Around Mexico in Seven Bags of Crisps
And now, for something completely different…
There are few experiences in life more thrilling to me than arriving in a country you’ve never visited before, throwing down your bags and heading out to the local grocery store. Beneath those lurid strip nights, you can begin to get your bearings of a place: which favoured flavours keep cropping up, the cost of ingredients, what you’ll see on restaurant menus. Personally, it’s the crisp aisle I make a beeline for. This is the fuel people grab when their energy is waning, when they need something salty (and not particularly healthy) to get them through the day. You can learn a lot here.
On the first of many visits to the supermarket snack sections of Mexico, where I spent all of February backpacking, I made a few early observations. Each packet bore the same octagonal stop sign health warnings, attempting to halt us with health with alerts of exceso calorías and exceso sodio (like we expected anything else?). Chilli and lime, I noted, were the flavours du jour; soon, I’d learn that most crisps had an obligatory aftershock of citrus and spice even when their labelled flavours were completely unrelated.
Before this trip, I’d been briefly introduced to the heady world of Mexican crisps one day last autumn when hundreds of miniature bags of a flute-shaped tortilla chip called Takis appeared in the communal kitchen at my former workplace. The flavour was the mysteriously titled Blue Heat; I assumed they were made of dark blue corn, until my fingers were stained a shade of blue so vibrant it looked like I’d been clumsily attempting to change the cyan cartridge on the office printer. This was my first taste of that lime-chilli combo, and originally, I wasn’t sure of it. But by the time the mid-morning, then mid-afternoon slumps hit, my colleagues and I were back for more. Free food is free food.
I’m not saying those tiny bags of Takis were the sole catalyst of my decision to quit that job and travel to Mexico. But maybe, subconsciously, they played a role. I did book my trip soon after, where, inspired by my friend Anya and the wildly entertaining crisp-tasting Instagram Stories of her own travels, I documented my personal reflections and ratings of the crunchy snacks I tried. My thoughts are below. If this top-tier content doesn’t persuade you to subscribe, I don’t know what will.
Ruffles (Queso)
When I initially arrived in Mexico, part of me imagined (or hoped, I guess) that I would rock up at my first hostel, instantly form lasting friendships with the other guests and travel with them for the next two months. That was not the case. The layout of location hostel numero uno rendered it particularly antisocial (a judgement echoed to me by other travellers I met later on), and I spent most of this first stop alone. Previous stints of solo travel had prepared me for these ups and downs, so fortunately, I didn’t freak out. I knew this was just one place on a lengthy tour – a pitstop, really – and I would make friends going forward. All good.
Needing to fill the time in the tourist-heavy Playa del Carmen, I decided this was as good an opportunity to visit the historical site of Chichen Itza through an all-day group tour. Once again, this proved to be a solitary affair. The other participants were travelling with partners and groups, and all attempts at conversation swiftly fizzled out. The wonder of the world was still predictably wondrous, but I wasn’t feeling great, and in a panicked attempt to regain some stability, turned to a food that had often given me comfort: crinkle-cut crisps.
When it comes to crisps in Mexico, I soon learnt that you want loudly punchy flavours or plain salt (preferably on a plantain chip), but rarely in between. These queso Ruffles were neither, and only added to my fleeting feeling of disappointment. The proclaimed cheese flavour was hyper-synthetic and reminiscent of the cheapest, dustiest cheese balls. Then came the limey after tasty: it wasn’t bad, per se, but it hadn’t been mentioned on the bag and, in my humble opinion, didn’t work with the cheese. The Mayan ruins deserved a tastier accompaniment.
Rating: 3/10
Fritos (Chorizo and Chipotle)
The trip continued. After a bus and ferry to Isla Holbox (during which I met more friends than my entire first location combined), my confidence grew. And among the picturesque white sands and bumpy, unpaved roads of this thin island, I started to get the hang of Mexican crisps too. Upon picking up these intriguing, meaty Fritos, I scoured the ingredients list with my rudimentary Spanish. They didn’t appear to have any actual meat in them, but the first crunch caused me to check again using Google Translate’s camera feature. I was used to the generic smokiness of meat-flavoured crisps back home; in comparison, these were properly meaty (although free of any actual animal flesh) with MSG likely accounting for the strong, sour chipotle taste. They were bold, and a little strange, but certainly not bad. Not bad at all.
