Snack Snob

Glico Okome Snack

The Snack Snob was passing time at NRT airport looking for a worthy nibble to accompany my long haul flight of eternal sadness. Amongst the many fine choices lies a seductive red beauty with characters I cannot comprehend. But I do recognise those sea scallops which would be rather delightful on a crisp.

Unlike other snacks in its class, this packet does not have a zip-lock seal so you really need to commit and finish the rather generous portion of light yet bite-sized rice crackers. 

I was expecting a wave of ocean brine to envelope my tongue but it was savoury in a indistinct way. It reminded me of the Chinese Wan-Wan cracker seasoning: kinda sweet savoury like good ol’ MSG. It’s nice, but it doesn’t leave me hanging like a coke addict. The sea-duction did not come to pass.

Calbee Jagabee 之び塩味 (Prawn Salt?)

Jagabee is probably as close to a cold potato chip without the limp soggy grease laden pieces you typically get. They are surprisingly crisp, light and have an interesting airy filling much like a hot potato chip! But Calbee is not content on just plain salt, so they’ve introduced Prawn Salt flavoured to make things even more interesting. 

Just looking at the vivid chargrilled crustaceans in the colourful and uncrushable cup packaging makes me wet. Jagabee is pretty tasty to begin with but I couldn’t help but feel that the prawn flavour ain’t “prawny” enough. It’s more salt with a hint of prawn rather than ‘prawn salt’ if that makes any sense. 

But I’m nitpicking here, it would be fantastic with cold beer. 

Asahi やみつきホルモン “Addictive Hormones”

Yes that’s how Google Translate interpreted a packet of pork jerky. But it wasn’t the name that drew me into buying this from a random Japanese bottle shop, but the bright child-like packet featuring a zip-lock top. Why can’t potato chips do the same?

Packaging aside, when you feel the glossy packet in your hands, there is a slight concern on how empty it feels. You fumble and notice a few bumps, but nothing substantial that tells you there’s something special in there. What unveils from the zipper top is like discovering a man’s meat and two veg is a little lacking: little brown bits of pork jerky meat and little bits of fat that resemble toe nail clippings.

To be fair, jerky is not the most beautiful of snacks but it’s all in the taste right? Well sadly, it’s kinda chewy, bit gnarly, and it tastes like soy braised pork left in the dehydrator for weeks. Or is it really made out of hormones? Most jerkys have your hankering for more with its intense salt, spice and sweetness but this just falls flat. The only thing this packs is disappointment.

Calbee “Typhoon Shelter Style” Prawn Crackers

Here’s a Hong Kong special edition report folks. The snack snob is always on the prowl for regional specialities so one random visit to 7 Eleven found this special flavoured prawn crackers. I like to eat like a local.

Typhoon Shelter Style sounds like a long forgotten martial art taught by a reclusive monk, but the flavour base is based off a famed preparation of seafood that involves lots of fried garlic, chilli, onion and black bean. Can’t be that bad right?

Prawn crackers are pretty tasty to begin with, so whack on this extra layer of intense flavours and your palate becomes overwhelmed with garlicky spice, salty overtones, and hint of chilli. It’s perfect on a hot day with a nice cold beer and some mates whilst talking Kung fu movies.

Mattessons Fridge Raiders - Southern Fried Flavour

In this day of Instagram likes, Yelp scores and Tinder swipes, the best snacks are ready to eat. Unfortunately the list of instantly gratifying snack foods are seldom beyond the biscuit and crisp aisles. Now you health nuts back home might be screaming out "what about fresh fruit?" but I’m talking about a snack you can share with friends, not burn bridges with.

The team at Matthessons sought to marry two perfect things: snacks in convenient foil packets and fried chicken! Yes, that sentence does need a second read. And look, you’re not eating mystery meat because it’s 100% all chicken breast too.

Rip open the pack and a thumble around unveils pinky sized nuggets of breaded chicken that just pop into your mouth. Unfortunately being a fridge snack, it’s cold, has the texture of a damp kitchen sponge, and smells of disappointment. Most likely the chicken bits were derived from a clever marketing team who thought chicken breast was reconstituted table cloth.

Sadly, this is one example where the limits of convenience should not be crossed.

