Tag: Potato Chips

In the world of potato chips, the bright yellow bag of Lay’s potato chips is stamped permanently in my Potato Chip List of Glory. How one improves on permanence? I don’t know.

Of course, every new product Lay’s rolls out presents a new threat to my ardor: What if I eat a new kind and find myself unsatisfied? It isn’t realistic to expect perfection from every product…is it? Should I just stick with the classic fried chip? Am I going to give up Lay’s if I have a negative experience? If I give them up, where will I go when I have a chip craving? What does it all mean for my future of chip eating?!?!

I’m not sure, but I do know that a) the arrival of Popchips has been threatening to disturb the order of Lay’s potato chip glory on the shelves lately and thus b) Lay’s deserves its day to try and stand up for itself in this puffed-chip world. It was for this very reason that I pushed my anxiety aside and picked up the Lay’s Air Pops, determined to see if my steadfast chip could hold its own in these shifting, puffy-chip times.

Air Pops supposedly come in Sour Cream and Onion and Barbecue flavors. This time, the Fates conspired against me and I was left with the Original as my only option, a shame as I would’ve swooned like a melodramatic Shakespeare character over a bag of Sour Cream and Onion, but I figured it was best to try the Original first as it would prove whether or not Lay’s could set a solid foundation for its poppable round crisps. Plus, it saved me a lot of embarrassment that would’ve resulted from swooning in public.

Having been raised on the Original Lay’s, I like my chips thin, crispy, and with a salinity that could compete with the sodium levels of the Dead Sea. At the same time, none of this should take away the potato flavor. Popping open the bag, I’m greeted with the smell of potato and salt, a good foresight considering that’s all I want to taste.

And these don’t disappoint. Salty, crispy, potato-y, these have all the qualifying pillars that build a Potato Chip Parthenon on the acropolis of Greatness. They’re definitely inspired by the “Popchips” all those youngsters are talking about. Now, if you’ve yet to dip your toe in the Popchips craze, let me explain: a Popchip is a potato pellet (yes, “potato pellet”) that, according to an oldie clip of Marc Summers, has been vacuumized and puffed out into a round, crispy disc.

Flavor and texture-wise, I would describe Popchips as a round, potato-enhanced Bugle. One of the troubles I sometimes encounter with a Popchip is that they have a grain that can come across sharp against my mouth, almost as if I were subjecting myself to eating potato-flavored dry polenta. I was happy to discover the Lay’s version has a more Pringles-like grain that goes down smoother. That, paired with the fact that they’re doused with that perfect, cheap, grainy Lay’s table salt, gives them high marks all around.

There are many things that bring me great joy: the wrinkly faces of English Bulldogs, crazy straws, and Scottish kilts. While I’ve never taken the time to number them, resting somewhere at the top of the list would have to be finding the crumbly bits of chip at the bottom of the bag. You know what I’m talking about. Those discarded, semi-damaged remnants of potato flake and salt that, when tipped out of their pointed fissure in the corner of the aluminum bag, congeal with the perfect ratio of sodium chloride to potato. I’m happy to say that, for all you chip dust lovers, Lay’s doesn’t deny you here. Because the bag had been slightly crushed on the trek home (curse you, closing subway door!), a bounty of dusty booty awaited me as I reached the end of solid chippery, allowing me to tilt the bag and consume my reward. Ah. Chip satisfaction.

As seen with yo-yos, spandex, and roller skates, trends can meander and shift with no rhyme or reason, and it’s no different in the world of chips, which can go from 3-D to taco-fied in a matter of months. However, this puffed chip craze seems to be sustaining itself, having already expanded to everything from tortillas to lentils, and I, for one, am glad Lay’s has jumped in the ring. Their rendition is a solid one, done with a fearlessly salty hand and a quality potato taste while offering a slightly smoother texture than Popchips, so make room in the pantry. Lay’s has entered the puffed chips game.

(Nutrition Facts – 19 crisps – 120 calories, 40 calories from fat, 4 grams of fat, 0.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 190 milligrams of sodium, 80 milligrams of potassium, 19 grams of carbohydrates, less than 1 gram of fiber, 0 grams of sugar, and 1 gram of protein.)

