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Junk Food

Lay’s Do Us a Flavor Finalists: Sriracha, Cheesy Garlic Bread and Chicken & Waffles Potato Chips

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Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalists Sriracha, Cheesy Garlic Bread and Chicken & Waffles Potato Chips BagsThe three finalists for Lay’s “Do Us a Flavor” contest have been out for a little while now. And for me, “been out” is a literal term – I first spotted all three of them at my local store and picked up the Sriracha flavor, thinking at the time that I’d review each flavor separately. When I went to the store a few days later, there was a handful of Srirachas and one Cheesy Garlic Bread bag on the shelves, which I grabbed.

After that? Nothing.

It was like they’d gotten one shipment and that was that. I couldn’t find Chicken & Waffles, the obvious crazygonuts flavor of the three, anywhere. I looked, I waited, and yet…nothing.

Just when I’d resigned myself to only reviewing two of the three flavors, leaving a large, probably-disgusting-tasting chip-sized hole in my heart, I found them. I did an actual pirouette in the store. My husband pretended he didn’t know me, which is not unusual.

So here they are. The Do Us a Flavor finalists, chosen out of 3.8 million fan submissions last summer. Lucky for me, the three people who are up for a million dollars or 1% of their flavor’s 2013 sales if they win are plastered all over each of the bags, so I get to make fun of them and/or blame them for their choices.

So let’s get to these chips, presented by coincidence in order of purchase and what I anticipate to be the best-to-worst flavors.

Sriracha

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Sriracha Potato Chips Bag

Sriracha is blowin’ up right now. One might say it is on fire, if one were to make puns about hot sauce. I used to only find it at the Vietnamese market, but now it’s pretty common on your everyday grocery store shelves. You’ve probably seen it – it’s the one with the rooster on the label, which gives everyone with a 5th grade sense of humor (me) carte blanche to call it “cock sauce”.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Sriracha Potato Chips Tyler

Hello, Tyler Raineri from Lake Zurich, IL. I’m not going to make fun of people’s pictures, because you can’t pick your genetics, but you can pick your words. And if these quotes were what these people decided would be the best blurbs to represent them on chip bags nationwide, you can bet I’m going to dig in to them.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Sriracha Potato Chips Tyler Quote

Grandma’s chips and sriracha seem like an odd combination, but hell, I’d put sriracha on just about anything, so I’ll let it slide.

What really gets me is the last sentence. “Nothing’s better than old memories.” It sounds bizarre and mildly sinister, for reasons I can’t explain. We all have “old memories”, but I wouldn’t say they are literally the best thing ever. I get this weird vibe that grandma’s desiccated corpse is sitting in Tyler’s basement or something, but maybe I’ve just seen too many horror movies.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Sriracha Potato Chips

Onward to the chips. I was actually excited to try Lay’s Sriracha, because, as I mentioned, I love the cock sauce, and it seemed like a flavor that would marry well with potato chips. It’s mostly chili, vinegar, and a hint of garlic, but it has a very unique and delicious taste.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Sriracha Potato Chips Close-Up

Unfortunately, my hopes were quickly dashed. Not just dashed, but obliterated. The chips had a bit of heat to them, and a faint garlic taste, but there was also the strong presence of cream cheese and sour cream flavors.

What? What the hell is that? I checked the ingredients, and, according to Lay’s, “sriracha seasoning” contains, among other things, sour cream, cream, onion powder, cream cheese, paprika extract, cheddar cheese, and swiss cheese.

What the fuck?

With my mouth expecting sriracha, all these cheese flavors made my taste buds instantly revolt. These chips tasted wrong, wrong, wrong. So wrong, in fact, that I went and looked at some other reviews of Lay’s Sriracha Chips – something I don’t normally do until after I finish a review, for the sake of objectivity.

To my surprise, several reviewers gave these chips high marks for tasting like the hot sauce. I’m not going to pull out my “I liked sriracha before sriracha was cool and I’m a cock sauce expert” card, but I have to say, these chips taste nothing like sriracha, and the addition of all that cheese flavoring was incredibly disconcerting.

I went back and revisited Lay’s Sriracha Chips a little later, after my mouth had had time to calm down. If you pretend these chips are called “Spicy Cheese Chips” instead of “Sriracha Chips”, they’re actually not so bad. But if Tyler’s grandma could taste these chips, she’d probably roll over in her grave. Or in her rocking chair in Tyler’s basement. Either way.

Cheesy Garlic Bread

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Cheesy Garlic Bread Potato Chips Bag

With my hopes of sriracha-flavored chips crushed, I turned my attention to Cheesy Garlic Bread. I expected these to be a very middle-of-the-road flavor – take some cheese, take some garlic flavor, and there you go. However, after the sriracha disaster, I was starting to feel nervous.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Cheesy Garlic Bread Potato Chips Karen

Meet Karen Weber-Mendham from Land o’ Lakes, WI, a bold woman who is not afraid to hyphenate her name post-marriage and is also from a place that I didn’t think actually existed outside of the realm of butter.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Cheesy Garlic Bread Potato Chips Karen Quote

Everything about Karen’s quote is hilariously stupid. First off, I’m 100% positive her “favorite Italian restaurant” is the Olive Garden. It’s just one of those hunches I feel deep down inside.

Second, she’s WAITING FOREVER. That’s just bad customer service. Plus, the breadsticks are supposed to be there for when you are waiting forever. Karen, you need a new Olive Garden.

The last sentence is the icing on the cake. “Finally, the breadsticks come & they save your life!” I can’t stop reading that and laughing out loud. They save your life, people. You are sitting in a booth at the Olive Garden for so long that you are literally starving to death. I think Karen has a fondness for being melodramatic.

One more thing to nitpick about – breadsticks and cheesy garlic bread are not the same thing. If we’re taking the picture on the front of the bag to be said bread, I’ve never been to an Italian restaurant that will rock out free garlic bread like that. Maybe I was wrong about Karen’s favorite Italian restaurant. I guess I’d be more willing to WAIT FOREVER if I could get free cheesy garlic bread like that. To save my life.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Cheesy Garlic Bread Potato Chips

A strange thing happened with Lay’s Cheesy Garlic Bread Chips. They didn’t taste like cheese garlic chips at all. After the sriracha fiasco, you’d think this would have pissed me off. But quite the opposite.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Cheesy Garlic Bread Potato Chips Close-Up

Instead of tasting like cheese and garlic-flavored chips, these tasted like cheesy garlic bread. Seriously. I know it sounds weird and kind of stupid, but it’s damn true. Lay’s made a chip that tastes like a piece of bread slathered in strong garlic butter and topped with Parmesan.

At first, this had the opposite of the intended effect. It was so realistic, it was off-putting. Lay’s Cheesy Garlic Bread is in the uncanny valley of chips. The more I ate, however, the more I grew to accept this, and embrace it for its cheesy, garlicky, buttery goodness. Lay’s must be using some sort of dark magic, but I don’t care. It’s delicious dark magic.

Chicken & Waffles

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Chicken & Waffles Potato Chips Bag

Well, here we are. The Do Us a Flavor Finalist everyone’s buzzing about. Chicken & Waffles. Fuck.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Chicken & Waffles Potato Chips Christina

Meet Christina Abu-Judom from Phoenix, AZ.

…Of course. Of course she’s from the Valley in which I live. Because Phoenix doesn’t get shat on enough as the asshole of the United States, and if you are to believe television shows and movies, every murderer and child molester comes to Arizona to hide out from the cops. Thanks so much, Christina, for improving our image.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Chicken & Waffles Potato Chips Christina Quote

Aaaaaand her quote is stupid, too. Also, either her nephew is a total dick, or Christina likes to really blow things out of proportion. Can you imagine the Abu-Judom family gatherings? Either her nephew brings up this most insignificant part of his life so much that everyone tells him to shut the fuck up, or Christina herself can’t talk about anything else. “Hey nephew, remember how you never let me live down that one time I stole a bite of your waffle?” Everyone rolls their eyes and goes back to talking about how much the construction sucks on Central Ave.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Chicken & Waffles Potato Chips

I’m sad to say that there are no surprises, here. These chips are disgusting. The overwhelming taste is that of maple syrup, with undertones of a buttery waffle-like taste and just a smidge of chicken bouillon. If that sentence grossed you out, congratulations, you have a modicum of common sense.

