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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

Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips Sea Salt, Cheddar and Ranch

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A little while ago, I got an email from someone named Doehne Duckworth offering to send me some free samples to review.

That was it. No product name, no pictures. Just two sentences. Mysterious.

Thankfully, Mr. Duckworth (whose name immediately invokes childhood memories of Scrooge McDuck swimming in a pile of gold coins) had an email address that Google led me to his product’s website: Deano’s Jalapeños. (Editor’s note: since the writing of this post, Deano’s Jalapeño’s website has gone down for remodeling. Consider this an archive of the beauty that it was before remodeling!)

I was met by fire gifs running down the side of the home page, which is always a sign of awesome. I was also met by the headline, “The Newest and Most UniqueSnack Food Available in the Universe”.

Fire gifs and typos. Red flags for most websites, but I’ve learned to take these things in stride when it comes to most small business’s sites, especially when it comes to the food industry. If I’d judged every local restaurant by their poorly-constructed website, I would have missed out on some of the most delicious food in my area. They’re doing the best they can, and sometimes that means asking your nephew to set up your website.

Plus, I could not ignore the brazen claim of being the newest and most unique snack food available in the universe. Not just the country, or even the world. The universe. Eat your heart out, Curiosity rover. Whatever you wind up finding on Mars, it won’t be anything like Deano’s Jalapeño Chips. Deano knows this.

I still didn’t really understand what these chips were, though. At first glance, it doesn’t sound that new or unique at all. Jalapeño chips? Welcome to the rest of the snack aisle, Mr. Duckworth.

But as I read on, I discovered that Deano was on to something different. To quote their website, “…everyone was trying to make their potato chips taste like jalapenos. Why not just use a real jalapeno!”

Why not, indeed! To explain a little further: “The award-winning flavor of Deano’s Jalapenos comes from the fact that there are no potatoes involved. Instead, this handcrafted snack is made from fresh jalapeno peppers that are sliced paper thin, kettle fried to a spicy crisp, and given a dusting of sharp cheddar, ranch or sea salt. It’s a snack that packs a late-hitting heat with a warm, salty flavor that becomes just a little addictive.”

Fresh, fried jalapeños? I was sold. And just a few days later, I had a lovely little package in my mailbox. To my delight, this included one package of each flavor. Here we go!

Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips Sea Salt

I like the package design, in terms of both aesthetics and practicality. First off, Deano has chosen to go the pouch route with a tear-off resealable top. The use of the resealable top in the snack world strikes me as fairly recent; off the top of my head, it seems most popular with things like beef jerky and…well, beef jerky is all I can think of right now.

I’ve only encountered one line of chips that employs the resealable top, and the first time I saw it, I thought, why isn’t every chip manufacturer doing this? The only answer I could think of is that they’re in with Big Chip Clip. It’s like cans that haven’t yet employed pull-tab top technology – I now get irritated any time I have to use a can opener, and it’s not just because I’m left-handed.

Deano’s is a small company, however, and they don’t kowtow to Chip Clips. Thus, the glorious resealable pouch.

Each of Deano’s three varieties of chips has a different design that ties in with the flavor. With Sea Salt, we are transported to a tropical island, complete with palm tree, waves, seagulls, and a wooden surfboard.

I want to lounge on a beach while my Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips Sea Salt are served with a Mai Tai by a hunky shirtless man who does not speak English.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I opened the bag. I had no idea what actual fried, sliced jalapeño chips would look like. Now that I’ve seen them? Well, they aren’t exactly pretty, but they do look pretty authentico.

Upon first glance, it was obvious that these are, indeed, real jalapeños, that have, indeed, been fried, and have also, indeed, been covered in sea salt. Truth in advertising, this is.

Deano’s Jalapeño Chips can rival any other chip in the crunch category, thanks to being fried, and they are also deliciously salty, thanks to the giant chunks of sea salt visible on each piece. Unfortunately, I had a lot less slices and a lot more broken pieces, which could have been due to shipping, but it also gave it the odd appearance of looking like fried seaweed.

While the salt and crunch were excellent, I struggled to find the true taste of the jalapeño pepper inside the chip. Oh, don’t get me wrong; Deano’s brought the heat. That part was unmistakable, and kept building as I ate, until I was wishing for that Mai Tai.

However, part of the reason I love fresh jalapeños is their flavor, and I had a hard time finding it here. Maybe it was the frying process. Maybe the heat overwhelmed it. But the true taste of the pepper got a little lost somewhere. While that was disappointing, I still found myself tossing these crunchy little critters in my mouth, even as that genuine pepper heat started to make my nose run. Snot just adds to the flavor!

Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips Cheddar

Deano’s took a mildly different turn on their Cheddar Jalapeño Chip packaging. Added are the phrases “try a slice of spice” and “made in Vermont”, which should inspire confidence, because when I think spicy peppers, I think…Vermont.

Cheddar’s packaging has the standard Deano’s logo, but varies from Sea Salt in ways I find, frankly, confusing. Gone is the surfer/beach theme, now replaced with…flames? I don’t know what cheddar has to do with flames. They’re still jalapeño chips, which means they’re all hot, right? And what’s with the generic green tattered-edge cheddar logo? That would have been a good place to stick a cheese wedge or something.

I want to be surrounded by kokopellis and  cute little gecko lizards while I eat Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips Cheddar. A man wearing a sombrero and poncho should bring me a margarita.

More slices and less broken pieces in this one. Also, a familiar friend – neon orange flavor powder!

Having eaten pretty much every one of Frito-Lay’s 2,000 “cheese plus spicy flavored” chip iterations, I was curious to see how Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips would compare. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the cheddar flavor tasted more like actual cheese than your run-of-the-mill cheese-flavored chips.

The spicy heat was present, just like with the Sea Salt variety, but I actually found more of the jalapeño pepper flavor itself present in in Cheddar chips. I have no idea why, but it was there, and it was welcome. The pepper flavor, the heat and the cheddar all worked in unison to create a delicious crunchy snack.

Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips Ranch

Let’s call Deano’s Cheddar packaging a misstep, because Ranch brings it back around. Here we have a beautiful sunset as a backdrop to some cacti and desert brush. The flavor is announced on a perfectly appropriate wooden sign that is askew, because every ranch sign should be askew. And check out that jalapeño – it’s been lassoed. Yee-haw!