Item: Lay’s Air Pops Original Potato Chips
Purchased Price: $2.99
Size: 3 oz. bag
Purchased at: Duane Reade
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Nice balance of salt and potato. Similar to a slightly airy Pringle. Comes in Barbecue and Sour Cream and Onion. Plenty of crumbs. Doesn’t require endorsements from pop icons to make them taste good. Crazy straws. Wrinkly bulldog faces.
Cons: Only finding the Original when you really want the Sour Cream and Onion. May be too salty for some. Kinda sorta copying Popchips and, therefore, could be accused of lacking originality. “Potato pellet.” Getting crushed by subway doors.

Sriracha is a Thai hot sauce, but also sounds like it would make a great name for a pet snake or venereal disease.

Here in the United States, many of us think of sriracha as the rooster sauce with the green cap. Some of us also call the spicy red condiment from Huy Fong Foods “cock sauce” with heavy emphasis on the “cock” and followed by giggling.

But as I have learned from some readers (and Wikipedia), sriracha isn’t only the sauce from Huy Fong Foods. Traditional Thai sriracha is usually milder and sweeter, and the companies that make them are probably glad their product isn’t called “cock sauce.”

Sriracha has seen a rise in popularity over the past few years thanks to Bon Appétit magazine calling it 2010’s Ingredient of the Year, a web comic by The Oatmeal, and the need to make bad pho broth taste better. The bottle of Huy Fong Foods’ sriracha sauce suggests putting sriracha on pasta, pizza, hot dogs, and hamburgers. And Tyler Raineri from Lake Zurich, Illinois suggested to Lay’s that they put in on a potato chip…and they did.

In order to find out how much Lay’s Do Us a Flavor Finalist Sriracha Potato Chips taste like sriracha, I had to go in search of a bottle of sriracha. Since the Thai restaurant down the street probably wouldn’t appreciate me stealing a bottle from one of their tables, I ended up at the Asian Foods section at Safeway and purchased a bottle Huy Fong Foods sriracha sauce, along with a bag of regular Lay’s chips to try them with.

The Lay’s Sriracha Potato Chips have a slight orange hue that’s not as menacing as the bright red color of the sauce, but they do make the deep fried potato slices look cheesy. Speaking of cheese, there are three of them listed in the ingredients list — cream cheese, cheddar cheese, and Swiss cheese.

Are the chips cheesy?

No, not really, but after trying sriracha-drizzled potato chips, I also wouldn’t consider them to be Huy Fong Foods sriracha-y. Instead Lay’s Do Us a Flavor Finalist Sriracha Potato Chips taste (and smell) more like another popular hot sauce — Tabasco.

Weird, right?

Even though they taste Tabasco-flavored, these chips are addictive. They have a slight sweetness and a nice spicy kick at the back end, and the amount of heat is almost comparable to actual rooster sauce. Also, the seasoning sticks to your fingers, so when you’re done eating, you’ll have a spicy treat after.

Overall, the Lay’s Do Us a Flavor Finalist Sriracha Potato Chips are very good, but, unfortunately, they didn’t get the flavor right. Tyler Raineri from Lake Zurich, Illinois should be mad about that.

(Editor’s Note: We reviewed the other two Lay’s Do Us a Flavor Finalists. Click here for the Chicken & Waffles flavor and click here for the Cheesy Garlic Bread flavor.)

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounce/about 17 chips – 150 calories, 90 calories from fat, 10 grams of fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 grams of trans fat, 135 milligrams of sodium, 320 milligrams of potassium, 15 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of fiber, 1 gram of sugar, and 2 grams of protein.)

Item: Lay’s Do Us a Flavor Finalist Sriracha Potato Chips
Purchased Price: $4.29 (on sale)
Size: 9.5 oz. bag
Purchased at: Safeway
Rating: 7 out of 10
Pros: Addictive flavor. Nice spicy kick. Sriracha would be a great name for a snake. The Oatmeal. Good pho.
Cons: Tastes more like Tabasco. Orange hue not menacing enough. Having an 8th grade sense of humor. Stealing bottled condiments from Thai restaurants. Bad pho.

Somebody at Lay’s is either confused or horny, or perhaps both. On its packaging, there’s an artist’s palette that says “Do us a Flavor.” Instead of paint blobs, there is basil, tomato and other assorted rustic ingredients on the wooden plate. What the hell does painting and flavors have anything to do with each other?

I’m not sure what Lay’s means because a palate regarding taste is different than this kind of palette. If they mean artisan by those ingredients, fine…but that’s not the same as artist. The connection between paint and edibility manifests something else entirely, which could be the worst form of subliminal message with “Do us…” I really shouldn’t overthink it because the harder I process this, the quicker my mind will melt.

