Health Valley rice bran crackers

Wow. Jordan hates these crackers as much as I hate Cabo Chips. The only thing missing is a pun about "Hellth" Valley. -Nate

I will often use the phrase “it tastes like cardboard” to describe foods that don’t have much flavor. But there’s usually a wide margin between the taste of the food and the taste of actual cardboard. I had never tasted a food that actually tasted like cardboard.

Not until today.



Health Valley Rice Bran crackers are the worst crackers I have ever eaten. They are among the worst foods I have ever eaten. They taste exactly like a paper product, and leave a sawdust-like residue in your teeth, forcing you to think about the cracker for the next several hours.

They were purchased by my desk neighbor, Melanie, who tries really hard to be healthy, which sometimes is hard when you sit next to me, because I try really hard to scrounge as much free chocolate from around the office as I can. Also, Melanie is just a nicer person all around than I am, I think. But I digress.

Back to the worst crackers ever.

I’m not really sure what prompted her to buy these. They seem to me to be a product made only for people who can’t eat gluten, seeing as there are plenty of much more delicious and equally healthy wheat-based bran crackers out there. If you’re going to get a rice cracker, just get a rice cracker. Those are delicious. Also, I enjoy rice cakes, especially with peanut butter on them. This is neither. This is like the gluten-free equivalent of veggie dogs, which are only not-disgusting to vegetarians because they do not regularly enjoy the taste of real hot dogs, which are extremely delicious.

You can only enjoy the taste of Health Valley Rice Bran crackers if you never have the opportunity to eat real crackers. And if you have also had your taste buds rendered useless in a freak accident.

Here is a picture of Emily, our other desk neighbor, when I put the box of crackers near her face.



I think the crackers gave Emily PTSD.

In summation, I would like to rate these crackers 0 stars out of a billion. Or infinity. Health Valley Rice Bran Crackers: Zero out of infinity plus one stars.

Popcorn plus yeast = not so bad

The now-famous Russ recently invited a few of us at the office to enjoy some popcorn topped with brewer's yeast. As someone who brews beer, I was anticipating a wholly gross experience, but yeast on popcorn actually tasted quite natural and oddly familiar.

In this video segment of Nate's Plate, you'll see me, Russ, Bridgette and camera-woman Jordan.

Sunberries

Sunberries. They look like the kind of berries that you're not sure you can eat until you see a bird eat one first. In other words, they look like poison berries. But they're not -- I made the guy who grew them in his back yard eat one before giving them to me. He didn't die, so it was my turn for some chomping.

Executive summary: Not only are sunberries not deadly, they're not gross.*



What? You want more details than that?

OK.

It's hard to describe sunberries, and I could probably describe them however I want to because I bet you'll never ever have your hands on them in your life. But since I am such an objective blogger, I'll throw you a bone.

Think of a nice sweet grape combined with a tomato without the acid. As they ripen, the tomato taste fades away. That in a nutshell, er grape peel, is the flavor of a sunberry.

They're like strange candy in odor and flavor, and would do well in packaged form if they had a nice waxy consistency like Starbursts.

I think I detected some mealiness, but it's hard to say since sunberries are so tiny. It might just be their tiny seeds that contribute to this mouthfeel.

This tininess also makes each one a little tease.

So, should you eat sunberries? Sure, if you know someone who grows strange things in his yard. If you're a confectioner, I'd recommend harnessing their flavor and using it to make some candy. It would have to be better than violet candy.

Disclaimer:
*I love all fruits and vegetables and eat raw tomatoes for a snack, so maybe I am biased.

Eating during crunch time

I've been working on a super intense project at work. Although working through the weekend makes it hard to tell what day it is, a big "plus" during times like this is all the free food. The expense accounts just open up and the Chinese food and tuna salad sandwiches keep rolling in. So do the snacks. See what I mean?

You might notice the following items:

• Chinese food


• Soda


• Red Bull


• M&Ms


• Snickers bars


• Skittles


• Starbursts


• Bottled water


• Cups made from corn


• Who knows?

It really is "crunch time." Pun intended.