I want a dude to ride up on his horse and pull me up onto the saddle as a woman in a pearl-studded cowboy shirt rings a triangle, letting us know it’s time to eat some Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips Ranch. I would also like to be served a mug shaped like a cowboy boot containing some Shiner Bock to compliment my chips.

The Ranch Jalapeño Chips looked remarkably similar to the Sea Salt variety; there was no dusting of little red and green flecks that I generally associate with ranch-flavored chips.

At first glance, I attributed this to Deano’s being a smaller company that used more “authentic” means of flavoring. Don’t ask me what authentic ranch flavor powder consists of; I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt.

Unfortunately, it seems that the ranch flavoring was hard to find because it wasn’t really there in the first place. I caught a bit of the familiar tanginess of typical ranch chip flavoring as an aftertaste, but for the most part, Deano’s Ranch Jalapeño Chips suffered the same problems as Sea Salt – nice heat, but little pepper flavor. At least with the Sea Salt variety you got a lot of saltiness to go with your heat; with Ranch, it was mostly just crunch and spice, through and through.

I had high hopes for Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips. In the end, there were ups and downs. If you want to compare them to regular chips that claim to be spicy, Deano’s definitely wins. They’ve also got a great crunch to them. Out of the three varieties, I enjoyed the Cheddar the most, but the other two fell short on delivering the true flavor of jalapeño, and while the Sea Salt was, indeed, salty, the Ranch chips couldn’t bring the flavor.

Despite some their shortcomings, I still found myself liking Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips in general. They are, indeed, quite the unique snack. You’re going to look way cooler eating a bag of Deano’s than a regular ol’ bag of Doritos. Even if looks like you’re eating fried seaweed while snot runs down your face.

(Editor’s Note: Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips were provided for free courtesy of Deano’s Jalapeños. Thanks, Mr. Duckworth!)

Deano’s Jalapeño Real Sliced Chips Sea Salt, Cheddar and Ranch

  • Score (Sea Salt): 3 out of 5 people who think you’re eating fried seaweed
  • Score (Cheddar): 4 out of 5 missed cheese wedge opportunities
  • Score (Ranch): 2.5 out of 5 cowbells
  • Price: Free!
  • Size: 2.25 oz. bags/pouches
  • Purchased at: Received in the mail for free, but once Deano’s Jalapeños website comes back up, you should be able to purchase them there.
  • Nutritional Quirks: Real fried jalapeño slices. Beat that, Doritos! Also, the Ranch variety contains parsley. Parsley…ranch?
Junk Food

Doritos Jacked Enchilada Supreme and Smoky Chipotle BBQ

2 Comments

Another Frito-Lay chip, another XXXtreme chip name. Ruffles became Ultimate; Doritos are now Jacked.

The word “jacked” does not immediately bring up positive connotations; when I think jacked, I think “jacked up”, like, “Oh man, you totally jacked up that guy’s face!”

Of course, now I’m old, so it’s more like, “Oh man, I totally jacked up my back while I was sleeping last night.”

Doritos seems to have a different definition of the word, however. According to the front of the bag, Jacked means “Bigger. Bolder. Thicker.”

Okay. Obviously not my first guess, but hey.

The back of the bags expounds. “It came without warning: a NEW, extreme snack sent to shock your taste buds with MIND-BLOWING flavor and a bigger, bolder, thicker CRUNCH than you’ve ever experienced before.”

The caps emphasis is all Doritos, because everyone knows caps lock means EXTREME. Or Jacked. Or maybe Doritos is just screaming at me, it’s hard to tell.

I like the idea that Doritos Jacked “came without warning”. It makes the chips sound like an old-school horror-movie monster. “It came without warning: SLIGHTLY LARGER AND THICKER TORTILLA CHIPS.” If I was your mom, I’d tell you not to eat Doritos Jacked in the dark before bedtime. You know how you get flavor dust nightmares, dear.

"Mommy, can I sleep in your bag tonight? I had that dream about those Jacked chips again."

As you can see, Jacked Doritos are indeed larger than regular Doritos, and they are also thicker. Plus side: there were almost no crushed chips in either of the bags I purchased. Negative: being larger, they are harder to shove mindlessly into your mouth. It took me at least two bites to get through each chip. Potential for double-dipping increases greatly.

Doritos Jacked comes in two flavors, Enchilada Supreme and Smoky Chipotle BBQ. Consider your mind blown all over the chip aisle of the convenience store.

Doritos Jacked Enchilada Supreme

I love enchiladas, but I had doubts about just how Supreme these Enchilada Doritos would be. According to the back of the bag, “Experience the RUSH of bold cheddar cheese & tangy salsa: then a WAVE of sizzling Mexican spices that’ll leave your taste buds BEGGING for more.”

That’s quite the promise of Flavor Country.

I wasn’t exactly sure what the “bolder” part of the Jacked equation was, but it seems to translate to “we left the chips in the flavor dust-sprayer an extra few minutes”, because these bitches be covered in powder. I’ve always appreciated finding those half-dozen Doritos in a bag that seem to have gotten an extra dust, and it seems like that’s the case with all the Jacked chips.

Unfortunately, I’ve been disappointed by Doritos and their promises of brain-spraying flavors before, and Enchilada Supreme was no exception. Again, I appreciated the heavy coating of powder, but the flavors here were nothing new. Imagine Spicy Nacho Doritos with just a hint of enchilada sauce, and that’s just about it. Does that count as a WAVE of sizzling Mexican spices? Not particularly.

Doritos Jacked Smoky Chipotle BBQ

I’d love to tell you how Doritos described these chips on the back of the bag, but we had a little…review malfunction in my household, resulting in the chips being eaten and the bag being thrown away before I had a chance to write down whatever ridiculous copy the Doritos marketing team came up with.

As an apology, I’ll use my powers of creativity and experience reading the backs of Doritos bags to make up my own description. “Your mouth parts will CRAVE this HIROSHIMA-LIKE EXPLOSION of barbecue and AUTHENTIC chipotle flavor that is so AMAZINGLY SMOKY you’ll think you just stepped into a Memphis jazz bar and someone threw a slow cooked brisket RIGHT INTO YOUR FACE. EXTREME BOLDNESS CRUNCH YOU LIKE A HURRICANE”

Yeah, that sounds about right.

Please do not mistake the accidental consumption and subsequent disposal of the bag as an overpowering eagerness to eat such delicious chips; I would describe the situation more as “these are here, and we are running out of room in the cupboard”.

