BEER CAN CHICKEN PRINGLES

In all the years that I've been writing about various kinds of snacks and junk foods, I have almost never been surprised. On rare occasions, something that sounds awful turns out to be delicious...or vice-versa...but for the most part, I know just what to expect. Which is why, when I saw this "limited edition" can of Pringles, I should have trusted my first instinct. That instinct was to empty the shelves into my cart, push that cart out of the local Target before the asset protection team could stop me, stack the cans into a miniature version of "Burning Man" and then light them on fire in the parking lot.

In a weak moment, however, I did none of the above. Instead, I decided to take a can home and try them for myself. But my folly will hopefully serve as a warning to you all not to go down this same path.

By the way, in case you aren't familiar with "beer can chicken," it is a method of trying to keep a chicken moist (and, possibly, to also impart the flavor of beer to said chicken) that basically involves emptying out half a can of beer, lowering the chicken's cavity onto the can, and cooking it upright. (You might notice that the image on the can is completely wrong in that respect, showing the can on the wrong end of the bird, but perhaps the Pringle's marketing department realized a true image might get their product banned in more conservative states). Seeing a beer can stuffed into a chicken is the second strangest image associated with cooking poultry...behind only that one episode of Friends.

For the record, I must say that I'm not a big fan of beer. My preferred beverage of choice for imbibing is either wine (or a mixed drink involving vodka + just about anything else). But, if I had to crack open a cold one, it would be a bottle of Samuel Adams and not Miller Lite, which has definitely fallen a long way from running the funniest television commercials ever made in the 1970s and 80s to partnering with a reconstituted potato chip. But I digress...

Fortunately, the fact that I am not a beer connoisseur in no way affected my ability to fairly judge these potato chips because they have absolutely zero beer taste. Which, frankly, is probably a good thing! I was actually just hoping for a flavor closer to a BBQ chicken or a garlic-lemon rotisserie chicken...heck, I would have settled for chips that reminded me of chicken McNuggets.

What I got instead was a nauseating aroma just from opening the can, which almost made me sick to my stomach even before I tried eating any of these. Eating them only intensified that feeling. If there is such a thing as aftertaste having an aftertaste, this food does that! Ask me to describe the taste as politely as I possibly can, and the only thing that comes to mind is...rancid ketchup. Or maybe some weak teriyaki sauce which you obtained, not from a reputable restaurant, but from the self-serve section of an AM/PM mini-mart. Oh, and vaguely potato-y Pringles--I could definitely taste those as well.   

(For those who may be interested, there is also a "Grilled Beer Brat" and a "Beer-Braised Steak" version...the latter which was not sold at my local Target and the former which I would not ever dare to buy considering how much I disliked these.) 

The bottom line is that there's nothing inherently wrong with cooking beer can chicken, just as there is nothing wrong with enjoying a beer while eating potato chips, chicken or brats. But trying to combine these flavors in a Pringle's can is a big mistake! So, as we celebrate American Independence Day...a time when my fellow citizens are most likely to consume beer, chicken, brats and maybe even these potato chips...I thank the good Lord above that we live in a nation where companies have the freedom to try stupid ideas such as this one, and where we consumers also have the freedom to dump chests of them into Boston Harbor as a statement of opposition. If I lived on the opposite side of the country, I would!

RATING:    1 / 5

HEB BISCUITS AND GRAVY POTATO CHIPS

During the past few years that I've been writing "junk food" reviews, I've focused on candy bars, snack cakes, toaster pastries and cereals...to name a few...but had never given serious thought to including chips (aka crisps, for those of you across the pond). It's not that I didn't consider potato chips to be part of the universe of irresponsible calories, but more that I didn't find them interesting enough to include.

Maybe this is because I grew up at a time when choices were limited--we had corn chips and potato chips, and they were either plain (salted), BBQ or Ranch-flavored. When we wanted to experience different flavors, that came from buying or creating or own dips...not from the chips themselves. Of course, we also had corn meal shaped like packing peanuts and covered with a florescent orange cheese-like substance that stained your fingers for hours (if not days), but the only true "advancement" in chips when I was a kid was the ability to buy them stacked in cans--the perfect shape for making duck lips! 

Since then, of course, we've seen the introduction of kettle chips, baked chips and "veggie straws" (the latter trying to trick us into eating something healthier...never!), but the bottom line is that these snacks are almost all differentiated only by the seasonings. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this is the same as all of my chocolate Oreos reviews where the only difference was the flavor of the creme in the middle. So, after my friend John Hardie sent along a package of HEB Biscuits and Gravy Potato Chips, I decided I could no longer in good conscience keep chips out of my reviews. 

Announcing that these were the "best chips he had ever tasted" was a pretty bold statement to make. But what do you expect from Texas, where everything is supposedly bigger and better? Being a cynic by nature, I was definitely prepared to knock his proclamation down a peg...but then I tried them. And whereas the Alamo was definitely underwhelming, these chips were not!

Being born and raised on the west coast, rather than the South, I am not a biscuit and gravy afficionado so I had no expectations when I opened the bag. I am, however, a big fan of French Dip sandwiches...which is the what the aroma immediately called to mind. My tongue then confirmed what my nose was trying to tell me--these things taste like a savory meal! The chips themselves were thin, but still crispy and not greasy. The seasoning wasn't so caked on that I needed to shake some of it off and it never overpowered the taste of the potato chip. If there is anything more I ever wanted or expected from a chip, I cannot think of it.

Sadly, these chips are a "limited edition" and I live in a region where they are never available, so the odds of my getting my hands on them are not good...unless I import them before the trade war breaks out between California and Texas. Or unless I come visit John at the National Videogame Museum in Frisco, TX. Until then, however, I will be content with the knowledge that I was fortunate enough to partake of the best potato chip I've ever tasted...

RATING: 5 / 5