Buffalo Sticks

Just when I think I am going to be responsible and eat my packed lunch, someone goes and puts a bag of TGI Friday's "Buffalo Sticks" in the office vending machine. Despite the fact that I had a good idea what they were (Flamin' Hot Cheetos), the name still conjured up images of long-forgotten Native American delicacies.



I opened the bag and an odor came blasting out -- one that made me rethink my Flamin' Hot Cheetos hypothesis. It smelled kinda ranch-y (like the dressing, not poop on a farm). I extracted a curved, pockmarked red formation from the back and realized that it was more similar in consistency to a puffy Cheeto, and I wasn't sure if they made those Flamin' Hot. My research suggests they don't. It also suggests that Saddam Hussein loved puffy Cheetos -- yet another reason for me not to like them.

Would I have a reason not to like Buffalo Sticks?

Yes: Ranch dressing.

The first bite was tangy like the sun-ripened buttermilk used in ranch dressing. This rotting milk flavor is followed by the texture one would experience if one were to somehow dry out one of those foam packing stubs that dissolve in water. Next up is a warm sensation in the mouth that precedes a slight burn that diminishes in strength with each log consumed. The flavor "burnt" was also experienced.

If you're still having trouble relating, imagine mixing hot sauce with ranch dressing, allowing it to air dry and get crusty and then eating it.

This ranch dressing thing was really bothering me. I have a friend from Rochester, NY who claims that people in Michigan love ranch dressing and that we even say "ranch" funny. He has not experienced the ranch dressing phenomenon in his home state, and this news makes me long for greener pastures.

Furthermore, why add ranch flavor to the "buffalo" (do buffalo graze solely upon hot peppers?) flavor? Everyone knows that if you're a wuss, you need ranch dressing to cool your palette after eating some hot wings at the local Buffabro Wildchads.

There's not even a picture of ranch dressing on the bag. There is celery, but no celery flavor or celery-derived ingredients are present.

These buffalo sticks definitely missed the mark, but I finished the damn bag any way.

Flamin' Hot Funyuns

It never fails. Just when Dave at the office starts bitching that I haven't updated (I was on an 11-day weekend, dammit!), I go to the vending machine in the kitchen and I'm presented with something like Flamin' Hot Funyuns.

The existence of Flamin' Hot Funyuns had been foretold to me by my friend Euphenia but, try as I might, I had not found them at any stores I regularly visit. I saw them at a party store by my old flat a while back but I was hanging out with my girlfriend at the moment and didn't feel like subjecting her to my vile breath. This is a courtesy I do not extend to my professional colleagues, so I peeled open the 35.4-gram bag, knowing that the cup of coffee I'd just finished was sure to make things interesting.



Flavor-wise, the bright red "Flamin'" powder seemed to cancel out the "onion" taste I love so dearly, but the exciting after-burn (not the kind you get in the bathroom) was definitely present. Perhaps the coffee was masking the flavor.

As I ate on, the Flamin' taste grew but the Funyun flavor did not. A similar experience is had when devouring Flamin' Hot Cheetos, and I imagine this can be said for anything else in the Flamin' franchise.

Because I know you're curious: Unlike Flamin' Hot Cheetos and their non-Flamin' siblings, the Flamin' Hot Funyuns don't leave sticky red residue on your fingers. That phenomenon seems to be related to the "cheese" powder. But I digress ...

There's really not that much to say here, and that's only partially because I am filling my face with spicy deliciousness. I would gladly eat the hell out of Flamin' Hot Funyuns. If you know me, you know that goes for regular Funyuns too -- When conditions are right, I have been known to eat a $2.99 bag of Funyuns, a king-size Snickers ice cream bar and a frozen Coke, after all.

A note to my generous colleagues: The "item" you left on my desk should appear here next week as soon as I feel like eating bugs.

Pool-side chicken nuggets in Vegas and more

I went to Vegas for work last week -- A little competition called Camp Organic, which is loosely based on the seven sins. My team's sin, of course, was gluttony. I have been type-cast.

On the way there, I enjoyed a drink on a plane for the first time, thanks to a drink voucher from my friend Euphenia.


When we got to the hotel, I got a $16 margarita in a bikini-clad-woman-shaped glass by the pool.


