Pepperoncini-flavored Potato Chips?

      

 Since Columbus Day has been all but eradicated (a sensible move, considering history), I suppose the advertising geniuses figured they had to soften up the Italian Americans, offer them something in return, something personal, a memory of the old country. We no longer have a holiday to celebrate our heritage, like Cinco de Mayo or St. Patrick’s Day. One day a year when we get drunk, tell stories, sing sentimental songs and beat up family members. We’re OK with the disappearance of Columbus Day, though. We are still proud of our accomplishments: Food, furniture, the RICO act.

      I don’t know why I was reminded of the fleeting nature of patriotism and culture when I saw Pepperoncini-flavored Potato Chips and I never write about food but, holy crap, that seems like a reach by the snacky industry. Over-reaching, Gluten-free, Verified non-GMO, with the phrase, “Great Taste…Naturally” on the package. Trust me, there isn’t a fucking natural thing about this.

     How many psychedelics must a person ingest to come up with an idea like Pepperoncini-flavored potato chips? Lots.

      I had to buy them. I’m the target demographic and a sucker. Opened them in the car. Sealed so tight that I almost went off the road trying to tear the bag of this tasty car snack. Taste? Nothing like pepperoncini. I like pepperoncini and I’ve got a jar in the fridge. These chips were exactly like the Sea-salt-and-Vinegar flavored ones. Slapping a picture of a pepper on a green bag and calling them Pepperoncini-flavored is not going to fool anyone with a discriminating palate. I know my pickled and preserved snackfoods, goddamnit, and these bambini are several rest stops down the autostrada from authentic pepperoncini. Don’t buy them.

     Advice for the marketing masterminds at the Kettle Corporation: some things look better on paper than on the plate.

      But big ups for making a stab at corralling stray customers who have a desire to honor their ethnicity. At least some ad wizard saw the potential for picking a few bucks from of the pockets of needy second-generation immigrants with developing eating disorders Grazie bastardi.