Move Beyond The World of Gourmet Cheese: France's Crisps Are Utterly Decadent.
This past Christmas, I found myself in the French countryside, an area that appeared exuding refined charm. Tasteful, twinkling lights, village market booths overflowing with remarkably pristine fruit and vegetables, and a vast array of cheeses capable of clogging the whole Eurotunnel with dairy fat. Overflowing trays of lustrous seafood atop ice beds seen through fogged brasserie windows. While observing a extended but civil procession of stylish locals collecting their craft Christmas cakes, I mused, with some guilt, that my home town, York, which becomes a contemporary interpretation of a scene of decadence over the holidays featuring e-cigarettes tasting of mincemeat and pre-mixed cocktails, would do well to absorb a few lessons.
A Refined Veneer
Yet all this “art de vivre” business is just a refined front – The nation falls victim equally to its most primal cravings as the rest of us. Merely enter a local *supermarché* and the truth is revealed. The potato chip section constitutes a temple of indulgence, lined with flavours including Roquefort, falafel, *carbonade flamande* and *beurre salé* tastes. What kind of person consumes chips that taste of butter? It is reminiscent of something from one of those American fairs where they submerge butter patties in hot oil. One popular comic recently claimed they are the ultimate chip in her experience, though she has clearly been influenced by a form of Breton brainwashing – she grew up in Brittany.
A Global Lawlessness
I know the crisp flavouring industry across the globe is just as anarchic as major tech firms. Nobody seems willing to permit the tuber to taste of itself, enhanced only as necessary by a simple, respectful sprinkle of sodium. Our own nation possesses a checkered past with crisp flavours on British soil, particularly during the festive period. The year 2025, let us not forget, bestowed upon us Christmas-cake flavoured crisps and special-release pastry-and-meat potato snacks. And who could forget that time a famous high-street chain believed “prosecco and winter berry” constituted a desirable taste on a potato chip? I had higher hopes from the home of haute cuisine.
Where does it end? Foie gras crisps? Profiterole? Cigarette-tasting crisps? I should stop, lest I provide inspiration.