Not exactly a ringing endorsement, and for good reason. I’ve railed against the use of chipotle as a flavor description when there is no discernible chipotle flavor, and sadly, that remains true here. There is a little bit of smokiness, but the dominant taste is your typical barbecue chip flavoring with a definite sweet side.

Call it a personal preference, but I just don’t truck with BBQ-flavored tortilla chips. Something about the sweetness just doesn’t jive with the flavor of the tortilla chip itself. Like Enchilada Supreme, Smoky Chipotle BBQ Jacked chips are heavily coated with flavor dust, which works against the chip in this case, as it only emphasizes the sweet barbecue flavor.

The premise of Doritos Jacked chips is “Bigger. Bolder. Thicker.”, and I’d say they pretty much deliver on that tagline. They are bigger, but do you really need a bigger tortilla chip? They also do seem thicker, but not to the point of hurting your teeth, and this seems to prevent chip breakage, which I call a plus.

As for the claim of being bolder, if we’re taking that to mean more flavor powder, they do certainly deliver on that front, too. While this works for Enchilada Supreme, despite the lack of originality in flavor, it works against Smoky Chipotle BBQ, which is just too sweet and lacks any chipotle flavor.

Does the world need Doritos Jacked? Not really. I get enough crunch from regular Doritos, and I don’t really want a tortilla chip that is too big to fit in my mouth. While I am a fan of heavily-dusted chips, there’s nothing original about Enchilada Supreme, and I found Smoky Chipotle BBQ straight-up unappealing.

If the Doritos Jacked line comes out with more flavors, I’m give them a try, because I’m a sucker. But for now, I’m perfectly content with regular ol’ Doritos.

Doritos Jacked Enchilada Supreme

  • Score: 2.5 out of 5 flavor dust nightmares
  • Price: $1.49
  • Size: 3 3/8 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Circle K #2821
  • Nutritional Quirks: Do tomato and garlic powders count as “sizzling Mexican spices”? Because that’s the closest I could find on the ingredients list.

Doritos Jacked Smoky Chipotle BBQ

  • Score: 1.5 out of 5 briskets in your face at a Memphis jazz club
  • Price: $1.49
  • Size: 3 3/8 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Circle K #2821
  • Nutritional Quirks: No chipotle listed as an ingredient. Sigh.
Junk Food, Miscellaneous

Herr’s Kansas City Prime Steak Flavor Artificially Flavored Potato Chips

14 Comments

Hey, it’s the day after Easter! For some of you dear readers, you may have just finished the holiday tradition of Lent. Whether you abstained from meat on Fridays, gave it up altogether, or just cut out red meat, you can now continue your carnivorous ways.

I figure today seemed like the perfect day to review something I’ve been holding onto for a while. Back in December, I received a bag of chips from a generous friend of mine, who works at a place that apparently considers rib-flavored potato chips a perfectly normal selection for their break room vending machine. Having had some harrying encounters with meat-flavored non-meat items around that same time, I was justifiably nervous, but I reviewed them anyway, and found them to be quite enjoyable, and also free of any creepy meat flavor.

In the process of that review, I took a look at Herr’s website, and found some wacky flavors that I would’ve loved to have gotten my hands on. Unfortunately, I’d never seen Herr’s in my area. A little while back, I found myself outside my normal grocery/convenience store zone, and decided to check out the local Basha’s. To my surprise, they carried Herr’s! I was disappointed that they didn’t have Creamy Dill Pickle flavor, but they did have Kansas City Prime Steak, which I consider a mighty fine consolation prize.

I’ve always been curious about the name of these potato chips. I get the Prime part; in terms of USDA beef grading, Prime is the highest grade a piece of meat can get, and Prime steaks are usually only sold in hotels and restaurants. Prime means quality.  But why Kansas City? I didn’t care enough to research before, but now that I’m writing about these chips, I have to. For you. You’re welcome.

According to Wikipedia, the source of all knowledge and my primary care physician, Kansas City (the Missouri one, not the Kansas one, mind you) is famous for its steaks and, more specifically, the Kansas City Strip Steak. The strip steak is the cut of beef where T-bones and Porterhouses come from, just so you know. Deliciousness.

Kansas City became famous for its steaks due to the creation of the Kansas City Stockyards, which were built to give livestock owners better prices for their stock. At the Kansas City Live Stock Exchange, the headquarters of the Stockyards, livestock was sold at auction, which gave owners a chance at getting more money for their cattle. Previously, cattle owners west of Kansas City had to concede to whatever price the railroad was offering.

In the heyday year of 1923, 1,194,527 cattle (45% of the gross cattle sold) were purchased by local packing houses and markets, making Kansas City the place to get fresh, delicious steak. Built in 1871, the Stockyards flourished well into the 1940s. Unfortunately, the Great Flood of 1951 devastated the Stockyards, and they never really recovered, finally closing in 1991.

And now you know why Herr’s chose to call their steak-flavored potato chips Kansas City Prime. I just went all educational on yo’ ass. Take it. LIKE IT.

Back to the chips! From the mouth of Herr Herr: “Take a bite of this unique flavor sensation, Kansas City Prime Steak Potato Chips. Herr’s takes the finest potatoes and cooks them in pure vegetable oil to a golden crispy crunch. We then top them with the flavor of thick and juicy steak. It’s hard to find this bold flavor outside of your favorite steakhouse.”

“Unique flavor sensation” sounds like a phrase I would use to trick someone into eating something nasty. It’s the equivalent of setting your friend up on a blind date and telling him “she has a great personality”! I can read between the lines, here. I’m also pretty sure you won’t be finding this “bold flavor” inside OR outside of your favorite steakhouse.

I just noticed that the picture on the bag is actually a “serving suggestion”. So you’re supposed to serve these steak-flavored chips with…steak? How very meta. I have a feeling that if you served Kansas City Prime chips with a delicious Porterhouse straight from the grill, the chips are going to pale in comparison to the real thing. I enjoy potato chips, but I enjoy a juicy slab of meat a hell of a lot more.

All of that said, I actually have some high hopes for these chips. From my experience with their rib-flavored chips, I know that Herr’s has not yet figured out the dark magic that Frito-Lay uses to make their meat-flavored chips, so I’m not worried about that. I’m hoping for a chip flavored with a dry steak rub, which, in my opinion, would be awesome. Let’s see how Kansas City Prime these chips actually are.