Lay's Do Us a Flavor Finalist Chicken & Waffles Potato Chips Close-Up

I ate the barest of bare minimums of Lay’s Chicken & Waffles Chips just so I could explain the flavor to you, dear reader. I’ve eaten several very disgusting things in my time as a food reviewer, and these are honestly close to the top. If taste buds could throw up, I believe mine would have, which probably would have made my stomach throw up, resulting in one of those chain-reaction vomits that would fill my entire apartment with maple-smelling bile.

“The overwhelming taste is that of maple syrup, with undertones of a buttery waffle-like taste and just a smidge of chicken bouillon.” I just wanted to repeat that sentence to emphasize how utterly repulsive these chips are. I knew I was in for a bad trip when I bought these, but this was like, bat country bad trip.

I can’t even give much credit to Lay’s for getting the Chicken & Waffles flavor right. The syrup flavor was dominant and cloying, and the chicken very subdued, for which my taste buds were thankful. You could taste a bit of butter and waffle, though, so at least there’s…that.

I feel bad for Tyler, because his Sriracha Lay’s wound up tasting nothing like the hot sauce and more like a spicy cheese chip.

Karen got her wish, because Cheesy Garlic Bread tastes eerily like what it’s supposed to taste like. I was put off by this at first, but came to embrace the accuracy and tastiness of these chips.

I hate Christina for her stupid story and her even more stupid flavor suggestion, but I hate Lay’s the most for picking it as a finalist. You know they did it just to be jerks, and they succeeded.

I find it hard to believe that out of 3.8 million submissions, these three people made unique suggestions – especially sriracha. Regardless, you can vote on your favorite on Lay’s Facebook page until May 4, 2013. If I were the Facebook voting type, which I am not, you’ve probably gathered that I would vote for Cheesy Garlic Bread. That way, Karen could keep a bag in her purse at all times and never have to worry about starving to death again.

Lay’s Do Us a Flavor Finalist: Sriracha Potato Chips

  • Score: 2.5 out of 5 opportunities to say cock sauce
  • Price: $3.19 (on sale; regularly $3.49)
  • Size: 9 1/2 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Fry’s Foods
  • Nutritional Quirks: It bears repeating: contains sour cream, cream, onion powder, cream cheese, cheddar cheese and swiss cheese,none of which are actually in sriracha hot sauce

Lay’s Do Us a Flavor Finalist: Cheesy Garlic Bread Potato Chips

  • Score: 4.5 out of 5 uncanny valleys of snack food
  • Price: $3.49
  • Size: 9 1/2 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Safeway #1717
  • Nutritional Quirks: Dark magic not listed as an ingredient, but gouda cheese is. Fancy!

Lay’s Do Us a Flavor Finalist: Chicken & Waffles Potato Chips

  • Score: 0.5 out of 5 fuck you Christina
  • Price: $1.99 (on sale; regularly $3.49)
  • Size:9 1/2 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Safeway #1717
  • Nutritional Quirks: It’s gross. Also contains “natural flavor (including chicken flavor)”, which is not a phrase I find at all comforting.

Other Do Us a Flavor Finalist reviews: The Impulsive Buy (Chicken & Waffles, Sriracha, Cheesy Garlic Bread), Junk Food Guy, So Good, Fat Guy Food Blog

Junk Food

Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Red Velvet

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Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Red Velvet BoxHappy Valentine’s Day! Nothing says “I love you” like frosted toaster pastries.

Conversely, nothing says “I want to fatten you up so you lose all of your self-esteem and never leave me” like frosted toaster pastries.

Okay, so these Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Red Velvet aren’t technically for Valentine’s Day, but they might as well be. They came out about a month ago. They are, as the box screams, limited edition. And they are red and white.

In fact, why didn’t Kellogg’s market these as Valentine’s Day Pop-Tarts? Why isn’t their little toaster mascot wearing a diaper and holding a bow and arrow on the front of the box? Like many people on Valentine’s Day, I feel disappointed. By Pop-Tarts.

Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Red Velvet

While I’m disappointed by the missed opportunity for a holiday tie-in, I wasn’t disappointed by the appearance of Red Velvet Pop-Tarts. They were looking to emulate a red velvet cupcake, which is the most obvious sentence ever since there’s a picture of a red velvet cupcake on the freakin’ box, but they did do a pretty darn good job of it. Bright white frosting, fun red sprinkles, and a pastry shell that is red as red can be.

Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Red Velvet Back

While it’s not feasible to make a Pop-Tart to look exactly like a moist cupcake, the back of Red Velvet Pop-Tarts do a great job of looking like a brick, which I consider a plus. If you’ve ever dreamed of making an edible Fire Station, now is your time.

Am I the only person who has never noticed there’s punny little comments on the foil packages of Pop-Tarts, a la Taco Bell sauce packets? One I noticed was “I have a funny filling about this.”

Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Red Velvet Inside

Funny filling, indeed. Yeah, I’m making a terrible joke about exactly what you think I’m making a terrible joke about. Junk Food Betty is the New Yorker of food review sites.

Pop-Tarts describes their Red Velvet offering as “sweet cream-cheese-flavored filling enveloped by a red velvety crust and topped with vanilla icing and sprinkles. Toast it for a delicious treat your taste buds won’t soon forget.”

Unfortunately, I have to disagree with that last statement. My taste buds found these Pop-Tarts regrettably forgettable. I toasted them, which always makes Pop-Tarts better, but I couldn’t find any red velvet flavor in the pastry shell.

I was really looking forward to the cream-cheese-flavored filling, but what I got instead was a standard vanilla filling full of sugary sweetness. There was a tiny hint of cream cheese flavor, but I really had to concentrate to taste it. Mostly, I just tasted sweet pastry and sweet, gooey vanilla filling.

The frosting and sprinkles on top added a nice crunch to contrast the filling, but again, they added no red velvet aspect to these toaster pastries.

I wanted to like Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Red Velvet. As I mentioned, I was especially looking forward to the cream cheese filling. Cream cheese icing is the best, and I thought that this taste would really elevate these Pop-Tarts to the top of my Pop-Tarts flavor list, which is a real thing that I keep in my mind.

What I got instead was a perfectly generic Pop-Tart. Sweet frosting, sweet filling, pastry crust…Red Velvet Pop-Tarts nailed all of this, but the fact of the matter is that they’re supposed to taste like red velvet, and they do nothing of the sort.

Red Velvet Pop-Tarts do look pretty, and despite the lack of marketing as such, make a cute Valentine’s Day treat. But if you’re looking for some red velvet, do yourself a favor and go buy a real red velvet cupcake. Use these Pop-Tarts to make that edible Fire Station.

Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Red Velvet

  • Score: 2.5 out of 5 diaper-wearing toasters (or lack thereof)
  • Price: $1.99
  • Size: Box of 8 toaster pastries
  • Purchased at: Target
  • Nutritional Quirks: With the amount of food coloring that must have been added to these Pop-Tarts, I won’t be alarmed thinking I have bleeding intestines after my next trip to the bathroom. Again, the New Yorker of food blogs, ladies and gentlemen.

Foodette Reviews and The Impulsive Buy also reviewed these Pop-Tarts.

Junk Food

Darkside Skittles

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Darkside Skittles BagDarkside Skittles. Where to begin?

First of all, this is the most entertaining junk food packaging/concept I’ve seen in a long time. “The Other Side of the Rainbow”. What does that mean? I’ve never seen the other side of a rainbow, apparently. Or have I? Which side is the “other” side? I should really consult a leprechaun.

I’m pretty sure this is the “darkest”, for lack of a better word, candy concept I’ve ever seen, tie-ins to things like Disney villains notwithstanding. The dark blue packaging. The confusing yet ominous tagline. Even the flavors themselves, which I’ll get to in a moment.

There’s very little information about Darkside Skittles on the Internet, which I’m almost glad for, because it means that I can make up what kind of marketing Skittles was aiming for. I think I’ve actually figured it out, and it’s brilliant.

Darkside Skittles are the first ever commercial anti-Valentine’s Day candy.

Darkside Skittles Bag Broken Heart

I mean, just look at this heart, right on the package. It’s got an arrow through it, and the heart is broken.

The concept of Darkside Skittles is dark. The packaging is dark. The flavors are dark.

This is a candy meant for people who hate Valentine’s Day.

We all know someone who hates Valentine’s Day. Maybe they’re single; maybe they’ve had a nasty divorce or have had a string of bad relationships. Maybe they like to spout the usual rhetoric of Valentine’s Day being a holiday designed by Hallmark and Big Flowers and Candy. Maybe it’s you. Any way you slice it, there’s a large population of anti-V-Day people out there.

