‘The Ventrilocrisp scans its palette for the olive. Little one, are you there?’
The golden bag is a work of art, with a premium thickness that protects the precious crisps from rough transit. It reads: LIMITED EDITION. A reminder that the crisps are finite; rare as gold. Schwoop-rustle, the Ventrilocrisp slips the crisp into its gullet. Ah, very good. Pleasing crunch and quality, not to mention the fullness of flavour that the Kettle brand does so well. Crunch-crunch. The Ventrilocrisp dips its claw back into the bag. Its eyes move flick-flick to some large individual crisps nestled in there. Ho ho! The Ventrilocrisp masticates. Pauses. The full-bodied, salty cheesiness hits first, and it hits hard. It’s not cheddar, but nor is it recognisably the eponymous feta. Enter the three wise men: thyme, basil and parsley. There’s a shy tang, but it rings increasingly weakly with each bite, like a bell in a mounting thunderstorm. The Ventrilocrisp scans its palette for the olive. Little one, are you there? A faint response, identifiably green olive rather than black, but scarcely perceptible. Thunderous cheesiness stampedes the more subtle flavours; soon the crisp is barely distinguishable from cheese & onion. With a flap-flap of its midnight wings, the Ventrilocrisp leaves the carcass to rot.
O devilish trickery! This is a cheese & onion crisp, dressed up in bourgeois finery. The salty, oily properties of the star ingredients have been cherry-picked; the feta’s unpasteurized tartness and the olive’s bitterness omitted. Duplicitous crisp! Kettle Chips have capitalised on their upmarket status to flatter the consumer, to make him feel a gentleman. But the Ventrilocrisp, canny carrion bird, does not fool so easily. Beautiful packaging may catch the eye, but tricks will only get a crisp so far. It’s the raw meat inside the packet that counts.
- repurchase?❎
- recommend to a friend? ❎
- eat this crisp in public? ☑️
- consider the price to be right ☑️
- readily accessible? ❎