Drinking in the hot sun made me really hungry, so I got some chicken nuggets. They were really expensive and cold by the time they arrived at my lounge chair. I didn't have enough cash on me after my pricey drink, so my friend Dave let me use his credit card. The scantily clad bartender asked for my ID and I told her I didn't have it because it wasn't my card ... it belonged to the big guy by the pool. I went to go get the ID from Dave and he didn't have it. Some guy that appeared behind the bar said this was "shady as fuck" but let me proceed any way. I told the bartender where I was sitting and she brought my nuggets about 45 minutes later after admitting they had been sitting around for about 10 minutes. The buffalo sauce covered the salmonella nicely.

I have been eating like a pregnant woman

I ate like a pregnant woman yesterday and the day before.

Sunday was a real throwback to my college days: I dusted my house and ate a late lunch consisting of a salad, picante chicken Ramen noodles, and some more deep-fried peanuts. I felt nauseous and had a headache. Then, for dinner, I had pizza, bread sticks, and two more salads. And I felt better.

Yesterday (Monday), I had a garlic bagel on my way to the office, some Andy Capp's Hot Fries at around 10 am, a Kashi Tuscan Veggie Bake for lunch, then a "hungry size" bag of pretzels, then a snickers bar. Dinner was Morningstar Farms simulated buffalo wings, followed by two leftover pancakes from Saturday morning. I felt nauseous and had a headache. Then I went to the grocery store and only bought healthy snacks for the rest of the week, like carrots, celery and roasted red chili pepper hummus.

This is why I didn't review the top-secret Canadian Doritos I recently picked up in Toronto.

This is a picture of a small piece of double-chocolate cheesecake with some gold flakes on it. It was served to me on a train from Toronto to Windsor, Ontario.



Sorry.

Uncle Bud's Deep Fried Peanuts

As I was shopping at my local high-end grocer the other day, I noticed a new snack product on the shelf near the organic lettuce where I found Snapea Crisps: Uncle Bud's Deep Fried Peanuts. There were a few varieties available, and I chose "Hot." According to Uncle Bud, these are "so good you can et 'm SHELL-N-ALL" (capitalization courtesy of Bud himself).


Normally eating peanut shells would be quite terrible, but I was feeling adventurous. It was nearly 10:30 and I just had two beers, plus I was already in a mood for insomnia, so I figured "anything goes."

The first peanut, shell-on, was nearly flavorless and spiceless, minus the slightest hint of garlic. Perhaps the gum I had been chewing just 10 minutes earlier was interfering. I ate on.

Three peanuts in, the spice was barely growing. I was expecting to wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night with my innards on fire. It was time to try one without the shell. Luckily, many of the shells were split in half, just begging to be removed. Unfortunately, the minimal seasonings did not make it to the inner goodness, so the peanuts tasted plain, if not slightly altered.

Well, now I had a lonely shell sitting there, and I was not about to waste it. Once again, garlic, spice -- a little bit more this time, particularly at the rear sides of the tongue -- and weird peanut shell texture.

I ate the next peanut whole, and it tasted exactly like normal mashed potatoes. At this point, I was not sure what the hell was going on. The most exciting thing that happened during my snacking was the discovery of a single peanut in a single-peanut-sized shell.


Yet, somehow I ate on -- probably because these tasted a lot like normal peanuts, which are pretty damn good. And I did find myself eating them "shell n all" because the soybean oil must have softened the slightly charred shells up. Uncle Bud did one thing right, though: He found a way to get the spice to linger on the tongue for an extended length of time to increase snacking duration.

In a nut shell: You should buy these if you love normal peanuts, are lazy and have a low tolerance for spice.

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.

Mung Crunch! (Fried Mung Beans: Colleague's Cookin' Special Edition PART 2)

You may recall that I reviewed a colleague's fried mung beans a while back. Here's his long-awaited write-up and recipe. And by "long awaited," I mean it has been sitting on my computer for months waiting for me to post it. Here's what Russ has to say.

In these difficult economic times I feel the need to make the most of everything in our cabinets. This has involved making use of a variety of questionable purchases that have been lying around for months. Possibly the most perplexing was the 3 lb bag of mung beans I found underneath the Halloween candy. Much like the whole dried hot peppers and can of chopped clams this must have been a “seemed like a good idea at the time” purchase from the Indian grocery store.