And Darkside Skittles are for them.

Or vampires. I can’t decide.

Darkside Skittles Bag Flavors

Let’s take a look at these flavors, which range from theme-appropriate to somewhat confusing to “what does that even mean?”

Darkside Skittles

Dark Berry: I’d file this one under “somewhat confusing”. There are many berries out there that are dark. Which one are you, Dark Berry? Are you blackberry? Blueberry? Boysenberry? Going with blackberry would have been perfect for the theme of these candies. Opportunity missed.

As it is, Dark Berry Skittles closely resemble “Berry Punch” from Wild Berry Skittles. I haven’t had Wild Berry Skittles in a while, but going from memory, they also seemed to be much alike in flavor. I wouldn’t be surprised if Skittles just poached them wholesale.

Dark Berry Skittles were true to their moniker, in that they were definitely berry-flavored but they don’t have a specific berry taste. It was kind of just…berry. Not unusual for a candy, but once I zoned on on the blackberry, it just made me more disappointed, even though I enjoyed the flavor.

Pomegranate: Well, at least this one has a straightforward name. Pomegranate has enjoyed some fad popularity of late, but it seems like an appropriate flavor for Darkside Skittles, as the arils (fancy name for seed coating; haha you just accidentally learned something) of the pomegranate are a deep, dark red. So is the juice, resembling very watery blood, which makes it a perfect choice for the Darkside.

The color of Pomegranate Skittles got pretty close to the real thing, but unlike pomegranate juice, dropping a Skittle on your shirt will not stain it forever, which is a plus. It was also the strongest flavor out of all the Darksides. It was very tart, as is real pomegranate, and actually did a pretty good job of capturing the flavor of the fruit. It lacked the depth of the real thing, but it’s also a bite-sized candy, so just coming close was a pretty good success.

Forbidden Fruit: I love the name, but had no idea what it represented until I ate one and rediscovered Original Sin. Whoops. Sorry, guys. I know, I know – a damn woman ruins things all over again. Figures.

Apparently, the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil is darkish blue in hue, and tastes a lot like tropical punch. There was a definite melon flavor, complimented by what could have been a light berry flavor. Honestly, it was kind of hard to pin down, but it was tasty nonetheless. I guess when you’re the candy that got Adam and Eve kicked out of Eden, you’re allowed to be mysterious.

Midnight Lime: Here we come to the “what does it mean?” portion of Darkside Skittles. What the fuck is a Midnight Lime? Do they taste better at midnight? Oooo, do they turn pumpkin-flavored at midnight? Now that would be impressive.

Unfortunately, I’m old and am usually in bed by midnight, so I’ll never know. What I do know is that, at any time other than midnight, Midnight Lime tastes like…lime. Lime Skittles.

Darkside Skittles Midnight Lime Comparison

I just happened to have a bag of regular Skittles around, so I did a comparison, and I found almost no difference in appearance or taste. Okay, Midnight Lime is a little bit darker, and it was actually a teensy less tart, but if I slipped a Midnight Lime into your bag of regular Skittles, I bet you’d never know it.

If anyone who doesn’t fall asleep at 9pm after drinking a warm glass of Metamucil wants to try eating them at midnight, let me know how that goes in the comments section.

Blood Orange: Like Pomegranate, this one goes out to the vampires, or the knife-wielding ex-girlfriends. Blood oranges are orange on the outside and deep scarlet on the inside, and the color of these Skittles seems to be a compromise between the two.

Real blood oranges taste almost exactly the same as navel oranges, but they add a little bit more tart with the sweetness and are 100% more likely to ruin your shirt than regular oranges.

Blood Orange Skittles did a good job at mimicking this, being just a bit more tart than regular orange Skittles. Sure, “orange” is not a flavor that screams darkness, but you add “blood” to that and you’ve instantly got a solid concept, which beats the pants off Midnight Lime.

Like I said in the intro, I love the design of Darkside Skittles and am firmly convinced they are anti-Valentine’s Day candy, an idea that just delights me. Some of the flavors, like Midnight Lime and Dark Berry, feel a little phoned in. Forbidden Fruit and Blood Orange are flavors that aren’t exactly mind-blowing, but their concepts make them solid. Pomegranate is the one truly unique flavor in Darkside Skittles, and it’s got a color made for the Other Side of the Rainbow. While it doesn’t duplicate its namesake exactly, it gets definite points for coming close.

I have no idea if Darkside Skittles are limited edition or not – if they truly are an anti-V-Day candy, you’ll be seeing them in the clearance aisle soon. If they’re just made for vampires and goth kids, I guess they’ll be sticking around for a while. Hey, even goth kids need a little candy. They can’t subsist on black clove cigarettes alone.

Darkside Skittles

  • Score: 3.5 out of 5 pats on the back for not making one Star Wars reference the entire revie- dammit!
  • Price: $2.69
  • Size: 10.5 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Target
  • Nutritional Quirks: Serious points to Pomegranate Darkside Skittles for mimicking the fruit so closely with artificial flavors.

Candy Blog also crossed over to the Darkside.

Junk Food

Limited Edition Doritos Jumpin’ Jack Tortilla Chips

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Limited Edition Doritos Jumpin' Jack Tortilla Chips BagComing up with new flavors is haaaard. Just ask Doritos. Over the years, they’ve introduced us to such gems as BBQ pork rib-flavored chips, cheeseburger-flavored chips, and even jalapeño popper-flavored chips.

It may sound like I’m being disparaging, but it’s really quite the contrary. Those popper chips were part of the inspiration for Junk Food Betty, and I always get snaxcited (registered trademark on that word forthcoming) when the people at Doritos snort some flavor powder and come out with a wacky new flavor.

A few years ago, however, someone got back on their medication and came up with the grand idea to introduce a long-retired flavor: Taco Flavor Doritos. They even gave it the retro packaging treatment.

The response was immediate and controversial. That iconic bag! That flavor you remember as a child!

…Or not, on that last one. My Taco Doritos review got more comments than any other review I’ve done. It was a war between the “tastes just like I remember”s and the “tastes nothing like the original”s. It was the Hatfield and McCoy of tortilla chips.

Originally intended as a limited edition flavor, the outcry over Taco Doritos was so deafening that they almost immediately announced that it would be staying on store shelves, and to this very day you can pick up a bag (retro or current design!) and decide for yourself if you want to be nostalgic or outraged.

Realizing they were onto something, Doritos decided to reintroduce two more flavors: Sour Cream & Onion and Salsa Rio. Don’t read the first part of that post; I just realized everything I wrote above about Taco Doritos I also said in that review. I’m a one taco-trick pony.

Like their taco-flavored brother, these flavors also came out in their original retro packaging. Unlike Señor Taco, however, they truly were limited editions. They came, they went, you cried, you complained, or, if you’re me, you were generally indifferent.

If you’ve spent the last year throwing pennies into fountains wishing you had more Sour Cream & Onion Doritos, save that change and use it to buy a bag, because they’re back! Sorry, Salsa Rio fans; Doritos doesn’t think you’re good enough. Commence with the angry letter-writing.

Actually, your angry letters might be worth something, because according to Snack Chat, Frito-Lay’s blatant-marketing-disguised-as-a-blog, it’s you who brought back Sour Cream & Onion, as well as another limited edition flavor that I’ve spent the last 400 words not talking about: Jumpin’ Jack!

“WOOHOO!” I can hear some of you shouting through the Internet. “There was a flavor of Doritos called Jumpin’ Jack?” I can hear others wondering. I fall in with the latter group.

Apparently this flavor was introduced in 1990 and discontinued shortly thereafter. While I was old enough to have tried these back then, I was not quite old enough to know or care that they existed, so I once again invite you to leave a comment letting me know:

a.) how much these remind you of munching on the original chips while wearing a slap bracelet and watching Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, or

b.) how you remember eating the original while organizing your pog collection and watching Saved by the Bell, and these throwbacks taste nothing like them.

Both are welcome and appreciated.

According to the totally gnarly bag, these aren’t just Jumpin’ Jack, which is not an actual flavor, but they are pepper jack flavor, which is a whole different ball game. When I think Jack-flavored snack, I think generic cheese blandsville. But when I think pepper jack-flavored, my expectations rise. Now you’ve gotta bring the cheese and the spice, and not just in the generic way that Doritos is so very fond of. I want a sliced cheese tortilla chip party in my mouth, and if Doritos doesn’t deliver it, I’m bouncing them right the fuck out and keeping the bottle of rum they brought. BYOB ends at the front door, mofos. No refunds.