The first impression I got from these chips was holy balls these chips are salty.  That’s a bold statement coming from a salt vampire like myself.  I would go so far as to call them excessively salty.  The second impression was holy balls these chips are garlicky.  It took a few mouthfuls before I could detect the more subtle flavors in the seasoning.  Namely, that it tastes like they tossed the chips in a combination of beef ramen seasoning and garlic powder.  There’s definitely a beefy taste, but it’s artificial, like you’re sucking on a cube of beef bullion.

This may not seem like a ringing endorsement for Kansas City Prime, but I found myself rather enjoying the chips.  This probably puts me in the minority; I’m pretty sure most people wouldn’t want to get intimate with a bag full of chip that taste like beefy garlic salt.  I don’t even know how many I could eat before I reached the limit of my admittedly high sodium tolerance, but I could see myself having a handful or two here and there.  I also like the texture of Herr’s chips; they’re thick and deliver a nice crunch, but not so thick that shards of potato pierce your gums like shrapnel every time you take a bite.

That said, as a reviewer, I have to be objective, and in the end, not only do Herr’s Kansas City Prime Steak Flavor Artificially Flavored Potato Chips taste nothing like steak, they’re also too salty and remind me of being poor and having 17 cent ramen for dinner.  On the plus side, there’s enough garlic in them to ensure that nobody will kiss you for the rest of the day, so if your boyfriend has severe halitosis and you’re too nice to break it to him, these chips will assist you nicely.

  • Score: 2.5 out of 5 totally interesting and not at all boring facts about the history of steak in Kansas City, Missouri
  • Price: $2.99
  • Size: 8 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Basha’s #19
  • Nutritional Quirks: It’s the inclusion of salt and MSG that really makes the chips pop! Also contains butter (what?) and “extractives of tumeric”, which sounds like an ingredient you would need to hunt down if you were concocting a brew to put a curse on someone.
Junk Food

Herr’s Baby Back Ribs Potato Chips

19 Comments

Today’s little gem comes from a young lady in Indiana. I’m not sure if she loves me or hates me, based on this “gift” she shipped to my mailbox. Herr’s doesn’t distribute in my neck of the woods, so I never would have had the chance to…experience these chips without outside help. I wouldn’t have even known they existed. According to my source, she spotted these in the vending machine at her work, and thought I might “enjoy” them. First of all, I want to see where someone works when they have Baby Back Ribs potato chips in their vending machines. Out of all the places I’ve worked, I’ve never seen anything that interesting in a vending machine. I’d be lucky to spot some Chili Cheese Fritos or Sour Cream and Cheddar Ruffles. Most of the rest was all blandsville, all the time. I probably would have had an autistic freakout if I’d ever seen Baby Back Ribs in a machine. My fingers wouldn’t have been able to fumble a dollar bill into the slot fast enough.

As if the flavor itself wasn’t enough, look at that package! Crazy font! Barbeque sauce splurts everywhere! Wait, that doesn’t look like barbeque sauce, that looks like…BLOOD! And what’s this now…

Finger Lickin’ Rib Flavor Apron! As my friend/chip donor commented, this is quickly turning from an innocent little bag of chips into some sort of serial killer crime scene. I imagine Dexter Morgan putting up plastic tarp all around a dark shack in the middle of nowhere, wearing this apron as he does his dirty work. Blood spatters everywhere as he hacks up his latest victim. Those ribs on the package look sort of ominous, too. More sickly than inviting. If Dexter were a cannibal, I think he’d be disappointed with this rack of human.

My cat and I have differing levels of desire to eat these chips.

After my last adventure with things that should not be meat, in addition to my previous experience with rib chips, I’m more than a little trepidatious about Herr’s Baby Back Rib Potato Chips. But, there’s nothing left to do but dive in. Let’s see if I need to take a little trip east to visit my friend, armed with an apron, a butcher knife, and a copy of How to Serve Man.

Upon opening the bag, the smell is encouraging. And by that I mean, it doesn’t smell at all like an animal died and was sealed in a foil pouch. It smells mostly like pretty much any other barbecue-flavored chip on the market. The chips are ridged, a little less tightly than Ruffles, with a light coating of red flavor powder. I noticed that these seem to be much less intensely powdered than a typical Frito-Lay chip.

I took a quick break (one might call it a stalling mechanism, but hey) to visit Herr’s website. From the looks of it, all, or at least most, of Herr’s chips are ridged. That’s a boring fact. Here’s a less boring fact: Herr’s is just as awesomely batshit with their flavors as Frito-Lay is. Creamy Dill Pickle! (Really? Creamy dill pickle?) Kansas City Prime Steak! Old Bay! An entire line of “Snack Friez”! That’s it, I’m moving to Indiana. I’m uprooting my entire life to move somewhere that sells Herr’s potato chips. The actions of a responsible adult, to be sure.

While I’d love to get my greasy little hands on all those flavors, what I have in my possession are Baby Back Rib potato chips. Which, oddly, are not listed on Herr’s website as a flavor they produce. The logical conclusion is that my friend has a magical vending machine at her work that is producing its own flavors of Herr’s chips. More updates as events warrant.

Enough stalling, let’s eat these chips.

I have to say, I can’t decide if I’m disappointed or relieved that I could not detect any creepy meat flavor in these chips. A little bit of both? I guess Herr’s hasn’t discovered whatever dark secret Doritos has that has given them the ability to make chips taste like meat. That said, Herr’s Baby Back Ribs didn’t exactly taste like a typical barbeque chip, either. They did have properties of a typical barbeque chip, including that little bit of sweetness they all seem to have, but they also had an extra depth of flavor. They seemed a little more smoky than your typical BBQ chip, and they also had a garlicky undertone that was quite tasty. They were also super salty, which I loved. The chips themselves were the perfect thickness and texture.

What started as dread quickly turned into enjoyment while I was eating Herr’s Baby Back Ribs Potato Chips. While Herr’s failed to actually make their chips taste like ribs, they totally succeeded in creating a barbecue-flavored chip that stands out in a world already stuffed with chips of that flavor. The smokey undertone, the garlic, the extra salt and the texture of the chip all worked together to make this one of the best BBQ chips I’ve had so far. If you’re going have a cartoon apron telling the world your chips taste like ribs, and they actually don’t, that’s a marketing fail. That said, the taste of these chips is a total win. I guess my serial killing spree through Indiana will have to wait.