My only previous experience with mung beans was a quote from The Office about said beans “smelling like death," as seen here.

The best part of this video is that it is as much about Crazy Train as it is mung beans. The quote is at 1:30 wait for it… wait for it…

As I found while frying them, they do indeed smell like death. My wife actually got sick to her stomach from the smell. As with just about any food once they are fried and salted they are delicious. My recipe is below.

Mung Crunch
250 g mung beans (8 oz.)
1 tb Vegetable oil
Salt to taste
1. Just soak the mung beans overnight. Drain them and dry thoroughly.
2. Fry in vegetable oil over a moderate heat, turning frequently, until they are browned and crisp - between 5 and 10 minutes.
3. Drain on kitchen paper towelling, sprinkle with salt, and cool. They store very successfully in airtight jars.

The Lemonhead Song (So Damn Good)

This fall, my friend Rachel sent me a music video, telling me that it was made in Detroit. After about 30 seconds, I knew I was going to have to interview Dave Chaney, the genius behind the Lemonhead Song. I met one of his friends at a party and gave her my email address so he could get in touch, but I apparently wrote it down wrong. I caught up him on Facebook last week and he had been trying to email me since September, so I shot some questions his way. Red Lobster is his favorite restaurant, so he obviously has great taste (I once ate 93 shrimp there). Here's what he had to say about eating Lemonheads every day.



Do you like lemon in general, or just Lemonheads? Lemon Jolly Ranchers? Mike's Hard Lemonade? Do you clean your house with Lemon Pledge?

Ummmmmmmmm. FORGET everything else I love LEMONHEADS! LOL. They are the best sensation to my mouth. The candy has the best sour to sweet transition ever. The texture is well defined and I almost pissed on myself when I tasted the chewy lemonheads for the first time.

What did your friends think when you told them about the Lemonheads Song / video?

They weren't even surprised. Lol. I'm always up to something random. So when I told them they were anxious to see it. People actually tell me it's a nice video and that it would make it on real T.V.

How long did the song exist before you decided to make a video?

The song was produced well over a month before the video came out. Matter of fact, Tommie Green didn't even want to shoot a video for the song; he thought it was a stupid idea. The first scene of the music video actually happened.

Is the video filmed all in Detroit?

Of course. I didn't travel for that video. Tommie Green, the director/CEO of WhiteWood wanted to shoot it all in Detroit. Most of the video was filmed in my basement. The rest was in a very uncivilized area in Detroit and at the studio I recorded the song.

Who made the music for the song?

Rawtalent Productions. Thanks for spending those long hours in the studio helping my non-rapping ass. Check them out at www.myspace.com/therealrawtalent

How did you come up with the Lemonhead Hawk?

I made a video about going to war with people that nag about me eating lemonheads so much. It's called Lemonhead Helmet (I'm ready for war). In the video I wear a helmet made of lemonhead boxes and I have a knife. I go on explaining how I will call among the "Lemonhead Hawk" to guide me in my journey. LOL!! I don't know man, it's completely ridiculous.

Do you have other songs about food? I saw another Whitewood video about "Throw some cheese on that beef (just bought a Big Mac)." Is food a popular thing with Whitewood?

No, the Lemonhead Song is the only song I wrote about food. I wrote another song about the word SHAMAKAKAKA and one about poking a nicca(stabbing with a knife)lol. You have to watch more of my videos if you don't understand. Throw some cheese on that is a mock of RICH BOY'S "throw some D's". I'm not really sure why he chose to talk about a burger but I know that's one of our most popular video. Rich Boy himself added that video as his favorite on Youtube. Food isn't a popular thing with Whitewood, we just try to film what people want to see and hear.

Do you actually eat Lemonheads every day?

Yes I do!.....LEEEEMOOOON HEAAAADSS THEY ARE SO DAMN GOOD, I EAT EM EVERYDAY!!!!!

How long have you been eating Lemonheads for?

Maaaaaaaaann!!! I've been eating lemonheads before I started growing pubic hair. LOL...ummm so about 16 years.

Do any of your friends share your passion for Lemonheads?