As a side note, I think we can all agree that the “Jumpin’ Jack” font is radical. Do The Bartman.

Limited Edition Doritos Jumpin' Jack Tortilla Chips

I gotta say, the flavor of these chips was not exactly jumpin’. They weren’t at all bad, or shall I say, grody, they were just sort of…generically Dorito-flavored. There was a distinct cheese taste, but I wouldn’t immediately say, “Oh, yeah, they nailed Monterey Jack!” It was milder than, say, Nacho Cheese Doritos, but it was just kind of…”well, yeah, that’s cheese dust”.

Limited Edition Doritos Jumpin' Jack Tortilla Chips Close-Up

Since these are supposed to be pepper jack-flavored, the chips were smattered with little red and black flecks. Saving this from being yet another “cheese and spice” chip, the pepper flavor was very mild.

I actually appreciated this, because it made Jumpin’ Jack Doritos closer to pepper jack cheese, which is only mildly spicy and not snot-inducingly spicy. Heat lovers may object, but I really liked that the heat was mild. It complemented the cheese well.

As I mentioned earlier, I never had the opportunity to try these chips when they first came out, so I have no idea if this throwback is loyal to the original. However, I liked Limited Edition Jumpin’ Jack Doritos. I didn’t love them, but I certainly didn’t hate them. They’re a solid cheesy Dorito offering with a nice, mild heat level. If they do go away, I won’t cry like Jessie Spano on caffeine pills, but if Doritos decides to keep them on store shelves, I may pick up a bag to munch on while I watch my VHS copy of Gremlins 2: The New Batch.

Limited Edition Doritos Jumpin’ Jack Tortilla Chips

  • Score: 3 out of 5 Bell Biv Devoe cassette tapes
  • Price: $1.49
  • Size: 3 3/8 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Circle K #2821
  • Nutritional Quirks: Monterey Jack cheese is listed as an ingredient, but it’s pretty far down the list. In fact, sour cream places higher than the cheese itself.

Food Junk and The Impulsive Buy also did some Jumpin’ Jacks.

Junk Food

M&Ms White Chocolate Peppermint

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It’s Christmas Eve, and I have a couple of holiday-themed items left to review and no time to review them! I’m like a frantic last-minute gift-shopper. Unfortunately, I can’t just go to JC Penney and pay them to wrap these reviews up for me. Although the idea of attempting that is amusing.

This is my way of apologizing for what will be a short review. Short but sweet. Like candy!

What a terrible segue.

M&Ms White Chocolate Peppermint are a new edition to the melts-in-your-mouth family this holiday season. They follow another white chocolate holiday M&M – White Chocolate Candy Corn.

I’m not quite sure why they decided to go with white chocolate for this flavor. Regular chocolate goes quite well with peppermint – why not work with that? Oh, wait – Mint Dark Chocolate M&Ms already exist. Maybe they figured making a Milk Chocolate Peppermint would be too similar?

Enough speculation. My brain doesn’t have time for this. It’s already thinking about ham. Christmas ham, of course; I don’t just sit around thinking about ham all the time. That I’ll admit to on the Internet.

M&Ms usually puts some effort in the packaging department, and White Chocolate Peppermints are no exception. Red and white stripes adorn the sides, obviously meant to represent the stripes on a candy cane.

Red M&M was an obvious choice to represent this flavor, and he’s wearing what I would call a Santa hat, except it has stripes and hangs down to his feet, which honestly looks more like some sort of Dr. Seuss accessory than what Mr. Claus would wear, but hey.

I’m really into Red M&M’s facial expression and gesturing. His outstretched arms say, “Hey, check out these White Chocolate Peppermint M&Ms, hm? Nice, right?” His half-lidded eyes and bizarre mouth configuration give off a distinct “Ladies, maybe you want some minty chocolates?”

His eyebrows seem to have migrated onto the fur trim of his hat. I have no interpretation for that one.

White Chocolate Peppermint M&Ms are about the same diameter as regular M&Ms, but seem a bit fatter. As I expected, one whiff from the bag filled my nostrils with the scent of candy cane. Not just peppermint – candy cane. An important distinction, and one that makes me wonder why M&Ms didn’t call these White Chocolate Candy Cane. It is both more accurate and more festive!

It would have been fun to see some red candy bits inside the M&Ms themselves, but these innards look like your typical white chocolate. Upon shoving a handful into my mouth, however, I was greeted with minty candy cane goodness. It was like sucking on a candy cane itself, minus the part where the end of the cane turns into a point sharp enough to kill someone and/or jab your gums painfully.

The crunch of the outer shell helped to add even more candy cane…ness to the M&Ms, and my mouth was transformed into a minty Christmas wonderland. The accuracy of the flavor was spot-on. However, candy cane is a strong flavor, which means that it completely overwhelmed the flavor of the white chocolate.

Going back to my original query as to why these M&Ms are white and not milk chocolate, I think they actually made a smart choice here. The white chocolate is naught but a delivery system for the peppermint flavor. It lends the texture of chocolate, but knows not to interfere with this decidedly Christmas taste.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’m still baffled in regards to why M&Ms didn’t call these White Chocolate Candy Cane. Everything from the packaging to the color of the candies to the taste itself screams it, and yet they went with peppermint. While I find this to be a sadly missed opportunity, rest assured that if you need to get your candy cane fix, you can stop sneaking around stealing decorations off the Christmas tree and just grab a handful of M&Ms White Chocolate Peppermint instead. Unless you like stabbing yourself in the gums.

M&Ms White Chocolate Peppermint

  • Score: 4 out of 5 HEY DID I MENTION THESE SHOULD BE CALLED CANDY CANE AND NOT PEPPERMINT ENOUGH TIMES
  • Price: $2.99
  • Size: 9.90 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Target
  • Nutritional Quirks: Not much unexpected here – sugar, sugar, and more sugar. No mint or artificial flavors listed, so I’m guessing “natural flavor” means “minty elf blood”.

Candy Blog and The Impulsive Buy also reviewed M&Ms White Chocolate Peppermint.

Junk Food

Limited Edition Gingerbread Oreo

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Nabisco’s been spitting out new Oreo flavors like hotcakes recently. I’d like to think that this is the reason their Limited Edition Gingerbread Oreo package is so goddamn boring.

I mean, look at that thing. Yellow – one of the classic Christmas colors, of course. An Oreo. And a gingerbread man that looks like he was decorated by the most unimaginative person on earth. Nary a Santa hat, tree ornament, or even a snowflake in sight.

Ah well, at least the gingerbread man looks happy. I’m assuming because he’s got the spotlight all to himself.

Can I stress all to himself? Because there’s not even a gingerbread man imprint on the cookie. In fact, if not for the scent that wafted out after I opened the package, just looking at the cookie itself, it just looks like a Golden Oreo. My heart just shrunk a size.

If the gingerbread man knew that his friends had been ground up and turned into a creamy paste, he might not be smiling so happily on the package.

Fortunately for Oreos, however, the boring packaging and cookie itself are masking a hidden treasure of gingerbread goodness. The creme does a great job of mixing the tastes of brown sugar, cinnamon, a bit of molasses, and whatever the hell else goes into making gingerbread cookies. I’m assuming one of those is ginger, but you wouldn’t know it from the ingredients list, which reads something like “sugar, sugar, flour, oil, sugar, oil, and natural and artificial flavors”.

Those last two really seem to be carrying the weight of making this cookie taste so much like actual gingerbread, and I have to admit, using the Golden Oreo as a vehicle for the creme was a good choice. The cookies add their own sweetness, but don’t interfere with the gingerbread flavor.

Well, that’s it. Shortest review ever.

Do you feel a little disappointed? I know I do. So much so, in fact, that I decided to try and eek some real Christmas spirit out of these cookies and make a Gingerbread Oreo house.

I have never made a gingerbread house. In fact, I’ve never really made anything out of food, unless you count the times I’d scrape the disgusting peanut butter out of the cheese cracker sandwiches they fed us in elementary school day care and made sculptures of noses out of it. Noses? I don’t know why, either, but it’s the only thing I remember sculpting. Maybe it had to do with the chronic sinusitis I had as a child.