  • Score: 4 out of 5 bloody aprons
  • Price: Free, or probably about 75 cents from your local vending machine that makes its own flavors
  • Size: 1 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: My mailbox via someone’s work vending machine
  • Nutritional Quirks: The first ingredient listed is “choice” potatoes. To think of all the un-choice potato chips I’ve eaten…
Junk Food

Doritos 1st, 2nd and 3rd Degree Burn: Blazin’ Jalapeño, Fiery Buffalo and Scorchin’ Habanero Tortilla Chips

74 Comments

I’m inappropriately excited about reviewing these Doritos 1st, 2nd and 3rd Degree chips. You see, I’ve been seeing 1st and 2nd Degree Burns in at least two separate stores. But wherever I looked, I just couldn’t seem to find the 3rd degree. I couldn’t understand – why so elusive? Why would you sell the first two, but not the third? Is it that dangerous? My frustration over my inability to locate the third burn only intensified my curiosity. And I couldn’t just review the first two, that would be…somehow wrong. Incomplete. So I was left to be constantly confronted by two thirds of a trio that I so wanted to take pictures of and write about on the Internet.

But then…then, one fateful Saturday afternoon, I walked into one of the stores that had been taunting me with burns that only required aloe vera and not a trip to the hospital and what did I see…3rd DEGREE BURN, MOTHERFUCKERS! I excitedly grabbed a bag and headed over to where the first two had been taunting me in the store for close to a month now. And yet, they were not there. I traversed the whole store, and couldn’t find them. So…you finally get the third, and then remove the first two? That don’t make no sense.

Luckily, I knew another place that also only carried the first two, so I picked those up and basked in triumph. And thus ends two paragraphs’ worth of a story that is only interesting to me.

Moving on! In case you don’t have a grasp on the simplest of medical concepts, the gimmick here is that there are three different levels of heat. Let’s take them literally, just for fun. The first degree, Blazin’ Jalapeño, will make your tongue mildly uncomfortable. There may also be some swelling. Run some cool water over your tongue for a while and stop being such a pussy.

The second, Fiery Buffalo, will…wait a second. How is buffalo hotter than jalapeño? According to the Scoville scale, jalapeños register in at 2,500 to 8,000 units. “Buffalo” isn’t a pepper, and thus isn’t on the Scoville scale, but I’ve had my fair share of buffalo sauces, and I don’t think any of them were in any way hotter than eating a raw jalapeño. I guess they could have just used a really hot sauce to make them. Well, regardless, after consuming these chips, you will experience severe pain and swelling of the tongue, as well as developing disgusting blisters. Cold water can also help here, but it is advised that you suck on the sap of an aloe vera plant throughout the day. Try not to pop those blisters that are filling up your mouth. That would probably taste pretty gross, and it’s bad for the wound. A sterile gauze bandage may be applied to your mouth to help protect the burn. I guess you should just stuff a bunch of gauze in there and carry around a pen and paper. It would probably hurt too much to talk, anyways.

The third degree, Scorchin’ Habanero, will fuck your shit up. Habanero peppers register on the Scoville scale at 100,000 to 250,000 units. It is advised that you wear protective gloves while handling these chips to prevent skin irritation. After you eat these chips, you should seek immediate medical attention. Do not remove any clothing you may be wearing on your tongue. Elevate the tongue to above the heart le- well I guess that one is taken care of. Call 911 or have someone drive you to the nearest Emergency Room; do not drive yourself, as you may go into shock and cause a car accident, which would only make things worse. Your tongue will require constant medical attention and bandage changes for weeks afterward. A skin graft may be required. They may harvest your new tongue skin from your buttocks.

After hearing all that, you must think I’m a fool for attempting to eat all three burns in one day. Well, maybe I am a fool, but I’m a fool who eats things so that you don’t have to. Some may call me a fool; others, a hero.

1st Degree Burn: Blazin’ Jalapeño


Hm.  These certainly taste familiar.  Where have I experienced this unique taste before?  Oh, I think I remember!  I think they remind me quite strongly of Doritos Late Night Last Call Jalapeno Poppers. Or maybe I’m thinking of Doritos Poppin’ Jalapeño! No, that can’t be it, I didn’t even know that was a flavor of Doritos until about five minutes ago. Well hey, maybe it was Doritos 3Ds Jalapeño & Cheddar, part of a brief and apparently unsuccessful gimmick from the mid-2000s!

What I’m trying to say here, and I think you’ve all pretty much guessed it by now, is that there’s nothing new in Blazin’ Jalapeño. I could go on a giant tirade about Frito-Lay constantly recycles their flavors into new gimmicks, but I don’t even want to get started, because that would then become half the content of this website.  I just need to accept it and move on.

I don’t see that actually happening.

For those of you who haven’t tried any of these other iterations, the flavor is pretty straightforward – spicy heat with an undertone of artificial cheese flavoring. I actually like them quite a bit, and they pack a surprising amount of heat. Jalapeño pepper powder is listed as one of the ingredients, and it’s definitely not shy.  Anyone who is not a big fan of capsaicin definitely would not like these.  They’ve got a good burn, but not so much so that the flavors are overwhelmed.

I don’t really have a lot more to say about 1st Degree Burn Blazin’ Jalapeño, other than that we’re off to a pretty promising start.  If this is 1st degree, I’m eager to see how much my tongue hates me as we move on!

2nd Degree Burn Fiery Buffalo


I wondered briefly why 1st Degree got the Blazin’ moniker and Doritos didn’t take alliterative advantage (heh heh) and call these Blazin’ Buffalo. And then I remembered why.  I swear I’ve had Blazin’ Buffalo & Ranch Doritos before, and I don’t recall the buffalo chips being hot at all.  Just sufficiently buffalo-flavored.

Holy crap!  Holy crap these chips are hot!  The first chip delivered a blast that immediately hit my sinuses in a way 1st Degree didn’t.  It was a feeling akin to what happens when you put too much wasabi on a sushi roll.  As I kept eating them, the burn kept building.  I ate about a half dozen of them and my whole mouth was on fire.  My lips were burning, and continued to do so for minutes afterwards.  I actually had to sniffle a few times, as the heat was making my nose run a little.

