilk ranch mixed with chipotle spice and green chili”. Not sure what ranch has to do with the southwest. I guess they’re going for that “spicy/cooling” angle, but really, there’s no point in that. They would have been fine with just chipotle and green chili. But hey, there are a lot of ranches in the southwest! That explains everything.

After all this bitching and moaning and generally being a curmudgeon, it’s time to take off my crankypants, put on my ObjectiveReviewerpants, and get down to business.

Upon opening the bag, there was a distinct lack of any sort of odor, which I found odd. Usually some sort of aroma hits my nostrils when I tear open a bag of chips, but there wasn’t much to go on with these. The chips themselves are covered with a medium amount of flavor powder, appropriately orangish-red with little flecks of green that could represent either the green chili or the ranch. Or both!

The first thing that hit my taste buds was the heat. It was surprisingly mild, but enjoyable. And, of course, try as I might, chip after chip, that signature smoky flavor of chipotle was absent. My mouth wept. Not literally, though; I try to stay off the Thorazine while I’m doing a review.

As I kept eating, the heat built gradually but nicely. The ranch flavoring, which I didn’t think I would like, worked well with the spice. It made its presence known, but wasn’t overwhelming. I could even taste hints of the sour cream, which I thought would be nonexistent. It complimented both the ranch and the…”chipotle” quite nicely. As for the green chili, I couldn’t distinguish it from the chipotle. The spiciness was too generalized; Lay’s could have just called the chips “Spicy Ranch” and I would have nodded my head in agreement. There’s an interesting aftertaste that I would describe as “herby”. I actually liked it, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was.

My pessimistic view towards all things claiming to be chipotle-flavored remains, but I’m gracious enough to put down the bitter pill and say that Lay’s Chipotle Ranch is a tasty chip. The heat level builds nicely and stops just short of being too hot, and the ranch and sour cream both work well with it. Real chipotle flavoring is my Moby Dick, but I can’t blame Lay’s any more than anyone else. Looking on the bright side, hey – at least my region got a new flavor! Suck it, Northwestern US! (Still want to try cucumber-flavored chips.)

(Nutrition Facts – 1 package – 290 calories, 160 calories from fat, 18 grams of total fat, 2 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 4.5 grams of polyunsaturated fat, 9 grams of monounsaturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 320 milligrams of sodium, 640 milligrams of potassium, 28 grams of total carbohydrates, 2 grams of dietary fiber, 2 grams of sugars, 4 grams of protein, 6% vitamin A, 2% calcium, 15% vitamin C, 6% iron, 10% vitamin E, 10% niacin, 8% thiamin, and 15% vitamin B6.)

Item: Lay’s Chipotle Ranch Potato Chips
Price: 99 cents
Size: 1 7/8 ounces
Purchased at: Circle K
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Gradual build of heat level. “The Grim Eater”. Ranch and sour cream were just right. The term “chipotle albatross”. Interesting herby aftertaste.
Cons: NO CHIPOTLE FLAVORING. Spellcheck being a dick. NO CHIPOTLE FLAVORING. Getting’ the “Thorazine drools”. NO CHIPOTLE FLAVORING.