Waitrose Sticky Toffee Puddings

If you walk into any English pub and ask for a dessert menu, you might be met with a blank face. And that’s not because you’re not ordering a pint, it’s because they have a pudding menu instead. That’s like asking for a pavlova menu or a green tea ice cream selection and not getting a dirty look on how much of a dessert douche bag you sound like. For reasons beyond me, puddings are serious business here.

It's no surprise this extends to the supermarket where the pudding section can sometimes rival shelf space reserved for yoghurt. Perhaps there’s a sense of familiarity and satisfaction with puddings. Eating a pudding means you won’t get dicked around like a flaky Tinder date. Sticky date pudding is a classic amongst fail safes, and whilst boring, there’s something about a steamy sensation covered in hot sauce. Or am I still talking about that Tinder date?

The Waitrose house brand pudding needs nothing more than a few pokes on the film lid and some time in the microwave. I love the drama of flipping the pudding onto a plate and watching that toffee sauce cascade like lava down a volcano. It’s best paired with a scoop of vanilla ice cream as its rather diabetic in sugar levels. The pudding menu deserves its place, even the instant ones.

Jack Links Beef Snack Original

I often wonder how man’s love and affection over meat came about. All steakhouses have a certain regal statesman look about them that makes your balls hang slightly lower as you walk in. And you’d never find a steak sandwich amongst the dainty cucumber ones at high tea. Men can dream.

The only explanation is that mans love of meat is instinctual. It’s hard wired into our brains that to be strong, dominant and relevant, you must eat what you hunt. Sadly, hunting these days involves a gold American Express instead of an iron spear. The clever team at Jack Links who dominate the local beef jerky market thought of something ingenious: a steak-sized portable 24/7 snack that can be eaten when Neanderthal man beckons, anytime, anywhere. 

Peel open the handy sized wrapper and immediately you notice a disparity between expectation and reality comparable to the invention of the push-up bra. It is more like big piece of jerky rather than a meat snack. And those ‘grill marks’ are kinda pathetic on a dehydrated piece of cow sourced from an unknown location, and possibly an unknown era. If man can put themselves on the moon, and surely they deserve better than this.

Essential Waitrose Gooseberry Fruit Fool

As a bit of a food nerd, I take a lot of pride in knowing. Knowing all about ingredients, where to eat, and what to eat. So one fine sunny day, a typical wander in the milk aisle uncovered what could be comparable to discovering in a secret room King Tut’s teddy bear. It was a gooseberry fool.

By my powers of deduction, it was pitched as a dessert amongst the more pedestrian offerings of chocolate mousse and strawberry trifle. There was no way I could miss this opportunity to expand my pokedex of food. The good thing was this non descript tub was going anywhere and it wasn’t cheaper than a litre of milk.

What awaits after you peel open the foil lid like a kid on Christmas Day is a blank mass of dairy something. I would describe a fool as a cross between yoghurt and mousse without the benefits of either. The tart gooseberries have been minced and folded into the fool so that you have no hope to pick out the buggers. So it seems, this is one discovery worth leaving behind.

Marks & Spencer - Mini Cornish Cruncher Cheddar Cheese Biscuits

Never mind the premium black on gold exterior, just look at that name! Some nursery rhymes are shorter and contain less redundant words. The target market of organic loose leaf tea sipping gourmets already know cheddar is cheese. But I’m still puzzled what a Cornish Cruncher is.

The miniature shape allows one piece to fit entirely in ones mouth whilst having a deep intellectual conversation about Donald Trumps hairdresser. In other words, it’s the perfect size.

Ok and we need to have a conversation about the cheese content because it's pretty impressive. Even mice would be happy eating these. I wish they were a tad more buttery but I think that would make the already long product name longer. Superlatives aside, this one is a keeper.

Marks & Spencer - Cajun Spiced Plantain Chips

I’m often sceptical of seasonal/limited edition flavours. If they were so good, why not offer them all year round? But I’m not one to shy away from satisfying my curiosities in snack food. The alluring kaleidoscope foil packet caught my dog-like attention span.

Plantain you say? All the way from South America in fact because it’s presumably more authentic. Though I couldn’t help but feel a little short changed with the portion size that’s so stingy you might as well lock yourself up in a bathroom as there’s nothing to share.