Yea, some of my friends tell me they started eating lemonheads because of me. I have fans that write me about their passion for lemonheads, but I think it is all for my attention. lol

Do you have a Lemonheads tattoo? Would you get one?

I thought about getting a tattoo of a lemon actually. Then I thought about it again and told myself "I'm not THAT crazy" lol.

I saw you made a Lemonheads necklace in the video. Have you made other Lemonheads art? Have you ever used them in cooking?

Yea, I made that Lemonhead Necklace specifically for the Lemonhead Song Music Video. I hate to admit that it's gone now; it was eaten up by some ants...lol. (Don't leave candy hanging around in your room). I made a girlfriend, a bracelet, a pair of sunglasses and a gun out of Lemonhead boxes. Cooking? No, I usually consider a box a lemonheads breakfast though...

What are some other foods / restaurants you like? Would you ever try 7 Mile Shrimp Palace?

I love Mexican food and sea food. Red Lobster is my favorite restaurant and no I wouldn't try 7 mile Shrimp Palace (lol). It probably taste just as awful as the other shrimp they serve on 7 mile. I stay on 7 mile by the way.

Is there anything else you'd like to add?

Well look out for the second episode of the Lemonhead Show, the Poke a Nicca music video and I have another song coming soon.

Burger King Flame Broiled Flavored Potato Snacks

Don't give yourself indigestion with worries -- Winners of the High School Lunch Memories Contest will be announced tomorrow.

If you enjoyed my review of Burger King Onion Rings Flavored Snacks, you're in for a real treat -- Burger King Flame Broiled Flavored Potato Snacks. This is the second snack in the Burger King snack trifecta, the other being Ketchup and Fries flavored snacks.

The existence of these chips was foretold to me, and I discovered them one day while waiting in line at the local Blockbuster Video. They sat on my counter, awaiting review, for some time. Then, my power went out and I had no access to my refrigerator and no time to go on a Flavor Quest so I knew it was time to fire up the proverbial grill.

I have to admit that I was a bit nervous as I opened the bag. I grew up in close proximity to a Burger King and the "flame broiled" greasy smoke smell hung heavy in the strip mall adjacent to BK. The smell always made me huffily exhale out of my nose and say, "Ew, Burger King smells gross." I imagine the smell of Burger King is how it would smell if you managed to smoke some grease (the way you'd smoke a turkey breast) and then vaporized it. The smell made me see visions of red brick chimneys on the surrounding houses stained black with Essence of Burger King. I swallowed the fearful lump in my throat and broke the seal.

Whiff one of the bag revealed a smell not at all unlike burnt, over-fried normal potato chips. Bleh. Not at all promising, just like Cabo Chips.

Taste one was rather herb-y, followed by a slight beef taste that immediately made me picture rare "beef medallions." Taste two indicated an attempt at simulating "burger fixins." A mildly herbed tomato was definitely present.

Burger King Flame Broiled Flavored Potato Snacks are a prime example of false advertising, which, in this case, is the best thing they have going for them. The smell I hate (smoked grease) is thankfully not present, replace by one I can at least tolerate. And, most importantly, the simulated jazzed-up low-grade beef taste is spot on.

If I had to associate potential actions I would take with these chips regarding the way I feel about them, I'd say that I would suggest you try them, but I probably wouldn't take one from you if you offered to share.

Perhaps you'd like to try my review of Burger King Onion Rings Flavored Snacks. Or Cabo Chips.

Snapea Crisps

As I was browsing my local high-end grocer's produce department, a bag caught my eye. A photo of pea pods, arranged like a haphazard fence, indicated its contents, so I tossed it into my shopping basket without any more thought. I felt very pleased with myself and I anticipated enjoying some fresh, crisp sugar snap peas. WRONG!

I returned from the store and my post-shopping snack attack led me to open the aforementioned bag. As it turns out, I had just purchased Calbee Snack Salad Snapea Crisps. Delicate & tasty. Original flavor. Baked. Net wt. 3.3 oz.

The detailed photo showing peas bulging in pods on the packaging wants us to believe that whole snap peas, in-pod, were baked. I have a different theory.