I have to say, I’m honestly blown away.  These are the hottest chips I’ve ever eaten.  I didn’t know you could actually make tortilla chips this hot.  I’m not getting a lot of buffalo flavor (although the “fiery” part certainly is present), but I could see how these would be really great with a nice, thick ranch dip.  I’m sorry, but throwing some Cool Ranch Doritos into the mix won’t help this time – you’re gonna need a pretty serious dairy product to cut through the heat.

The flavor is really kind of hard to describe…”burny” is all that comes to mind.  But it’s kind of a good burn.  I’ve always poo-pooed those people who like to eat super hot hot sauce.  What’s the point of eating something if all you taste is pain?  And yet, I really liked 2nd Degree Burn.  The little masochist inside of me enjoyed the slow build of torture.  I don’t think I would eat them all the time, but honestly, if I had some good ranch dip around, I could really lay into these guys, watching tv with a box of Kleenex nearby so I could blow my nose as snot runs down my face.

I’m impressed!  And now terrified of 3rd Degree Burn Scorchin’ Habanero.  I’m actually going to have to wait a while before eating them to get some feeling back in my mouth.

3rd Degree Burn Scorchin’ Habanero


Okay so seriously I’m a little scared.  Take a look at what I’m up against:

AHHHHHHHHHHH

When I was taking pictures, before any actual tasting started, I saw these and thought, oh, these are just going to be like Flamin’ Hot Doritos, because of the coloration.  I’ve never had Flamin’ Hot Doritos, but I’ve had the Cheetos, and they are delicious, but not really that hot.  The most threatening thing about them is that the violently brightly colored flavor powder stains your fingers, letting the world know that you have recently indulged in some form of Flamin’ Hot junk food.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Now, I am not so sure.

Well, there’s only one thing to do about it, and that is to eat them.  Let’s get on with it, then!  I feel like I should have some sort of spotter or sitter nearby.  Maybe a LifeAlert necklace.  C. Everett Coop is looking down at me disapprovingly from the afterlife.

Here we go…

SPOILER ALERT: I’m alive!  And I didn’t even have to go to the hospital (yet).  I actually feel like 3rd Degree is about as hot as 2nd Degree.  Of course, 2nd Degree could have turned my tongue into a charred wasteland, rendering me incapable of noticing heat differences.  I got the mouth and lip burn.  Less sinus irritation; only one sniffle came out of it.  But I did get some eye tearing with 3rd Degree, and I definitely feel it more in the throat area.  While I was eating them, I got that choking, burning feeling, like when you accidentally swallow some hot, spicy pho broth the wrong way.  Like I need to cough, or gag. Or make that gross “HUUUKKKGGGHHH” sound uncivilized guys make right before they hock a loogie on the ground.  Even after having not eaten them for a little while, my esophagus feels a tad scorched.  Scorchin’!  Well done, Doritos.

I actually got a little more flavor (other than “ouchy”) out of 3rd Degree than 2nd.  They taste a lot like Spicy Nacho Doritos.  Spicy Nacho Doritos are the wimpy kid in middle school who gets bullied on his way home one day, and the next day his older brother, Scorchin’ Habanero, comes out and absolutely kicks the shit out of those little assholes, sending them running home crying to mama.  Apparently my mouth is the gaggle of bullies, in this scenario.  My mouth is misunderstood; life at home is hard, and…oh, nevermind.  The burning isn’t going away as fast this time and I think it has spread to my brain and I can no longer think straight enough to complete an already poorly constructed analogy.

Doritos 1st, 2nd and 3rd Degree Burns kicked my ass, and I’m happy to say that.  I’m so used to fast food gimmicks claiming to be hotter than Hades winding up being about as spicy as your grandmother’s love life that I severely underestimated Doritos.  Frito-Lay comes out with a new gimmick approximately once a week, and it’s usually the same flavors we’ve seen before with a shiny new bow and a poorly-executed concept.  This time, however, they took a solid concept and really ran with it.  Okay, so 1st Degree Blazin’ Jalaepeño was a total rehash, but it still fit perfectly into the progression of Burns and is still a tasty product, even if this is its fourth iteration.  Heck, even if 2nd and 3rd Degrees are also rehashes and I just don’t know/remember it, the overall theme is solid, fun, and goddamn painful.  Painfully delicious!

Ask me to say that again tomorrow when I’m on the toilet cursing every good thing I ever said in this review while my digestive tract stages a grassroots rebellion against Frito-Lay.

Oh, and as a side note, Doritos Burns has a little cross-promo with Pepsi Max, which claims it will “cure the burn”.  I think they would have been better off striking a deal with Hidden Valley.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, my mouth has a date with a wad of gauze.

Doritos 1st Degree Burn Blazin’ Jalapeño Tortilla Chips

  • Score: 3.5 out of 5 failed 3D snacks
  • Price: $0.99
  • Size: 2 1/4 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Circle K #2821
  • Nutritional Quirks: Magically reanimated flavor!  Zombification ingredients not listed.  🙁

Doritos 2nd Degree Burn Fiery Buffalo Tortilla Chips

  • Score: 4 out of 5 surviving taste buds
  • Price: $0.99
  • Size: 2 1/8 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Circle K #2821
  • Nutritional Quirks: Addition of ranch dip will significantly up the grams of fat, but it’s worth it.

Doritos 3rd Degree Burn Scorchin’ Habanero Tortilla Chips

  • Score: 4.5 out of 5 charred taste buds
  • Price: $0.99
  • Size: 2 1/8 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Fry’s Foods
  • Nutritional Quirks: FIRE IN MY MOUTH!  HALP!
Junk Food

Doritos Late Night All-Nighter Cheeseburger Tortilla Chips

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Doritos Late Night All-Nighter CheeseburgerI have to start out this review by saying that it would not have happened were it not for the courageous efforts of the man who mailed this bag of Doritos Late Night All-Nighter Cheeseburger Chips to me.  A friend of mine alerted me to this new flavor of Doritos, saying that his friend had recently consumed them.  Soon afterward, said friend emailed me, urging me to review them.  I was more than willing to do so; alas, due to my location, which gets no love from the test market homies, I was unable to procure this product.

All hope was not lost, however.  This friend-of-a-friend generously offered to mail me a bag, and so I gave my mailing address to a man that I had corresponded with via email exactly twice, relying on my friend’s word that he is a reputable member of society.  Don’t tell my mother; she’ll have a heart attack.

