#oneaday Day 577: A non-comprehensive ranking of some slightly unusual crisps

Yesterday, we covered what I described as "regular-ass crisps". The crisps that you see that are just called "crisps", whether they're by Walkers or a supermarket's own brand. Thin slices of potato, deep fried and seasoned with some sort of flavouring powder.

But the crunchy snack sector is more than just regular-ass crisps, as anyone who had a lunchbox in the 1980s will know. There is a whole world of slightly unusual crisps out there, and today I wanted to celebrate some of my favourites — old and new — with another ranking.

To match yesterday, I will be choosing six slightly unusual types or flavours of crisps or crisp-adjacent snack (i.e. puffed corn snacks count) and ranking them in such a way that absolutely no-one will ever want to argue with me or tell me I'm wrong.

Let's begin!

6. Walkers Worcester Sauce

Now, I know this is technically a regular-ass crisp, but Worcester Sauce is also a "limited edition" flavour — although Walkers have done it so many times at this point that they might as well just make it part of the regular-ass lineup, because it's proven pretty much beyond a doubt at this point that people like it.

As for me, I like it a lot — it probably ranks above prawn cocktail, top of my regular-ass crisps ranking, if we're just talking about regular-ass crisps. But if we're talking about slightly unusual crisps, it ranks low because it's not especially unusual.

Flavour-wise, it does everything I like in a crisp or crisp-adjacent snack, which is to say it has enough sour flavour to make your cheeks turn inside out. If they'd just do Walkers Max, But Worcester Sauce Flavour, I think I'd die happy. From cholesterol-related heart failure.

5. Tangy Toms

I don't even know if you can get these any more (EDIT: you can), but these were a staple of the 1980s school lunchbox. Notable for being extremely cheap compared to regular-ass crisps, they also carried that super-sour artificial flavour that I like so much, but applied to a puffed corn snack rather than a potato chip. This time around, the flavour was supposedly tomato, but I ain't never tasted a tomato that tasted like Tangy Toms.

It was a good day any day these were in the lunchbox. I'm only ranking them so relatively low because the bag size was always a bit stingy, but I guess you get what you pay for when you're buying 10p crisps.

4. Wotsits Giant Prawn Cocktail flavour

Wotsits? Good. Prawn cocktail? Good. For a brief period in the '80s, you could get flavours of Wotsits other than the standard cheese, including beef and prawn cocktail, and they were both great, but got phased out after a while because we can't have nice things permanently, apparently. In more recent years, Wotsits have taken a cue from Cheetos with the Flamin' Hot flavour, which is good, but for their Giant variants (which are literallly just Wotsits, but bigger) they also reintroduced prawn cocktail.

And it's a good prawn cocktail flavour, in that it doesn't taste anything like prawns or Marie Rose sauce, but it is both delicious and dangerously addictive. I can happily demolish a big bag of these, and this is why I am fat. Better that than, like, heroin, though, right?

3. "Party Mix" from convenience stores

I don't know what brand makes this. I have a feeling it might be like a Happy Shopper own brand or something. But you hopefully know what I mean: comes in huge bags, contains a mix of all manner of different shaped potato and corn snacks, all liberally doused in flavouring powder, producing some of the most potent flavour explosions in the crunchy snacking space.

My main point of reference for these is that you can get them in the "ParcMarket" at Center Parcs, which I believe is technically a Co-Op, but I've also seen something similar in our local convenience store, which I believe is Happy Shopper-related. I think they even do a prawn cocktail one, which sounds like an exceedingly dangerous thing to provide me with a huge bag of.

2. Lay's All-dressed

I've had these precisely once in Canada and I've been kind of pining for them ever since. As the name suggests, they are supposedly "all of the flavours" on one crisp, and I'm not sure that quite comes across, but they are delicious.

Given that Lay's are basically the Walkers of North America (they're both owned by Pepsi), I'm surprised this particular flavour never made it over to the UK, because I think it would probably go down a storm here. I'll have to see if I can import some… although part of me is afraid to, just in case the second taste is more disappointing than the first!

1. Takis Fuego

A relatively recent discovery for me thanks to the fact our local convenience store carries them, these have quickly become my favourite crisp-adjacent snack of choice. For the unfamiliar, Takis are like what would happen if you rolled up a Dorito before cooking it. Their shape means they carry a lot of flavour, because there's flavour powder on all the rolled-up layers, and the Fuego flavour in particular is already pretty strong.

With an initial chilli kick, a bit of limey zing and a lingering heat, these probably aren't for everyone. But give me a choice of all the crispy things in the world, and I will probably gravitate towards these more often than anything else.

Conclusions? Crisps!

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#oneaday Day 576: A ranking of the regular-ass crisp flavours

Hello. I couldn't think of anything to write about today — at least not without threatening to be depressingly topical, which I'm keen to avoid — so I thought I'd fall back on something completely inoffensive and not at all controversial, which is my ranking of the regular-ass crisp flavours that you get in an average multipack.