My theory is that a cauldron of pea soup was left to boil until it was reduced to dried pea sludge. This product was then made into a fine powder and then reconstituted with water before being molded into fuzzy-looking (but not fuzzy) pod-like shapes. Why else would rice be in the list of ingredients?

Taking a cross-section of said pods indicates no discernible individual peas, which just adds more clout to my argument.

Despite the onset of snack confusion, I continued chomping away. I am not even sure if chomping is the right word. These Snapea Crisps aren't really they crisp. They don't snap or crunch. It would be more accurate to say that I was mashing them and dissipating the powder with my teeth as I chewed. The crisps are a light and airy snack, and I am confident that anyone could eat an entire bag in one sitting and still feel hungry. More importantly, they taste good.

The familiar flavor of non-fresh peas is subtly present, and the flavor tricks your tongue into believing that the crisps are more heavily seasoned than they are. The list of ingredients is simple: Green peas, corn oil, rice, salt, calcium carbonate, ascorbic acid (vitamin c).

Adding to this snack's intrigue is the supposed availability of a Caesar-flavored variety, which is sadly not sold at my local store.

My snack confusion yielded a pleasant surprise and I'll conclude this review in agreement with the folks at Calbee America, Inc., quoting the conclusion of the Snapea Crisps product essay: "[I] propose this product as a new type of snack."

By the way, I dare you to win the High School Lunch Memories Contest. Winners will be announced next week.

Doritos 4cheese Flavored Tortilla Chips AND A CONTEST

Today's review is decidedly brief -- it had been sitting on my "shelf" since October for this reason -- because I am announcing a little reader participation event this week. Get the details after the review.

My quest for a mid-morning snack once again turned up a surprise when I noticed the sudden appearance of a new item in the vending machine: Doritos 4cheese Flavored Tortilla Chips. "They're back by popular demand."

The packaging alone is enough to make this snack enticing, but not because it makes it appear overly appetizing.

The hazy pattern of the bag itself conjures up fire, and a silhouetted creepy hand makes me think that someone is being burned alive. This sort of imagery conveys "spicy," although "4cheese" does not sound spicy at all.

Why is "4cheese" one word? Doesn't the Frito Lay family of snack foods have a typographer?

Back, to the creepy imagery, "4cheese" seemed to be tied to horror somehow, because Doritos invited me to "unleash the spirits at snackstrongproductions.com on the back of the package. This URL simply redirected me to www.doritos.com where I was met with some sort of virtual city that did not succeed in enticing me to explore it. What spirits were they expecting me to unleash here?

And why are these chips "back by popular demand" if I have never heard of them in my life?

I had a lot of questions at this point.

The only answer I got was that these chips taste like Nacho Cheese and Cool Ranch Doritos combined. Who, exactly, demanded this?

And now for the High School Lunch Memories Contest!

After my friend Haim, proprietor of the Frosty Insides refrigerator blog, suggested that I sneak into a high school and review high school lunch (a plan that is still in the works) he and I started talking about high school lunch memories. So, I'm asking you this: What do you remember about high school lunch? Share your lists or stories and the lucky winner will receive an exciting prize of my choice. If you live nearby, I'll probably take you out to eat. If not, I'll mail you something cool like a limited edition Nate's Plate promotional coaster, a yet-to-be-produced Nate's Plate lobster bib, or maybe some Taco Bell Bucks®.

To share your tales of dipping fries in cheese sauce, taco pizzas shaped like stop signs and that kid who always lurked around the ketchup dispensers, post 'em up in the comments. You don't even need a Blogspot ID to do it.

Fried Mung Beans: Colleague's Cookin' Special Edition

When my coworker Russ inquired about the possibility of writing a piece about fried mung beans for Nate's Plate, I didn't hesitate to say yes. I pictured a pan on his stove with steaming off-white refried beans bubbling away, stinking up his house. Boy was I wrong. Fried mung beans are actually hard (I guess they're just fried once) and dark green-brown in color.

I had the privilege of sampling Russ's Famous Fried Mung Beans before his review was completed, so I decided I'd write my own. I was drafting a corporate spam e-missive and an email from Russ appeared in my inbox: "Mung beans are at my desk. Drop by and sample the goodness." It was an offer I couldn't refuse.