A box arrived in my mailbox soon after the email.  I have to mention that I am amused to no end at the image of a big city District Attorney, on his lunch break, resplendent in his pressed business suit, possibly with his DA ID tag still hanging off his lapel, going down to his local Post Office and declaring to the employee at the counter that yes, I am mailing a bag of Doritos Late Night All-Nighter Cheeseburger Tortilla Chips.  I’m sure it was one of the prouder moments in his life.  I thank you, good sir, for debasing yourself on my behalf.  Your efforts are greatly appreciated.

Doritos Late Night All-Nighter Cheeseburger Bag Front

Fortunately for me, the box did indeed contain a bag of chips, and not a decomposing severed head, or a bomb, or a decomposing severed head with a bomb in it.  That would have been a much more difficult review.   Maybe.  I haven’t actually tried the chips yet, so we’ll see.  We’ll also see if the bag contains actual chips and not just a mass of crumbs, due to its travel cross-country courtesy of the US Postal system.

I’ve commented on the insanity of Doritos’ marketing team before, and I’m sure that they will continue making bizarre products that will cause me to comment on it again.  However, in all fairness, I have to say that their Late Night line of chips was the impetus that finally motivated me to stop just talking about making Junk Food Betty and actually get it up and running.  You see, this is not the first Late Night offering.  Before All-Nighter Cheeseburger, there were two other offerings – Tacos at Midnight and Last Call Jalapeño Popper.  You can read a review of the former here and of the latter here.  I’d love to be able to link you to my own reviews of both of these chips, but back then, I was doing reviews on my sad little LiveJournal account, and I have too much pride to link you to that.  Suffice to say, writing about these two Late Night offerings finally convinced me that the world needed to see the insanity that is the junk food world, and LiveJournal was not the way to make that happen.  Thank you, Doritos, for being so insane.  You inspired me to make a real website that makes me spend money on ridiculous foods and brings in zero income.  Thanks.  Really.

Doritos’ press release for All-Nighter Cheeseburger actually sheds a little light on how the Late Night line was born.  “We’ve learned that snacking at night is important to our loyal consumers because they’re usually hungry after a night out with friends, and it serves as a key social occasion to relax and unwind with those friends…The trick was to find out what they were eating at night and then turn those foods into delicious Doritos flavors.”  This comes from the mouth of Associate Marketing Manager Julia Wells.

A well-worded explanation.  However, I think I can translate this comment into what really happened:

“Kids these days,” said some middle-aged white guy sitting in a meeting room full of other middle-aged white guys at 8am on a Monday, “Kids these days, they stay out all hours of the night, drinking their Jaegermeisters and their tequila, whooping and hollering and carrying on.  We need to find out what these drunken layabouts eat before they crash out on the bathroom floor at 4am, and we need to turn it into chips, and give it a hip name that will make them say, ‘Hey, these chips have a name that sounds like you should eat them when you’re drunk!  And the flavor sounds like things I eat when I’m drunk!  I need to buy these chips!’  That is what we need to do to bring in those no-good lushes.”

And so, Tacos at Midnight, Last Call Jalapeño Popper, and now, All-Nighter Cheeseburger were born.  I’m on tenterhooks waiting to see what they come up with next.  Let’s be honest, here; drunken college-aged kids will eat anything when they stagger home late at night.  I’d like to see some more realistic offerings in the future.  Here are just a few of my suggestions:

Late Night 24-Hour Diner Greasy Bacon and Eggs
Late Night Lost Pants Cold Can of Refried Beans with a Spoon
Late Night Sleeping Roommate Pizza That’s Been Sitting on the Stove for Three Days (although, to be fair, they already have that flavor in Collisions Pizza Cravers and Ranch)
Late Night Didn’t Score Improperly Microwaved Ramen

Doritos, if I see any of these flavors on grocery shelves in the future, I’m expecting some serious kickbacks from you guys!

Doritos Late Night All-Nighter Cheeseburger Bag Back

The night is calling, people, and you better answer the damn phone before it goes to voicemail, or else the night is going to be super pissed, because it knows you’re home, and it’s tired of you blowing it off to hang out with the daytime.  What’s so fun about daytime, anyways?  Ohhh, she’s got a sun, and the mall is open.  Big fucking deal.

Oh, no, wait, I read that wrong.  You’re supposed to satisfy your craving with these chips.  Phew, close call.  Anyway, I always obey the back of chip bags, so let’s get on with this.

Doritos Late Night All-Nighter Cheeseburger Chips

Hooray!  Lots of chips, not so many crumbs!  I had my doubts when I was handling the bag.  Way to pack, big city District Attorney!  If that whole prosecuting criminals thing falls through, you have a bright future at The UPS Store.

The flavor powder is pretty consistent with other Doritos; some get an over it, some are underflavored, but the majority have a fairly even coating.  The smell when you open the bag is overwhelmingly of ketchup and pasteurized processed cheese product.  Which is good coming from the angle of replicating a shitty burger bought at 2am, but not so great when you realize that these are chips.  Not a good chip smell.  Not good.

I forgot to mention earlier that this is not the first time Doritos has produced a cheeseburger-inspired chip.  In 2007, Doritos introduced the “X-13D Experiment”, another crazy-ass marketing gimmick wherein you have an “objective”.  The bag was simple and black, and had a little hint on the front that said “Tasting notes: All-American Classic”.  Basically, they were implementing the “guess the mystery flavor” trick.  On that other website I don’t like to talk about, I described them as tasting like “crappy McDonald’s hamburgers”.  Which is exactly what All-Nighter Cheeseburger chips smell like.  Will I be reliving that wonderful experience I had in 2007?

Answer: yes.  I have to say, they really did nail what a shitty cheeseburger tastes like.  As soon as you start chewing, there’s a bouqet of flavors assaulting you.  The ketchup hits first, then the crappy cheese, along with an unsettling meaty flavor that makes you seriously wonder what ingredients have been added that would give a tortilla chip the ability to taste “meaty”.  That’s just wrong.  There’s even an faint onion/pickle finish as you break the chip down.  How are they doing this?  There’s only one answer: Doritos has finally turned to the dark arts.  God help us all.