Rating: 7/10
Tostitos (Salsa Verde)
The crisps I’d tried so far had been thinkers, with first bites that prompted furrowed brows and internal “huh”s. They took a proper decoding; whether or not I actually liked what I was eating was an afterthought. Not the Tostitos, though. These circular tortillas had all the dustiness of a standard Dorito, yet the magical crisp scientists had somehow infused them with the exact taste of pico de gallo. I didn’t understand it. How could a tortilla chip taste so fresh? My head knew these were just man-made flavours, but close my eyes and ignore the crunch, and they tasted exactly like luminous tomatoes ripened in the sun, sharp onion, juicy lime. Two hours into a five-hour bus journey from Chiquilá to Mérida, these crisps revived me. Five weeks have passed, and I’m still lightly resentful of my past self for not trying them with sour cream or stashing a few bags away for the rest of my trip.
Rating: 9/10
Chip’s (Jalapeño)
Wham, bam, thank you ma’am! Now this was a crisp with a kick. Purchased on a day trip to Celestun (and returned to multiple times in Guatemala), these thick-cut crisps had the rigidity of an even sturdier Kettle Chip, while somehow pouring the punchy pickle flavour of a jar of jalapeños straight into a crisp. No wishy-washy, generic spice here; if anything, the crisp isn’t that chilli-y at all. Zing is the primary vibe, with a salty, briney after-taste reminiscent of the best dirty, spicy margarita. I dream of one day eating the two together, and can even forgive the rogue apostrophe in the title (unless, of course, they were Chip’s chips, in which I apologise).
Rating: 8/10
Runners
Mexico, here boldly asking the question: what if a crisp was in the shape of a car? Obviously, that novelty was always going to get my attention. Otherwise, Runners are a pretty standard pretzel snack in that chilli and lime flavour, as ubiquitous in Mexico as salt and vinegar back in Blighty. I personally prefer this taste paired with a less weighty vessel, like a Walkers/Lays-style of potato chip. After a lengthy travel day, having derailed my vague and under-researched route to visit Oaxaca, their filling nature was a pro. I followed these with a chocolate shake (a balanced dinner), and slept like a baby.
Rating: 6/10
Ruffles (Salsa Negra)
The bag said “mega crunch” and the bag did not lie. The textural experience was mega, and so were the flavours – but is mega always good? Here, I wasn’t so sure. Admittedly, I have never tried salsa negra proper, so had no reference point for the taste the Ruffles were claiming to ape, but from a light googling, the original appears to be a strong salsa with a fermented black garlic base that’s often served with fish. I have to say, the crisps didn’t particularly convey that. This was basically the same classic flavour profile as the Runners in a crinkle-cut crisp. Lime is king, and nothing else stands a chance.
Rating: 6/10
Crujitos (Queso y chile)
Look, I know I said no more queso crisps, but these caught me on a very hungover day when, frankly, I needed some soothing. I’d ended up back in Oaxaca City after failed public transport meant I missed my flight back to Cancun, and had already paid for this all-day excursion to the Hierve el Agua nature preserve when I woke up with a pounding headache and hazy memories of the night before. The canyons and petrified waterfalls were stunning, of course, but I was hanging out of my arse and trying not to topple over due to dehydration and fatigue on my hike. The Crujitos seemed like a simple enough flavour for my delicate body to handle, but with a limey kick to prevent them from being too tame. Thankfully, the flavour was far less fake than the other queso offerings I’d tried, and the lime nicely offset the taste rather than threatening to overpower it. Even the fusilli shape and lightly polystyrene-y, melt-in-your-mouth texture appealed. A comforting crisp – albeit one not without edge – for a sensitive day.
Rating: 7/10