I walked across the office and there were the little guys on his desk, hanging out in a jar of Mrs. Renfro's "Smoky" Roasted Salsa. The beans weren't the fried mess I expected at all. They were hard and looked rather insect-like. The ones without their shells looked like Honey Smacks cereal. Most importantly, FRIED MUNG BEANS ARE DAMN GOOD.

Fried mung beans are not a side dish for a meal, as I had expected. They're a salty, crunchy, kinda-burnt-tasting treat. They're a wholly addictive snack that leaves the slightest amount of oily residue in your palm.

The fact they they were stored in an old salsa jar only made them better. It added some southwest pizzaz that delicately flirted with my taste buds. When removed from the jar, the beans smell rather neutral, which is good since Russ reported that they stink terribly when being prepared.

As the jar emptied, I already found myself hoping that there are more fried mung beans on their way to the office. I'd buy a bag of these at the party store, and that's high praise. I suppose I could do that, since Beer Nuts already exist.

And don't take it from me. Take it from Eric, a.k.a. Pep-Pep. After sampling some fried mung beans, this is what he said:
"Holy crap those are good ... Those are REALLY good ... Those are one of the best snacks I've ever had."

The people have spoken. Fry on, Russ!

McGraw's Spicy Jalapeño Flavored Corn Chips

Is "warm" a taste? My first impression as I put one of "McGraw's Spicy Jalapeño" Fritos in my mouth was that the corn chip seemed to increase in temperature as it sat on my tongue. And it wasn't because of the spice. It felt like it was a corn chip warm off the manufacturing belt. Perhaps the active ingredient in that KY Jelly warming lubricant is derived from the jalapeño.

Let's put the 2-ounce bag down, lick our fingers and back up for a minute.

I noticed McGraw's Spicy Jalapeño Fritos in the office vending machine when I went on a quest for a mid-morning snack. The milk I brought for my cereal smelled like onions, and the Chocolate Silk soy milk I drank only kept me full for so long. Knowing that breakfast is not the time to experiment with novelty food items, I purchased a bag of pretzels knowing I would return to the machine for the Fritos when the time was right.

When I returned to the vending machine after getting some change out of my car it wasn't a moment too soon -- there was only one bag of McGraw's fried slabs of corn paste in the machine.

The McGraw in question is country singer Tim McGraw, and he sure is smug about having his face on a bag of chips. What's perplexing about this is the fact that the bag provides no context for why these chips might be McGraw's.

The package reads:

"Introducing New FRITOS® brand McGraw's Spicy Jalapeño Flavored Corn Chips - the same classic corn taste and hearty FRITOS® crunch you love simply paired with a burst of jalapeño flavor. Who said delicious had to be complicated?"

I think it was Tim McGraw who said that.

I was expecting a story that began, "As a young buck, Mr. McGraw spent a lot of time on his pappy's farm, playin' in the jalapeño pepper patch ..."

Whatever the raison d'être for these chips, I am sad to report that the main experience with these corn chips can be summed up very briefly:

The first bite tastes like genuine jalapeño for an instant, then disappears. Next, a moment of subdued Tex-Mex flavor is followed by a brief tingle of the tongue and throat, then that "I just ate something sort of spicy feeling" lingers in the upper-rear of the throat. The most exciting part about eating them was when an intense burning sensation slowly crept into my nose and made me sneeze.

It looks like Tim McGraw just pulled a fast one.

12 Party Pleasers in Puff Pastry

I have to start this thing off proper with a shout-out to my friend Haim. He runs Frosty Insides, a blog about the contents of refrigerators. When I first saw the title I thought it was rants about being emotionally damaged, which I found odd since he's the coolest dude I've met this year. Luckily, it's another gem from a local food enthusiast. Check me out on last week's Freezer Friday.
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There I was, on the final leg of my shopping trip at the Holiday Market. That's when I saw them. The alliteration was screaming at me from behind the frosty freezer door: "12 Party Pleasers in Puff Pastry."

I knew I had to write about them, with their fantastic use of Title Caps and alliteration. Plus, they were in the Kosher section. But, I almost walked away. As my distance from the curious item -- still in the freezer -- grew, my pace slackened. I stopped dead in my tracks. I had to go back for them.