So is it worth sharing? Well the chips are a cross between a thick cut potato and a yam in texture, decently spiced in a tex-mex kind of vibe. Interesting, like how sweet potato crisps are, but not moorish over your humble potato crisp. Perhaps sharing might be the right thing to do after all.

Tokyo Series - Glico Gomaaza

What looks like miniature pizza shaped bits of charcoal hides a deep roasted black sesame embedded throughout the biscuit.

It’s strangely addictive, almost bacon-like despite the unappetising appearance that pairs perfectly with a cold beer and good company. Just make sure your company has an adventurous palate!

Marks and Spencer Bacon, Tomato & Worcester Sauce Potato Snacks

Ah those creative lab technicians at M&S have been pushing the snack market further than the next iPhone reveal. This time we have a potato crisp that isn’t fried! And because it’s not fried, it can’t be called a crisp.

Open the rather ambiguous foil packet and you are greeted with thinly sliced rounds of potato that look like any other crisp. The only difference is that it looks rather desiccated as if these potatoes have never tasted water growing up. Yes this is totally minor.

It definitely delivers on flavour, well seasoned throughout the pack with a nice smoky bbq kind of vibe. Tasty. And what’s even better is that your little fingers are not left in a slick of grease. So what’s in a name?

Pret a Manger - Handmade Carrot Cake

Fancy that, a ready-to-go slice of cake to make every office desk tea party as delightful as Alice smoking happy gas with the Cheshire Cat. It’s apparently ‘handmade’ too because we all know that a grumpy old lady stirring a giant vat of batter makes it extra tasty.

The little cardboard container serves no purpose other than delay you from your cake. It is still prone to being crushed in a bottom of a cake. Which leads me onto its biggest problem: the fragility of the cake.

Not even a brain surgeons hands can eat this cake without it crumbling like the Pantheon. As soon as you peel the sheet of paper from the icing, your fingers are sticky and half the cake is on the floor before you even eat it. And what little remains in your hands isn’t really with savouring either. The cake has no real heft, the icing is on the sugary side, and you have a mess on the floor to clean up.

Hunger Breaks - The Full Monty

Nothing is more manly than eating out of a can. No man can resist the opportunity to flex their biceps in front of the ladies as you pry open the tin lid. What makes this snack even more appealing is the idea of a panty-ready full English breakfast for just £1.50 ready to be nuked when the hunger hits.

First impressions are appealing. Pop open the lid and you will be pleasantly surprised the contents don’t resemble a dog’s barf. You can actually see decently proportioned chunks of sausage, mystery meat, potato, beans and mushrooms that isn’t too far off the professional photo label.

But that’s where the fun ends. It is all a big mirage. And like a mirage, it leaves you dissatisfied and very thirsty, literally. The sauce seems to absorb what little saliva you have in your mouth at 7am in the morning and turn it into the Sahara desert. The promise of sausages, bacon slices and a beef cutlet actually tastes like three different textures of the same franken-animal compound: squishy, squeaky, and mushy. Absolutely horrid.

Come to think of it, these don’t even deserve to be stockpiled as rations for natural disasters. Who wants to eat dire straits in a can?

Sainsbury’s Taste the Difference Madagascan Vanilla Ice Cream

It’s not enough to be ‘vanilla’ these days. No one wants to be friends with someone who orders classic vanilla ice cream over flavours such as salted caramel and Italian tiramisu. Our good friends at Sainsbury’s understands that many fans of plain vanilla are closet lovers, too afraid to come out with pride.

So call it Madagascan Vanilla that’s made in Devon to challenge the geographically inclined and give it a premium label. Open the lid and you immediately notice that this vanilla ain’t no Snow White. It’s actually tinted with a touch of beige from the real vanilla extracts which has a nice fragrance to it.

Is it the vanilla lovers saviour? Sadly no. Despite a clean vanilla flavour and well balanced sweetness, it’s far too hard, even after 15 minutes outside the freezer. It scoops out into broken chunks, tastes more like iced cream than ice cream, and lacks the velvety texture on the palate. I’m afraid vanilla lovers will have to keep eating in the darkness, for now.