I gotta hand it to Doritos, black magic or no, they fucking nailed cheeseburger.  I don’t know how they did it, but it’s all there.  During some of the more destitute times of my life, I relied heavily on the $1 double cheeseburger from McDonald’s Value Menu in order to, well, not die.  I am intimately familiar with how that burger tastes, and this chip tastes like that hamburger.  I happen to appreciate the taste of McDonald’s shitty double cheeseburger, but I can see how other people would not.  There’s just something about that crappy, terrible burger that I really enjoy.  Now that I’m moderately less poor, I can afford bigger and better hamburgers for sustenance, but the shitty burger is still an occasional guilty pleasure.

So, you’re thinking to yourself, Junk Food Betty is all thumbs up on the Doritos Late Night All-Nighter Cheeseburger Chips, right?

Answer: no.  Here’s the long and short of it: just because you can make something, doesn’t always mean you should.  These chips are literally unsettling.  It’s like that scene in Alien Resurrection where Ridley comes upon that room with all those fucked-up clones of herself.  These chips are an abomination that never should have happened.  It’s not about tasting bad; it’s about tasting wrong.  Good for you, Doritos, you made a tortilla chip taste just like a cheeseburger.  Except now your creation is writhing around on the floor, its deformed  and contorted body leaving a trail of bloody mucus behind it as it struggles just to move, dragging its unnatural form pathetically as it cries out in a garbled voice, “kill me”.  Doritos Late Night All-Nighter Cheeseburger Tortilla Chips, you’re  making everyone very uncomfortable.

  • Score: 1.5 out of 5 decomposing severed heads with bombs inside
  • Price: Free!  I don’t know whether to thank big city District Attorney again or track him down via the return address on the box and beat him with a sock full of Doritos and batteries.
  • Size: 11 1/2 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: My mailbox
  • Nutritional Quirks: I could read the back of the bag and find out exactly what ingredients make a tortilla chips taste meaty, but I fear for my sanity.  Some things are better left unknown.

Note: Foodette Reviews also a review of All-Nighter Cheeseburger Doritos.  She favored them much more than I did.

Junk Food

Doritos Nacho Cheese Flavor Shots Atomic Chile Limon

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Doritos Flavor Shots Chile Limon

Doritos has been going off the rails for years now, from their “X-13D Flavor Experiment” to “The Quest” to their recent “Late Night” line.  The Flavor Department (I’d like to think such a thing exists) has been given carte blanche to create whatever gimmick they conjure up in their fevered delusions, and that is why we have things like Doritos Flavor Shots.

I have chosen Atomic Chile Limon, but you can also treat your taste buds to Blazin’ Buffalo Rush.  The complicated process, as illustrated on the back of the bag, is as follows:

  1. Open the bag.
  2. Take out the “flavor shot”, which is a little packet that looks just like the packet on the front of the bag, except it comes in a little clear wrapper that makes you think you’re pulling a toy out of a cereal box, except instead of being covered in sugar, it’s covered in nacho cheese flavoring, and instead of being a toy, it’s a packet of atomic flavor.
  3. Open the packet (the clear packet protecting the flavor packet actually opens quite easily, which I found surprising; I expected an epic five-minute battle culminating in a pair of scissors) and sprinkle the impossibly neon orange powder inside into your bag of chips.  This is described on the bag as “unleashing flavor”.
  4. Experience the “FULL FLAVOR FORCE!”

The base chips, as proclaimed on the bag, are indeed identical to Doritos’s nacho cheese flavored chips, so if you drop the flavor packet on the floor of your car, at least you’ve got nacho cheese as a backup.  I unleashed the flavor and shook the bag for a few seconds to ensure as even a distribution of the powder as possible.  I then made the mistake of opening the bag and sticking my nose in it, which was kind of like snorting a line of chili powder.  After I could think again, I figured this was a positive sign; at least the chile part of the chile limon was present.

The first chip I picked looked like it had about half the powder from the flavor packet on it, which I had figured would happen, seeing as how I am a human being lazily shaking a bag of chips for a few seconds and not a giant metal cylinder constantly rotating a batch of corn chips while a line of nozzles evenly sprays flavoring on them for what I’m sure is a well-researched period of time.  Which started to get me kind of irritated.  You know, Doritos, I’m not paying you for atomic chips so that I can then do all the work.  I don’t go to a restaurant so that I then have to cook my own food, and I don’t buy a bag of chips so that I have to add my own flavoring.  I buy a bag of chips because I’m a lazy fuck who can barely muster up the strength to open the bag itself, let alone struggle with a double-wrapped packet of neon orange powder.

Inappropriate anger over chip gimmicks aside, the first chip’s flavor was actually rather mild.  Between the blast of pain my nose received and the thick coating of powder on the chip, I was expecting the FULL FLAVOR FORCE! that was promised to me on the bag.  Instead, I got the flavor of a nacho cheese Dorito, with a hint of chile flavor and some spice on the back end.  Not very atomic.  However, I ate a few more to give them a chance and finally came upon one that delivered.  The only hint of limon I detected in the first couple of chips was probably only in my imagination, but this was was fairly bursting with what I can only describe as artificially flavored margarita mix with some chili powder mixed in.  The lime-ish flavor recedes, but as you eat more chips, the spice starts to build in your mouth not unpleasantly.  I wouldn’t call it fiery hot, but if you’re a giant sissy, you might find yourself fanning your own mouth and reaching for a glass of milk.

Resentment over having to do all the flavor work aside, I probably won’t be buying another bag of Doritos Nacho Cheese Flavor Shots Atomic Chile Limon chips again.  I’m just not that fond of chips that taste like a non-alcoholic, spicy margarita.  It almost makes me think of lime Lifesavers, which I believe no longer exist, which makes me feel old.  Not to mention, I do not believe chips should taste like fruit-flavored candy.  The strikes are piling up against you, Doritos.

In conclusion, if you like fruity chips, or you like the idea of violently shaking a bag of chips until it is nothing but crumbs, these Flavor Shots may be for you.  If you like the latter but aren’t too crazy about the former, you could always try the other Flavor Shots flavor, Blazin’ Buffalo Rush.  I will say this for them, though – out of all the Doritos flavors I’ve tried over the years, I’ve never encountered any that taste like a spicy margarita.  Points for uniqueness.  Well, maybe not points.  Point.  Half a point.

  • Score: 2 out of 5 hamburgers
  • Price: $1.29
  • Size: 2 1/5 oz. bag
  • Purchased at: Circle K
  • Nutritional Quirks: The flavor packet adds 25% more sodium to the chips.