I returned to the freezer aisle, much to the confusion of the couple in sweatpants who were deciding which "pizzas for one" to select. After at least 30 seconds, I found the little box that had caught my attention. I grabbed it and headed on my way, knowing I'd blow away my previously planned review of 7-11 hotdogs.

These little guys are "not recommended for microwave," so I took a rare opportunity to fire up the inside of my oven. This is an event typically reserved for Stouffer's French Bread Pizzas.

As the party pleasers became golden brown in my Whirlpool Super Capacity 465, I realized that they were somehow familiar. Then, it hit me. I had been served these items at my friends and fellow Vespa enthusiasts Amber and Nate's (yes we are many) house a few weeks ago. But, that was a few weeks ago, so I had to try them once again in order to provide the best possible review. Besides, I had already put them in the damn oven. So much for my plans to eat healthy now that I had turned 25.

Let's cut to the main course here, which ironically is an hors d'oeuvre.

After 15 to 20 minutes, I pulled the flaky, golden-brown morsels out of my oven. Although they had arrived in a tray with individual compartments, there was no guide to what was what and outward appearances were no help. It was time for a blind taste test.

With a choice between spinach and potato, spicy beef turnover and potato, I was pretty certain the first was of the potato variety. I expected it to be undercooked but it was just right. There were hints of garlic and the potato had perfect consistency. It was like a really nice spin on potato and onion pierogi.

Next up was potato and spinach, which was quite disappointing. I would describe its taste as boring. I could only bring myself to eat one.

Finally, I had decided that the large triangles were the beef turnovers. Amazing! I had inadvertently saved the best for last. The beef was somewhat in paste form and tasted like something from the Orient.

I won't recount my experience piece by piece, but I will say this: Party Pleasers in Puff Pastry made me very thirsty and the beef ones had a nice spice to them that lingered in the back of my throat. I really needed an Arnold Palmer iced tea with some gin in it to wash my snack down.

The real question: Would I promptly place these party pleasers in puff pastry on a table at a party for my guests to enjoy?

If I was for some reason hosting a party at my one-bedroom upper flat, yes. The fact that they made me crave booze is a sign of success. Plus, people would mistakenly think I was cultured and my vegetarian friends would probably enjoy the bland spinach puffs. As a service to my guests, I would also have to provide breath mints.

Don't hold your breath for any parties, though.

Burger King Onion Rings Flavored Snacks, reviewed

There was a bag sitting on my desk for a week. Everyone was asking about it. And my guest columnist did not come through. So yesterday, just before noon, I broke the seal on my 1.125-oz. bag of Burger King Onion Rings Flavored Snacks, which I purchased from the vending machine in my office.

My initial impressions of the first ring out of the bag:

• It looks like a circular Taco Bell Cinnamon Twist


• It smells like a Funyun with a hint of cheese -- minus one point


• It tastes like a weak Funyun -- a negative for the taste buds but a plus for post-snack meeting attendance


• It leaves a light, fine residue on your fingers -- not at all sticky or obtrusive

The Onion Rings Flavored Snacks' consistency is sort of "powdery" once bitten. They are not as coarse as Funyuns. And, they're certainly easier to eat than a real onion ring because you don't have to worry about taking a bite that takes the whole inner onion with it, leaving the doughy shell. The flavor is also more consistent than that of the real thing.

There is also an underlying hint of "rice cake," which makes sense considering that this item's description includes the phrase "puffed snacks."

The phrase "deep crunch" is also used, and I feel that this is wholly inaccurate. "Deep crunch" should only be used to describe the sort of snack that cannot be consumed in a classroom with a "no food or drink" policy without being audibly noticed.

Slight digression:
Whenever I have an interesting food item on my desk, my coworkers feel that it's necessary to inspect its nutrition facts. I will be very depressed when I get to this age. For now, I make my food intake decisions based only on flavor potential and novelty. Any way ...

Although I tend to write about the experience of eating instead of evaluating products, I feel that Burger King Onion Rings Flavored Snacks deserve a rating on a numerical scale. And that rating is 5.5 out of 10. I didn't dislike them, yet I would probably never think of them again if it weren't for this blog.