The only thing I’m certain of is it’s a contest that could win me one million buckaroos if I create a new flavor (Smoked haddock and mussels, mmmm). Maybe that’s the tie that binds? Creating is what artists do and you’re an artist if you invent a new kind of chip. Either way, Lay’s is misguided because when I think of paint and eating I think of two things: Kids noshing on lead paint chips from China or edible paint on boobs (and thingies).

Let’s be honest, I’m not here to give you my thoughts on the theme of a contest. We just want to know how good or bad these LIMITED EDITION Lay’s Sweet Onion Potato Chips are.

Like the primary colors, I believe potato chips for the most part, come in three main flavors. Think of a prism when direct light beams in and the color spectrum flows out. All the other varieties fall into the wide range between the three categories as I shall explain below.

Category one is the potato chip where the potato is still the overriding taste, such as the ordinary boring potato chip or Salt & Vinegar.

Category two are the bbq-ish chips that can range from honey mesquite to ketchup flavors.

Category three is some type of sour cream, oniony garlicky concoction.

If you think about all the potato chips you’ve tasted, they should fall into one of the three.

Of course, I’m oversimplifying it as there are oddities that might not fit, like pickle or the weirdo ones from Walker’s crisps (Irish Famine or something like that). Have you seen some of their varieties? I’m not sure if I should be jealous or repulsed, maybe both.

In America, we get sweet onion which makes its home in the onion-garlic realm extremely well. I hope Lay’s reconsiders the limited edition title and makes it permanent. I also hope Lay’s reconsiders the stupid “Do us a flavor” theme but everyone is a critic in today’s string theory universe.

Upon opening this purple bag, I inhaled the zesty smell of onions. Like cutting into a red onion, a fresh acidic scent gently hit my nose. But the best part, no tears.

That was a good sign, if not a spoken promise that these onion chips were going to knock me in the ghoulies with taste. Busted testicles or not, Lay’s has a winner.

I normally eat chips one by one because I hate the grease and salt crystals that sometime coat my fingers. However, I found myself hamfisting these while watching the Olympics. Yes, I see the irony of eating chips as I watch athletes competing at a world class level, but I never wanted to swim in the 200 meters anyway.

Obvious and true, these sweet onion chips are the freaking tops. They’re sweet and musky but the pleasure of onion hugs my tongue, then the tastes build on each other before it donkeypunches my taste buds. Like a slow roar from a crowd, these chips are not subtle but they coax the intensity of sweet onion slowly.

The first thing I tasted was the heady onion, similar to a bag of Funyuns. Then the garlic slapped me on the ass and, finally, that molasses bukkaked on my face with literally sweet, sweet pleasure. I should also point out that the molasses adds complexity because it doesn’t overshadow the deepness of the chip. Finally, a touch of vinegar brings the chip to life.

Lay’s, you clever bastard. Who would’ve thought tweaking the sugar meter of a sour cream and onion chip would work? Lay’s did, and I will more than happily submit to this bag on my knees wearing a gimp mask.

Now with every fun-time, there’s a mess and these chips are very greasy. I had to wipe my hands on napkins, my trousers, and various pieces of furniture after devouring a handful. The other problem is that eating too many will numb the intensity of the flavors. I found myself on the declining end of the deliciousness curve bell by over-indulging.

The chip is well balanced between the savory onion and salt. It’s a superb thought-out snack and I beg of Lay’s to please make it a regular offering. If Donkeypunches were as good as these chips, I would walk around with knots on the back of my head every day.

(Nutrition Facts – 1 ounces/15 chips – 160 calories, 10 grams of fat, 1.5 grams of saturated fat, 0 milligrams of cholesterol, 160 milligrams of sodium,15 grams of carbohydrates, 1 gram of dietary fiber, 2 grams of sugars, and 2 grams of protein.)

Item: Limited Edition Lay’s Sweet Onion Potato Chips
Price: $4.29
Size: 10 ounce bag
Purchased at: Publix, where the cashiers are too friendly and the customers are seething
Rating: 8 out of 10
Pros: Just as the bag says, sweet onion and it’s delicious. Flavors build up nicely. Zesty scent of onions. The Olympics! The garlic and molasses adds depth as well as complexity. Donkeypunch jokes make me laugh.
Cons: Eating too many will numb the taste. Greasy as hell. NBC’s Olympics coverage has been riddled with snafu’s and spoiler ruinificationisms. Limited Edition for now. The “Do Us A Flavor” theme is ill conceived. Actually donkeypunching someone is not cool.