Come to think of it, I have little to no knowledge or experience in architecture, structural integrity, infrastructure support, or pretty much any other subject that would help me build a house out of cookies.

This may not go well.

Many things went wrong during this experiment, as you may imagine. At first, I tried cutting the Gingerbread Oreos in half and using the flat base as a foundation, anchored by Gingerbread Oreo creme. I summoned my inner “everything I’ve learned from watching reality baking shows” and tried to roll the creme I’d carefully scraped off the cookies between my palms to act as an edible glue.

As it turns out, Oreo creme is neither fondant nor modeling chocolate, and rolling it between your palms results in…well, a bunch of delicious-smelling Oreo filling stuck to your hands. Thank god the odor of Gingerbread Oreos is quite pleasant. My hands smelled like Christmas.

Worried that this project would never even get off the ground floor, literally, I took some whole Gingerbread Oreos and just started smashing them together, because that’s the obvious next step. Surprisingly, this actually worked. I took my Oreo halves and smushed them onto the first ones, making a second layer.

I was pretty proud that I’d managed to make a second layer that didn’t immediately collapse, but soon realized I could go no further. That’s okay though, because I’d already thought of a roofing plan – White Chocolate Peppermint Pringles.

The main problem with this step is that I had no roof. I was determined to use the Pringles, however; they’ve been sitting around irritating me, and I figured this would be a safer use than chucking the canister at a random stranger, which is an urge I’d been fighting pretty much since I reviewed them.

Looking around the kitchen for something to save my gingerbread “house”, I found the perfect roofing material: Hot Chocolate Pop-Tarts!

I probably could have stuck the Pringles onto the Pop-Tarts with some of that Oreo creme, but I already knew there was no saving this disaster, so this is the finished product. The worst gingerbread house ever.

I love it.

Nabisco made the most boring packaging ever for Gingerbread Oreos, which is a shame, but I had fun spending half an hour making a horrible abomination out of them, so there is that. Plus, they taste and smell quite like gingerbread, which is, I suppose, the salient point. Much like my gingerbread “house”, I have a feeling the remaining Limited Edition Gingerbread Oreos won’t last long, because while they may not look like Christmas, they definitely taste like it.

Limited Edition Gingerbread Oreo

  • Score: 3.5 out of 5 realizations that I will never win a Food Network Challenge
  • Price: $2.68
  • Size: 15.25 oz. package
  • Purchased at: Walmart
  • Nutritional Quirks: Zero ingredients of actual gingerbread cookies listed, and yet, tastes like gingerbread. Christmas magic.
Junk Food

Kettle Brand Potato Chips 30th Birthday Limited Batch Red Chili, Jalapeño Jack, Salsa with Mesquite and Cheddar Beer

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Happy 30th Birthday, Kettle Potato Chips! I realize I’m a little late. Consider this your belated birthday card. Pretend it says something “funny” about me being old and forgetful. Preferably with the word “fart” involved, because that’s comedy gold in the world of greeting cards.

But this is not about me. This is about Kettle. You can read a little bit about the history of the company here, but here are the salient points: busted-up van selling chips and a picture of six people that shows definitive proof that Kettle Chips did, indeed, start in 1982.

Seriously, go look at that picture. We’ve got two guys wearing all white, one that looks like a professor of Sociology who has experimented liberally with LSD while the other is rocking a badass ‘stache and probably drove a sweet ’78 Camero with an extensive Zepplin cassette library in the center console.

The lone female in this picture looks like she’s wearing a stylish cowgirl shirt. She probably makes a mean pot of chili. She’s sitting comfortably close to a man wearing a knit cap before knit caps were cool and sporting an impressive beard. The familiarity of the two in the photo suggests they’re a couple; he probably chops his own wood and shoots deer for food, not sport. Maybe he even mined for gold before mining for gold was the subject of 700 different Discovery Channel reality shows.

In the middle we have the very picture of early 1980’s youth – a magnificent mane, moppy and tow-headed, a wide smile on his face conveying optimism and a healthy work ethic. He appears to be wearing a rubber apron, which means he either shucks oysters after school to help out his family or they make him do all the chip frying because he’s the low man on the kettle totem pole. If he played his cards right, he is probably very rich now.

Last but not least, we have Cool 80’s Dude. Everything about him, from that haircut to that stylish jersey shirt to that smug smile says, “Hey ladies.” More interested in chasing tail than making chips, he was probably in charge of standing outside the van, flashing those pearly whites and using his obvious charisma to draw in sales.

I also hope their van had a kickass mural of a barbarian dude in a loincloth standing in front of a volcano, sword held high in the air, while two scantily-clad ladies cling to his massive, muscular thighs. The other side has a wizard summoning lightning from the sky while a unicorn rears up in glory.

In reality, the van probably just had a bunch of chipped avocado-colored paint and maybe the words “Kettle Chips” crookedly stenciled on the side in spray paint.

Enough picking the low-hanging fruit of mocking the way people looked in 1982. I’m lucky Kettle blessed me with that photograph, because their packaging is severely lacking in ridiculousness to make fun of. It’s clean, it’s simple, it’s classy, and it’s the same format for all four flavors. Kudos for that, Kettle, even though I’d have had more to work with if there was a panda doing an ollie over your logo or something. That’s okay; we’ve got a lot of chips to check out, here.

A little blurb from Kettle:

There’s a reason why timeless classics never go out of style, and why we’ll forever covet dad’s vintage cars and grandma’s pearls. We’re bringing back four of our favorite retired flavors to celebrate turning the big 3-0 this year: Red Chili, Jalapeño Jack, Salsa with Mesquite and Cheddar Beer. Our four limited edition flavors celebrate 30 years of what Kettle Brand® does best: coming up with innovative flavors and making great tasting products, naturally.

Well, these flavors must have gone at least a little out of style, considering they were all discontinued. And I’m not even gonna touch that “grandma’s pearls” comment. Let’s just look at the chips.

Kettle Brand Potato Chips Red Chili Limited Batch

Kettle says:

Hold on to your time machine, because it’s a blast from the past with this sweet and spicy flavor classic. Red Chili was our very first flavor produced in 1982, after Sea Salt, and marries the flavor of sriracha sauce with a sprinkle of cayenne pepper for a searing chili sensation that leaves just the right amount of heat on the tip of your tongue. We’re sure this Kettle Brand® flavor favorite will set off a symphony of fireworks in your mouth.

I love that Red Chili was the second Kettle Brand flavor ever created. Most companies would go for salt and vinegar, or maybe cheese, but not Kettle Brand. Red Chili! With sriracha, no less! I’ve seen sriracha rise in popularity in recent years, even inspiring a popcorn collaboration with The Oatmeal. I guess you know you’ve arrived on the Internet when you get your own food product. Junk Food Betty Smothered Meat Patties, anyone?

Anyways, there was no Internet to go insane about foods in 1982, so I count Kettle using sriracha as an ingredient in their chips to be way ahead of the curve. Feel free to say something like “I was eating chips with sriracha before sriracha was cool” if you actually ate these Red Chili chips back in the day.

While there’s not much to say about the nicely-designed front of the packaging of these 30th birthday chips, each bag has a cute little blurb on the back that I’d feel remiss if I didn’t include them.

You go, Jimmy. You’re an inspiration to us all.

I tried the chips before I read Kettle’s description of Red Chili, and while I guess my palate isn’t refined enough to have immediately identified the sriracha, once I knew it was there, it explained how nicely Kettle Brand managed to capture the flavor of chilis.

I’ve eaten a lot of “chili” chips in my day, and Kettle Brand Red Chili was among the best, in my opinion. Instead of just being generically spicy, there was the actual flavor of chili, not just the heat. In fact, the flavor came through even before the heat, which built nicely but didn’t overwhelm. I’m glad they didn’t actually “sear”, as Kettle’s description says.

I really was impressed by these chips, and am sad that they are a limited edition flavor. Perhaps someone will start an Internet petition and bring them back! Internet petitions always work, right? JIMMY, GET ON IT!

Kettle Brand Potato Chips Jalapeño Jack Limited Batch

From Kettle:

Who needs the cheese slice when you have this Southwestern cheesy blend on a crunchy, perfectly cooked chip? The second oldest flavor in the collection, this 1989 classic has the same creamy flavor as Jack cheese but packs a fiery punch with peppercorns and jalapeño pepper that you can actually see.