For clarity, this means the following flavours:

Ready salted
Salt and vinegar
Cheese and onion
Roast chicken
Prawn cocktail
Smoky bacon

Now, the exact "goodness" of each of these varies according to manufacturer, but based on a sampling of two ends of the market — Walkers (a "prestige" brand of sorts) and Lidl "Snaktastic" own-brand — I feel pretty confident in my rankings. So let us begin immediately.

6. Cheese and onion

I will grant that I am biased in this regard, because I do not like onion or onion-flavoured things, but it continually mystifies me that this is, supposedly, the most popular crisp flavour in the United Kingdom, according to multiple surveys.

I wouldn't mind if it was a little bit cheesy, but I've decided to give these a chance on multiple occasions and simply cannot get past the revolting onion-ness of them, with the "cheese" part seemingly being totally overpowered by it.

By contrast, I absolutely love the sadly defunct beef and onion flavour crisps that Walkers used to do in the brown packets. Those, to me, didn't taste oniony at all, but the artificial beef flavour (which doesn't really taste like beef at all) came through perfectly well. But I don't think you can get those any more — I haven't seen them for a good while, anyway — so they're out of the rankings for now.

5. Ready salted

These may be ranked low on my list, but not because I don't like them; on the contrary, sometimes it's nice to have a simple salted flavour. They're just a bit dull though.

To my shame, on one occasion at primary school where I found I had a packet of ready salted crisps in my lunchbox, I became so inexplicably furious that I didn't have one of the "good" flavours that I crushed them angrily rather than eating them. I don't really know why I did that, and it's a memory I firmly wish I could eject from my long-term storage.

These days, I am not infuriated by ready salted crisps. But they are usually the last to go. Andie ranks them quite highly, though, so it's not as if they go to waste.

4. Smoky bacon

The next few are all a tough call to rank, as I specifically like all of them, but out of all of them, I think I'd probably put smoky bacon flavour at the bottom of the heap.

There's nothing wrong with smoky bacon and, like ready salted, the intense saltiness of the flavour is sometimes exactly what you're looking for in a crisp. But, when presented with an array of different crisp flavours to choose from, smoky bacon is rarely the one I reach for first.

3. Roast chicken

Likewise roast chicken. I rank this flavour slightly higher because it feels like you don't see these as often as you used to, and thus sometimes I will pick them as a "novelty" option.

There are also some truly excellent "luxury" roast chicken options available, with the one most people are likely familiar with being Walkers Sensations. To my recollection, the roast chicken flavour of these was the first to become widely available, and they are very good crisps.

They don't taste anything like chicken, of course, but very few crisp flavours do actually taste like their name — with the exception of ready salted and salt and vinegar, for obvious reasons.

2. Salt and vinegar

Salt and vinegar is one of my favourite crisp flavours. I particularly enjoy a strongly seasoned salt and vinegar crisp — the kind that is surprisingly, intensely sour. Regular old Walkers are decent in this regard, but I think the best salt and vinegar flavour outside of explicitly luxury brands like Kettle Chips is probably the Walkers Max ridged variants.

Crinkly crisps tend to have stronger flavours anyway, and when you have something that is already fairly pungent, like salt and vinegar, crinkling them and putting them on a thick crisp makes them even better.

It was a close-run thing between this and the top spot, I can tell you. But ultimately this is where the results fell.

1. Prawn cocktail

Another crisp flavour that has the dubious honour of not tasting anything like what it's supposed to, prawn cocktail crisps have always been, for me, the ultimate flavour. They combine everything I like about an artificial crisp flavour. You've got the saltiness. You've got the sourness of vinegar. You've got a touch of sweetness.

It all comes together to create a flavour that makes my mouth water to imagine. Prawn cocktail is an awesome flavour, regardless of what type of crisp it is applied to, and is pretty much always my top pick when given an array of different flavours to choose from.

So there you have it. Those are my rankings, and nothing you can do will change my mind. If you're lucky, I might rank some "unusual" flavours tomorrow!

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1291: The Gentrification of Snack Foods

Have you noticed how it's increasingly difficult to buy a bag of salt and vinegar crisps these days?

I don't mean that they're hard to find — they're still everywhere, and still the second-best flavour of crisps (the best being, of course, prawn cocktail) but rather it's increasingly difficult to find a bag that just says "salt and vinegar" on them.

No, these days it's all "sea salt" and either malt, cider or, in extremely pretentious cases, balsamic vinegar. Granted, each of those does have a distinctive taste from the others, but it's a distinction we didn't used to make because no-one knew what the fuck balsamic vinegar was.

Crisps aren't the only type of food that has undergone gentrification, though. We now have "fruit terrine" rather than "jelly with fruit in"; "artisan bread" rather than "crusty bread" (or, you know, "bread"); and almost everything that involves chocolate that isn't a chocolate bar has suddenly become "Belgian chocolate" as if its Flemish origins somehow make the poor-quality chocolate sauce you get with a chocolate pudding magically better.

