potato chips

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Dear Jack: You Spent Your Own Money on a Bag of Non-GMO Potato Chips

Dear Jack: You Spent Your Own Money on a Bag of Non-GMO, Organic Potato Chips

Being raised by two Dave Ramsey followers as parents, I’m sure to some degree, your version of reality might differ from some of your friends and classmates.

This past Saturday, we decided to drive down to one of the Portlandia-type parts of Nashville: 12 South. We had lunch at a place called Sloco; a sandwich shop that specializes in local ingredients.

After we picked out our vegan and vegetarian sandwiches, we each picked out a bag of non-GMO, potato chips; the only brand they carried was one I had never heard of: Deep River Snacks.

Near the end of the meal, you still had half of your bag of chips remaining, yet you asked Mommy and me for another bag.

You insisted, “But I want more for later. I really like these chips. They’re the best chips I’ve ever had.”

We explained to you that if you were willing to spend some of your remaining Christmas gift money on the chips, then that would be fine; but that we weren’t going to spend any more of our family’s budgeted food money on your extra bag of chips.

With little hesitation, you agreed. I walked you up to the counter and you purchased the chips: $1.62.

This sort of amazed me and Mommy.

It seems all you’ve ever spent your own money on has been stuffed animals and a few monster trucks.

But chips? Seriously, they were that good in your mind.

Unsurprisingly, that night for dinner you asked us if you could eat your 2nd bag of chips with your meal.

I figured if the chips really meant that much to you, how could I say no?

This story is so funny to me because I’ve never seen you so passionate about any food item.

And they were just plain chips. Just a few ingredients; potatoes, sunflower oil, sea salt.

Honestly, I’m proud that they were non-GMO (and kosher). That part is surely lost on you.

Good chips are good chips. And sometimes they’re apparently worth spending your own money on.

Love,

Daddy

3 Comments Posted on Health, Nostalgia, Storytelling, Uncategorized

All the Flavors of Pringles: Mingling and Pringling at Summer Dinner Parties

I can’t eat just one Pringle.  But I am able to eat just one can. Typically.

It’s funny how the summer time itself can make you feel more popular and sociable than normal.  My wife and I have noticed that nearly every weekend this summer we’ve got some event planned with other people, not to mention the many dinner parties we’ve already attended in the past several weeks.  Since there’s always that item or two that we need to bring to the dinner, we end up at the grocery to the day before to pick up the garlic bread or salad.

And while I’m there, I sneakily mosey over to the potato chips isle to explore the local Pringles selection.  Despite how adamant/religious I am about what I eat (nothing processed, no pork, no shellfish, no sugar, only wheat bread, must drink a minimum of three liters of water a day, etc.) I am willing to admit that one of my surprising weaknesses is any random can of Pringles potato chips.  Maybe it’s this subconscious belief that regular potato chips are “white trashy” and Pringles are the sophisticated option.  Even as a kid who never cared about nutrition, I still have always preferred Pringles over any of the greasier and/or more fattening options out there like Lay’s or Doritos.

Anytime I’m invited to a dinner party now, I use the event as an excuse to buy a can of Pringles.  It would be against my self-imposed moral code to simply purchase chips and bring them into my house to eat, because that means I’m contributing to the junk food industry.  But if it’s for a party, with the intended use of sharing, that it becomes justified in my mind.  And with all the weird flavors that Pringles provide me with and my curiosity to try them all, often I come home with at least half the can still in tact.  Prime example: Last Friday night, Mozzarella Sticks and Marinara.  (Basically the distinctive ingredient is sour cream.)

Surely obsession with Pringles is that they give me the illusion that I’m eating unhealthy foods like Bloomin’ Onions, Quesadillas, or Cheeseburgers, though I’m actually eating low fat potato chips.  The flavors themselves provide entertainment.  Not the mention the labels themselves.

 

For example, right now I’m looking at an empty can of Pringles Xtreme Ragin’ Cajun.  I like how a serving size is 16 “crisps”, not chips.  It’s funny how “spices” is listed as an ingredient, then a few later comes “spice extracts”, then “paprika extract”- so vague and yet specific all at once.  Of course there’s some Red Lake 40 thrown in there for effect, which is extracted from petroleum (click healthnutshell: Red Food Dye to read more about that).  My favorite part of it is the last ingredient listed: “and natural and artificial flavors (including smoke)”.

Wait, I don’t get it.  Is the smoke real or artificial?  Or half fake, half real?  I really need to understand this…

Pringles.  So good.  So weird.  So mysterious.

Pringles Flavors: The Complete Guide