Jack is obviously an egomaniac, but I feel I’ve learned so much about him in these two little paragraphs that I really don’t have the heart to tell him that his name is also a cheese. He also must not know much about cheese.

I came into Kettle Brand’s Jalapeño Jack with the feeling that I’d be tasting something I’d tasted a hundred times before: spice + cheese. Woohoo. Furthermore, we’re talking about Jack cheese, which has a mild taste that most chips render invisible by overpowering it with spice, or add a cheese flavor that doesn’t taste anything like actual Jack cheese.

Without trying to sound overdramatic, this was possibly the first time I have ever actually tasted Jack flavor on a chip that claimed to have Jack flavor. I don’t know what kind of dark magic Kettle used to achieve this, but it was wonderful to taste.

This feat is even more impressive when you consider that Jack’s companion is jalapeño. Kettle taught jalapeño some manners – it politely let the flavor of Jack go first, and then came in soon afterwards to compliment it instead of overwhelming it. There was just the right amount of heat. I wouldn’t go so far as to never buy jalapeño jack cheese ever again – I could give about a dozen answers to the question “who needs the cheese slice” that Kettle imposed – but these were some damn hell good chips. I found myself wishing once again that these weren’t a limited edition flavor.

Kettle Brand Potato Chips Salsa with Mesquite Limited Batch

From Kettle:

We all know the chip is a vehicle for party dip, but our Salsa with Mesquite cuts out the middle man for a smoky-sweet salsa everyone can agree on! No chunks in this one-just the unmatched flavor combination of sweet tomatoes and bell pepper, with a sneaky and sultry mesquite smokiness. Launched in 1999, our fans have been pining for this zesty dip-on-chip ever since.

Much like with pepper jack cheese, I think we all know that a salsa-flavored chip could never replace actual chips and salsa. However, Kettle Brand does their best, and they do a pretty good job. I could definitely taste the tomato and onion flavors, and there was a bit of zip without really being spicy, which I guess I could attribute to the bell pepper.

The mesquite flavor was a subtle finish. I wouldn’t exactly call it “sultry” – in fact, please kick me if I ever describe a chip as “sultry” – but it was a nice touch.

Salsa with Mesquite is a solid chip, but I didn’t exactly find anything surprising or groundbreaking about it. The taste delivered, but there’s a lot of other chips out there with similar flavor profiles.

I could go without hearing the phrase “smoky two-step for your tongue” ever again. And the hips reference just made me cringe. I’d prefer to hear more about Jimmy and Jack.

Kettle Brand Potato Chips Cheddar Beer Limited Batch

Go Kettle:

Who can resist the hearty flavors of the Midwest? Robust and malty beer notes are layered on this chip with extra sharp and tangy cheese for a perfect balance that goes down smooth. Smooth as a beer we think, but we’ll let you decide. And we have to tip our hats to the fans on this one, who chose this flavor during our first People’s Choice vote in 2005.

I love that Kettle chose to use the word “partying” when they obviously mean “getting super drunk off of kegstands, hitting on your best friend’s girlfriend, and then puking over the banister”. We all know what you mean, Kettle. And I wouldn’t worry about the chips part – I don’t think anyone considers making potato chips “partying”. Then again, people build boats inside bottles for fun, so.

There’s a reason you shouldn’t let people on the Internet decide what flavor your next chip offering is going to be, and Cheddar Beer is a good example. I’m sure people saw “beer” and went “FUCK YEAH BEER CHIPS!”

There’s also a good reason these were discontinued, presumably not long after 2005. The chips started out with a pleasant although mild cheese flavor that would have made for a perfectly acceptable chip.

However, the cheese flavor soon gives way to an odd, bitter taste, that only resembles beer if you’ve been drinking some very crappy beer. I guess that keeps with the spirit of “partying”, since frat parties aren’t exactly stocked with the finest beers from the local microbrewery.

The bitterness stays long after the cheddar has disappeared, along with another, more subtle flavor, which I will blindly attribute to the ingredient “tortula yeast”, which makes me think “tortuga yeast”, which seems bad in any situation.

Kettle Brand Cheddar Beer Chips have at least taught me one thing, and that is that you should not make beer-flavored chips. This is one flavor I’d like to see kept retired.

All in all, I like that Kettle Brand Chips decided to trot out some old-timey flavors to celebrate their 30th birthday. It’s a fine gimmick, the bag design is well-executed, and I love all the little blurbs on the back that tell a little story about the flavors. It makes me feel like Kettle is still being run by six people in a shitty van and not some giant, faceless mega-corporation. Whether or not this is true, I don’t care. I had fun eating them, writing about them, and taking 700 pictures of them.

Kettle Brand Potato Chips 30th Birthday Limited Batch Red Chili, Jalapeño Jack, Salsa with Mesquite and Cheddar Beer

  • Score (Red Chili): 4.5 out of 5 “I knew sriracha before sriracha was cool” old hipsters
  • Score (Jalapeño Jack): 5 out of 5 egomaniacal security guards
  • Score (Salsa with Mesquite): 4 out of 5 unwanted honest hips
  • Score (Cheddar Beer): 2.5 out of 5  puking frat boys
  • Price: $14.99 (before shipping)
  • Size: 5 5 oz. bags (including Sea Salt; not pictured)
  • Purchased at: Kettle Brand’s website
  • Nutritional Quirks: Sriracha! Yay! Tortuga yeast. Boo.
Junk Food

Limited Time Only Pringles Cinnamon & Sugar and White Chocolate Peppermint

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In my last post about Pumpkin Pie Spice Pringles, I mentioned that Pringles went insane three times this holiday season, and that I would get to the other two at another time. Well it turns out that time is now!

Reviewing Pringles twice in a row is a bit of a challenge, since I blew my preamble wad on the last review, what with the discussion about feeling like a cheap whore after eating Pringles since they are not actually chips and what have you. A friend of mine suggested some freestyle rapping, at which point I grabbed his face, got Batman Close, and asked him if I looked like the kind of person who would freestyle rap.

After he ran away crying, I looked at the blinking cursor mocking me on my monitor and actually gave it some consideration.

Realizing that it was sad that it had come to rapping about poppin’ and not stoppin’, I decided maybe it would be best to just jump into things. Then I realized Kris Kringle rhymes with Pringle, and hit ctrl+b before I lost my shit completely. Oh my god, I can’t stop rhyming. Please help me.

Limited Time Only Pringles Cinnamon & Sugar

Sometimes I feel like the title of my posts ruins the fun. It’s a necessary evil, but it’s a total spoiler. I just want to get the elephant in the room out of the way and say that Cinnamon & Sugar Pringles are not the most exciting part of this review. Sorry guys, but it’s true.

However, in my family we had a rule on Christmas morning that you had to open your stocking before you could open your presents. So let’s wade through this metaphorical menagerie of oranges, toothbrushes, Hot Wheels and dollar bills before we get to the big-ticket item. It’s only proper.

 

Now, don’t get me wrong – cinnamon sugar flavored potato crisps are still sound weird and unnatural, even if they may seem tame in comparison to the other Pringles in this review. But then I remembered last year’s experience with Mission Sugar Cinnamon Tortilla Chips and realized that maybe I shouldn’t judge a can by its cover.

That said, let’s judge a can by its cover.

Like Pumpkin Pie Spice Pringles, Cinnamon & Sugar gets all meta with their can-on-a-can design. C&S doesn’t get anything as cool as a can-shaped pumpkin, though; instead, they get some little swirlies that don’t have much to do with cinnamon, sugar, or Christmas in general. Pft.

As if to make up for this, the metacan is stuffed to the gills with cinnamon sticks. I’ll admit that it’s probably difficult to represent sugar in any way that wouldn’t make it look like a pile of snow and/or blow (the rhyming, it haunts me), so I guess those little twinkles on top of the sticks are supposed to be sugar. That, or magic.

Trust me, it’s not magic. As I popped the top, I was met with the odor of cinnamon almost as strong as those damn pine cones they put in the front of grocery stores every Christmas that make me sneeze. I was okay with that, though; I took it as a good sign.

And indeed it was. There was a heavy dusting of both cinnamon and sugar on each potato crisp, and both flavors were pleasant and worked well with each other. Because the flavors were so strong, they blocked out most of the flavor of the actual potato crisp, which was a good thing.

Note the word “most”, though. You can’t keep a mediocre potato crisp down, so inevitably I got some Pringles flavor creeping in at the end, ruining the fun cinnamon and sugar party.