There's probably some sort of deep-seated sociological reason for all this happening that marketing people have picked up on. At a guess, I'd say it's something to do with people having aspirations towards being "middle class", and what's more middle class than balsamic vinegar? Slap that on your bag of crisps and you immediately no longer have crisps — which are clearly a working class food — but instead you have posh crisps or, more accurately, "nibbles". The sort of things you pour into a bowl because eating them out of the bag is just so frightfully common.

Where does it end, though? Wagon Wheels become Alloy Rims? (with Jammy Alloy Rims being marketed as "a delicate berry jus nestled in a bed of delectably fluffy mallow, all encased in rich, smooth Belgian chocolate") Cheestrings launch a new "Cheestrings Pro" range made out of suitably pongy blue cheeses? Cheetos complement their Pepsi flavour (yes, it totally exists — see?) with an array of flavours based on popular wines and ports?

I jest, of course. I'm not annoyed about all this; I just think it's an interesting cultural phenomenon that appears to have been growing over the last few years in particular — or perhaps it's been going on for a lot longer and I just never noticed. When I was a student, for example, I didn't go looking for pretentious crap like balsamic vinegar; I bought value goods. (Actually, that's not so bad; cheap crisps are frequently the best due to the sheer amount of flavouring crap they cover them with. Plus you'd never get Tangy Toms rebranding themselves as "Sundried Tomato Flavour Bites".)

Anyway, I'm off to enjoy a cool glass of triple-filtered cow beverage, and perhaps a Belgian chocolate chip Snack Disc.

#oneaday, Day 338: English-American Dictionary

In honour of my being in America, I thought I would clarify some of the strange words that I use in order that we might understand one another a little better. I'm also away from a Mac with Comic Life Magiq installed, so our friends in the panels above might look a little different for the next couple of days thanks to the idiosyncracies of Windows Paint and the Windows version of Comic Life.

But anyway. Here we go. In no particular order:

Chips: French fries.
French Fries: A brand of chips that look like fries.
Crisps: Chips.
Jam: Jelly. Also, a line of traffic.
Jelly: Jell-O or equivalent.
Queue: Difficult to spell. Also, a line of people and/or cars.
Herb: A word with an "H" at the beginning.
Erb: A little-used verbal non-fluency feature.
Aluminium: The correct way to spell "Aluminum".
Wanker: A person who masturbates. Also a synonym for "asshole", when used in reference to a person who is an asshole, not an actual asshole.
Wankered: Drunk.
Arse: Ass.
Ass: Donkey and/or mule.
Rat-arsed: Drunk.
Trousers: Pants.
Pants: (n.) underpants or (adj.) not very good.
Trousered: Drunk.
Fucking: Verbal punctuation.
Fucked: Drunk. Also, screwed over. Sometimes at the same time.
Bollocks: (n.) testicles or when used as the object of a sentence, nonsense, clearly a lie. "The things Mat Murray said on his blog were bollocks."
The dog's bollocks: Really good. "Mat Murray's blog is the dog's bollocks."
Itchy scrot: Venereal disease.
Scruttocks: Compound word, meaning unclear. Component words suggest that it might refer to the perineum. More often used as a mild, non-offensive expletive.
Fanny: Vagina. Also, to mess around: "to fanny about".
Faff: See "fanny", but remove the vagina reference.
Bum: Butt.
Tramp: Bum.
Slag: Tramp.
Bumming: Engaging in anal sex.
Poof: A homosexual male.
Pouffe: A footstool.
Sod: Multi-purpose mild profanity. Can be used as a noun or a verb. ("Sod off, you sod")
Bugger: See "sod". Also, to engage in anal sex.
Buggered: Broken or messed up. Also, to have been the recipient of anal sex.
Shag: To have sex with. Also, carpet.
S: a letter we use instead of "Z".
Zed: Zee.
U: a letter we use after the letter "o" for no particular reason.

Clearly British English is a ridiculous language. The sheer number of synonyms we have for being drunk should probably tell you everything you need to know about our culture.

Still, you know what? I'm a big fan of our stupid words. There are few words more satisfying to mutter under your breath than "bollocks" when something goes wrong. And calling someone a "bloody bastard stupid buggering bugger-head" (or similar) if they have infuriated you is similarly satisfying.

Also, the number of alternative meanings for many of these words can lead to a wide variety of entertaining double-entendres and ambiguities. The cast of the Carry On series of films made an entire career out of this little language trick, after all.

So there you have it. I hope all you Americans out there feel suitably enlightened about the best way to use the English language now. I shall expect you to all be talking the Queen's English the next time I hear from you.

Because of course, the Queen is always banging on about how rat-arsed she's going to get before shagging her husband and throwing him out on his arse. In fact, that's all her Christmas speech normally consists of. It's actually quite embarrassing.