The legend of Thunder Crunch

Ah yes. Food package essays. They’re great because I know that if I am hungry for a delicious snack and I am having trouble making up my mind, I can just read a few paragraphs and make an informed decision. Here’s an essay found on the back of a bag of Alaska Chip Company jalapeño-flavored Volcano Chips that my beautiful and exciting girlfriend Jayme brought me from her trip to Alaska.


The essay gets even better when you replace the word “miner” with “minor” and my thoughts on the actual product follow it.


The Alaska Chip Story
People in the Matanuska Valley have long known the secret of Alaskan potatoes. Potatoes so full of crunch they aren’t grown, they’re mined [1]. Potato miners don’t seek the spotlight, you won’t see them in many headlines, they are searching for a potato so elusive, so robust, that many said it was just a story told by old sourdoughs[2, 3]. Some laughed at the potato miners, mocking their epic quest for a spud known only as “Thunder Crunch.”

For others, just hearing the words Thunder Crunch fills their hearts with fear. They blame the many earthquakes, aurora borealis and other phenomena in the Northland on these hearty vegetables [4, 5]. Some even said searching for the legendary spud should be banned, due to the many dangers involved.

In the spring of ’03, legend became reality when deep below the Matanuska Valley a rumble was heard that would forever change the way we think of chips. Thunder Crunch was discovered by the miners, and those unsung heroes have brought them to the surface to be enjoyed by everyone.

There are still those who fear the legend, but for the brave souls willing to reap the rewards of the potato miner, life just got a little better [6].

[1] Does “crunch” imply that they grow in caves, or tens of feet below the surface?
[2] This is a really great sentence.
[3] WTF is a “sourdough”? Is this really how they talk in Alaska?
[4] I thought there was only one Thunder Crunch.
[5] I thought potatoes were “tubers,” not vegetables.
[6] I disagree. Read on to see why.


The first thing you will notice about this product is its uncanny resemblance to a bag of Cape Cod Chips. I have not researched this further, but this can only mean two things: There is a chip company out there that only has factories in quirky geographic locations, or the Alaska Chip Company loves plagiarizing.

Any way, I was pretty excited about eating something with “volcano” in the name because I was such a huge fan of the short-lived Volcano Taco from Taco Bell. Although Volcano Chips were indeed delicious, the experience of consuming them was not entirely pleasant.

At first bite, they were immediately spicy, with a prominent and genuine jalapeño taste. The spice wasn’t too intense though, so the only eruption was my nose as the medium spice level caused it to run. I went through half of the 5-ounce bag (if not more) then told myself to go dormant [7].

Five minutes after consumption, there was a chive-like aftertaste in the back of my throat. This was nothing compared to the rumblings in my stomach. I was feeling nauseous and had a headache. It was like an instant hangover from the chips. I was actually dizzy. I needed a nap.

I suppose I can’t blame the chips entirely though. Prior to eating them, I had finished a breakfast which had included an “everything bagel,” a donut, some coffee and some hot chocolate.

So there you have it: Volcano chips taste pretty good, and I have terrible eating habits when I am at work.

[7] This is a volcano joke.

Alaskan reindeer sausage

If you know me (and you probably do, because why would you be reading this if you didn't?) you might be aware that when I go on a road trip, I need two items with me: Pizzeria Pretzel Combos (The cheese snack of NASCAR) and some sort of dehydrated meat product. In light of recent events, I now know what I will be buying if I ever find myself on the road in Anchorage, Alaska.

My lovely girlfriend Jayme recently returned from a trip to Alaska, bearing goods both edible and otherwise. Despite her limited meat intake, she was kind enough to bring me an "Alaska Jack's Red Pepper Hunter Steak with Reindeer Meat."

After last week's sabbatical I knew my return to the blogosphere had to be really special. I could think of no better way to do that than by consuming some reindeer -- our friends who help Santa bring us gifts at Christmas!

I can't wait any longer ... Let me open my present!



Upon opening the package, which was thankfully incredibly easy to do -- unlike many kinds of jerky, my nose was filled with a rather typical "summer sausage" odor. And by typical, I mean 100% mouth-watering.

The sausage was about the size and color of an overdone 7-11 hotdog (normal ones were a childhood post-church staple for me) without the wrinkles. The rounded ends had been cut off, like a fat cigar ready to be smoked so the flavor lingers on your tongue for hours, no matter how many times you brush your teeth. I was hoping the flavor of Alaska Jack's hunter steak would stay with me for an equal period of time.

After one bite of the meat cylinder, the aforementioned desire for lingering flavor grew even stronger. The first taste tasted like your typical damn-good non-meal sausage. Then a slight burn developed, grew ever so slightly, and tapered off.

I have never tasted reindeer so I can't tell you how it affected the flavor. However, I feel 100% comfortable telling you that I wish this sausage had been two feet long. Perhaps I can persuade Jayme's vegetarian uncle in Anchorage to mail me a crate.

I guess the lesson here is that delicious food is key to brevity.