Limited Time Only Pringles Cinnamon & Sugar aren’t completely awful, they just aren’t in any way impressive. Furthermore, there’s no real reason for them to exist. Do you want Pringles? Buy some Pringles. Do you want cinnamon and sugar? Buy a coffee cake or some shit. But really, who wants Pringles and cinnamon/sugar? The answer is no one. Well, there’s probably someone out there. But not the type of person I’d want to associate with.

Limited Time Only Pringles White Chocolate Peppermint

We’ve arrived. White Chocolate fucking Peppermint fucking Pringles. Again, there is no reason for these to exist. This is a road that can only lead to bad things.

To add insult to injury, this was my White Whale. Call me Ahab. I went to two different Walmarts and two different Targets just to find these goddamn things. Like I didn’t hate the idea of eating them already, they made me go to two Walmarts. In the spirit of the Christmas season, I mangled a public domain song in their honor:
Pringle bells, oh Pringle bells
Pringle hate in my heart
Oh, how sad it is to walk
With an empty goddamn cart

Yeah, it’s no good. I should have stuck with Kris Pringle.

When I finally found these Pringles, it was a bittersweet victory, for obvious reasons. As I was checking out, the cashier rang up the can, and then looked at it, seemingly puzzled. “Huh, I’ve never seen these before,” he said, which is telling, since he worked there. I take this as proof that I was the first and only person to buy these, because they are stupid.

I should know better than to engage people in conversations when I’m buying review food. Case in point: the Double Down incident.

But I never learn my lesson, and for some reason I felt the need to explain my purchase, so I casually mentioned that I review weird foods on the internet.

Whoops.

The cashier then launched into this thing about how when he likes to try weird foods, a statement that I for some reason found unsettling from the start, he goes to the nearby Vietnamese market, where you can “try things like durian”. He was super into telling me about this place, which really had nothing to do with what I’d said, and which I already knew existed. For some reason he left the can of Pringles on the counter as he bagged the rest of my purchases.

This left me wondering if he’d just become distracted, or if he left them out like some half-drank water bottle somebody picked up while they were shopping. Did he think I would be needing them immediately? That I would have the urge to rip off the top and start munching on them in the parking lot? I have no idea. I just wanted him to stop talking. So I bagged them myself, which for some reason felt even more embarrassing than just buying them.

Also, you can’t fool me, Target cashier. I know what durian is.

The White Chocolate Peppermint Pringles can is deceivingly cute. Awww, it’s a candy cane can, with white chocolate melting out over the top, and a bunch of candy canes inside! The white chocolate also resembles the top of a Christmas stocking, or maybe snow. Or maybe it’s trying to escape, because it knows it doesn’t belong in a can of Pringles.

Even the Pringles man seems to be looking up at the candy canes with an expression that says, “Really? We’re going to do this?”

So yeah, here are these fucking White Chocolate Peppermint Pringles. They look fairly innocent. I am not fooled.

When you pop open the can, there’s a smell akin to ripping open a box with a Barbie doll inside on Christmas morning. Just vague plasticness. There’s really no peppermint or white chocolate smell at all. Is this a good sign or a bad sign?

Oddly, there were little black flecks sprinkled on most of the otherwise white dust-covered Pringles. If Pringles were chips, I’d chock that up to a little bit of burning during the frying process. But Pringles are like plyboard, and I’d never seen these flecks on any other Pringle. Why are they there? Then again, we’re talking about White Chocolate Peppermint Pringles. None of these things should be there.

I had no idea what to expect when I tasted these Pringles. There are times when I hope something will actually taste like what it says it tastes like, and then there are times when I pray that things taste nothing like what they’re supposed to taste like. In the case of White Chocolate Peppermint Pringles, I was hoping for the latter.

Unfortunately, my hopes were dashed.

These Pringles tasted exactly like how they’re supposed to, and my taste buds wanted to go to their special place and pretend this wasn’t happening. They tried desperately to pretend they were experiencing the best spinach artichoke dip in the world, or the most juicy, flavorful steak.

But try as they might, my taste buds could not deny what was happening. There was no happy place. Immediately upon hitting my tongue, there was the unmistakeable and rather strong flavor of white chocolate.

This was soon engulfed by a strong peppermint. But not just any peppermint – it really did taste like candy cane peppermint. In fact, it tasted like someone had shoved a candy cane right in my mouth. Unwillingly. The flavor powder got on my lips, so that even after I’d choked down the chip, it felt like I’d just applied a coating of holiday-themed lip gloss, complete with mild mint burning sensation. My poor lips, even they were not safe.

Should I give points to Pringles for nailing a flavor so unlikely for a potato crisp? No, because they’re gross. They’re gross and disturbing. Do you pop a mint right before you dive into a plate of nachos? Of course not. White chocolate and peppermint have their place in the Christmas flavor spectrum. They even go well together. But Limited Time Only Pringles White Chocolate Peppermint are so very wrong, and I’m sure they were created purely for the Internet hype machine that loves bizarre foods. If you don’t trust me, make a batch of instant potatoes and stir in a white chocolate candy bar and some crushed candy canes. Enjoy, you freak.

Limited Time Only Pringles Cinnamon & Sugar

  • Score: 2 out of 5 piles of blow. I mean snow. I mean sugar.
  • Price: $1.50
  • Size: 6.38 oz. can
  • Purchased at: Walmart
  • Nutritional Quirks: Both cinnamon and sugar are listed as ingredients, which makes the flavor powder on these Pringles more “real” than the crisps themselves.

Limited Time Only Pringles White Chocolate Peppermint

  • Score: 0.5 out of 5 Kris Pringles looking disgusted
  • Price: $1.52
  • Size: 6.38 oz. can
  • Purchased at: Target
  • Nutritional Quirks: Is it the anhydrous milk fat or the sweet cream solids that make these so magical? I can’t decide!

Dinosaur Dracula, So Good and The Impulsive Buy also braved these holiday Pringles.

Junk Food

Limited Time Only Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice

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Happy Thanksgiving! Pumpkin Pie Pringles.

I mentioned in an earlier post that if I saw one more thing pumpkin spice-flavored for the holidays that I was going to flip out and cause an “incident” at the grocery store. My annoyance with pumpkin spice remains – adding some nutmeg and cinnamon to your frozen waffles and calling it a limited time holiday blah blah is a cheap ploy.

However, we all know there are exceptions to every rule, and this is one of them, for reasons I don’t need to explain but will anyways. These are Pringles, and they are Pumpkin Pie Spice-flavored. Yeah. No explanation needed.

Pringles aren’t really potato chips, per se. They’re dried potatoes pressed into a shape that can be used to make a duck bill-face that will amuse your three-year-old nephew for about five seconds. This shape is also convenient for stacking in their iconic cardboard tubes, which I’m sure we’ve all used as a coin bank at some point in our lives. Sour cream and onion dimes.

My friends and I butt heads about many things, mostly because arguing with each other is our #1 pastime. We seem to have come to an agreement about Pringles, however. And yes, these are the things we talk about. Pringles.

The conclusion we came to about Pringles is that we never really seek them out. I wouldn’t choose Pringles over, say, a kettle chip, or a regular chip, or…well, pretty much anything that can legally be called a chip and not a dried potato product. They are like salted tater cardboard. In fact, I actually feel a little odd eating them, like I’m eating something that should not be.

And yet, the unanimous yet guilt-ridden confession from all of us was that, if there were Pringles were placed in front of us, we would eat them. A stack of them, in fact. I don’t know why; it’s just one of those things. Maybe it’s the fact that they seem saltier than chips, which allows us to pretend that we’re eating a normal salty snack and not something that’s one step removed from instant mashed potato flakes.

The essence of Pringles themselves is not the main focus here, however. The main focus is PUMPKIN PIE SPICE PRINGLES WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE.

Pringles has gone insane. Not just one time, but three times. You’ll see more on that in later posts. Teaser alert.

So, yeah. Pumpkin Pie Spice Pringles. That’s just so fundamentally wrong. Which is probably why they created them. As long as the Internet hype machine continues to feed into batshit crazy food products, companies will continue to create them.

I’m obviously thrilled about this. Right up until the time when I realize I actually have to eat them.

I have to say, though, Pringles really committed to this flavor, and it shows in the packaging. That’s a beautiful pumpkin nestled amongst those cinnamon sticks. It’s the type of pumpkin that’s begging to have a face carved into it, but since we’re past that holiday, it’s going to be used to make a pie, which also happens to be the lovely and innocuous backdrop on the can to announce the unnatural flavor that lies inside.

Almost unnoticed but possibly the best part, there’s some can-on-can action going on! There’s a pumpkin can on the can! I’ve never seen a pumpkin shaped like that, but I love it. I want my Pringles in an actual pumpkin can. Not really a viable option, but-

Wait, what am I saying? Don’t suck me in with your strange yet adorable packaging, Pringles. Gotta keep my eye on what’s really going on, here. Dried potato crisps flavored like pumpkin pie.

I tend to give the sniff test to things that I think are going to taste gross. You’d think I’d just want to shove them in my mouth and get it over with, but I guess I’m just a masochist like that.

When I administered the sniff test to my can of Limited Time Only Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice, I smelled…pumpkin pie. Cinnamon, sugar, nutmeg…I swear I even smelled a hint of crust.

Encouraging, right?

Taking not gagging at the smell as a good sign, I dove right in to the potato crisps. Lo and behold, they tasted like…pumpkin goddamn pie.

Well, pretty much. Again, the cinnamon, sugar and nutmeg were all present, and the essence of pumpkin pie was immediate. I found myself not repulsed, but a little creeped out. The flavor and the powder dusting were just right, in that all the flavors were there and worked together without being overpowering.

The downfall of Pumpkin Pie Spice Pringles lies in the Pringles themselves. The pie flavor recedes rather quickly, but the Pringle has more staying power, leaving you with dried potato and salt mixed with pumpkin pie. This is not a nice finish.

The ability of Limited Time Only Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice to capture the actual flavor of pumpkin pie spice left my mouth confused. On the one hand, I wanted to praise them for their accuracy. On the other hand, I wanted to hate them…for their accuracy. As I said before, it’s just creepy.

Luckily, Pringles saved me the trouble of trying to come to terms with my feelings by being Pringles. What starts off tasty quickly turns unsettling, as pumpkin pie battles salty dried potatoes, and the potatoes win. You can put all the spices you want on the Pringles, but you can’t take the Pringles out of Pringles.

Limited Time Only Pringles Pumpkin Pie Spice

  • Score: 2 out of 5 Pringles duck bills
  • Price: $1.50
  • Size: 6.38 oz. can
  • Purchased at: Walmart (exclusive)
  • Nutritional Quirks: Pumpkin not listed as an ingredient! Shocking! Contains less than 2% of “natural flavors”! Also shocking!

Fat Guy Foodblog and The Impulsive Buy also prepared their palates for Pumpkin Pie Pringles.

Junk Food

Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Marshmallow Hot Chocolate Toaster Pastries

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It’s that time of year to break out the fleece blankets and fire up the furnace. Well, for some of you, you’ve already had your fair share of cold and disastrous weather; for me, I just turned on the heater for the first time in about nine months, releasing that disgusting but all-too-familiar odor that I can only imagine is caused by the burning of accumulated dust and pet hair. Mmmm, the smells of autumn.

Of course, no cold and dreary day curled up in your Snuggie watching that Hoarders marathon would be complete without a cup of hot chocolate. Hot chocolate does not discriminate by age; whether you’re young, old, or experiencing a mid-life crisis, you can always enjoy a cup of hot cocoa without anyone judging you.

In fact, you can even add marshmallows and nobody will bat an eye. How often do adults get to do that, minus being at a bonfire? Marshmallows in your hot chocolate? Accepted, even encouraged. Marshmallows in your cereal? Grow up, dude. You’re being immature. Or you’re an Internet food reviewer.

Of course, you can’t always have hot chocolate and marshmallows at your fingertips. …Well, actually, I suppose you can, thanks to one Swiss Miss. But Pop-Tarts wants to make sure you have it in edible form with their Limited Edition Frosted Marshmallow Hot Chocolate Toaster Pastries.

Props on the packaging, first of all. Completely holiday-neutral while still conveying a winter wonderland, which means you can enjoy these Pop-Tarts from now until Kellogg’s comes out with a Valentine’s Day Limited Edition Red Velvet Cake Pop-Tart. Man, I should be in marketing.

We’ve got a mug of hot chocolate, steaming hot and inviting as snow falls around it; quaint houses in the background with smoke rising from their chimneys while trees struggle to handle the weight of the snow on their boughs. It’s simplistic, yet idyllic, unless you find isolated cabins in the woods to be ominous, in which case – what’s really burning in those fireplaces?

The fun doesn’t stop on the front, however. On the back of the box, there’s a rebus puzzle! As I child I loved these puzzles, and I can imagine entertaining myself with this one while waiting for my Pop-Tarts to pop out of the toaster.

I’m a little rusty at these, but let’s give it a try!

“Q: Why is Pop-Tarts filling so good at math?”

Well, my first and most obvious answers would be a.) it’s not, because it’s a toaster pastry filling, or b.), because it has become sentient and its screams should be heard any second now as I unknowingly commit homicide on a sugary filling that has feelings and a knowledge of math.

But I’ll play along anyways! Let’s work it out step by step:

“A: Because it’s”

1. W+ fedora +s…okay, so first word: wfedoras. That was easy. I’m not sure what a wfedora is, but sometimes you have to solve the whole thing to get the big “aha!” moment.

2. flipper -f +s+ reluctant bride -br: lippersreluctantide. Sounds like some sort of pesticide…not sure where we’re going, here.

3. th+ crazy-eyed feline -c: thazy-eyed feline. What’s thazy? Sounds kind of like lazy, and we all know cats are lazy assholes. Thazy assholes.

4. heifer -w +u+ hive mind colony -a: Wait, there are a lot of letters here that don’t belong in the first place. That’s odd. I’ll try again. cow -w +u+ assholes -a: coussholes. Hm.

“A: Because it’s wfedoras lippersreluctantide thazy-eyed feline coussholes.”

Man, these puzzles are harder than I remember. I guess it could also be “Because it’s whats inside that counts.” Hoooooooo, boy. Watch out, Laffy Taffy; Pop-Tarts is gunning for you. Don’t be gettin’ thazy on your jokes.

Going off of looks and the box, I guess the marshmallow is supposed to be the filling and the frosting is the…hot chocolate? It’s obvious that the pastry itself is chocolate, but chocolate and hot chocolate are two different things. There’s also what appears to be an Oreo-like crumble on top of the frosting, which I am all for. I’ve always been of the opinion that unfrosted Pop-Tarts are lame, frosted Pop-Tarts are where it’s at, and frosted Pop-Tarts with some kind of extra topping are the crème de la crème of P-to-the-Ts. Sorry; I got tired of typing Pop-Tarts.

Cold P-Ts are sad, and we’re dealing with a flavor that is specifically meant to warm your mouth and your cockles, so I threw mine in the toaster oven. I don’t own an actual toaster because it turned out my last one was possessed by Satan.

The box said to toast the pastry on the lowest/lightest setting. It came out not quite as warm as I wanted, so I popped it in there for another few seconds.

I have to say, I was not expecting a whole lot from Marshmallow Hot Chocolate Pop-Tarts, but I really enjoyed these. The chocolate pastry was chocolatey without being overwhelming, the frosting really did seem to have an essence of hot chocolate, and the crumbles added just a tiny but of chocolate crunch.

The real star here was the marshmallow filling. Warm and gooey, it was spot-on marshmallow goodness. It was like Kellogg’s had found a supply of The Stuff, minus part where it takes over your brain and all that. There wasn’t so much that it overwhelmed the flavors of the pastry and the frosting, but not so little that you were left with little more than a pastry with frosting. As Goldilocks would say, it was just right.

When I was eating my Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Marshmallow Hot Chocolate Toaster Pastry, I really did feel like I was eating a warm, gooey, chocolatey winter treat. If you try these, you’ll be doing yourself a disservice if you eat it cold. My one complaint is that I could only eat one at a sitting, because these pastries are, unsurprisingly, very sweet.

Take that minute or two to warm it up, pour yourself a mug of coffee, settle down in your Forever Lazy, and enjoy!

Limited Edition Pop-Tarts Frosted Marshmallow Hot Chocolate Toaster Pastries

  • Score: 4 out of 5 thazy coussholes
  • Price: $2.89
  • Size: Box of 12 toaster pastries
  • Purchased at: Target
  • Nutritional Quirks: Got a sweet tooth and want to have not one, but two of these Pop-Tarts? Get ready for 38 grams of sugar in your face!