Forget roasts and puddings, sausage rolls and afternoon tea. Because when it comes to Britain’s true gift to global gastronomy, it has to be the magnificent crisp.
Not so much the dull but respectable likes of Walkers Salt & Vinegar, very much the ‘vanilla’ end of the savoury snack spectrum. Rather the so-called ‘retro’ varieties, such as Frazzles, Skips and Discos, crunchy classics of the 1970s and 1980s.
Just this week, supermarket sales data showed a huge surge in the popularity of these lunchbox legends, with videos on TikTok and Instagram apparently driving the trend.
Tom Parker Bowles puts a lunchbox legend crisp flavour to the test
Sales of Frazzles have leapt 48 per cent this year, with Quavers (47 per cent) and Chipsticks (42 per cent) following close behind. To some, this may seem surprising, the edible equivalent of The Expendables, in which a grizzled gang of once-mighty mouthfuls reunite for one crazy last mission. But as rapper LL Cool J once growled, ‘Don’t call it a comeback: I been here for years.’
For as any self-respecting child of the 1970s and 1980s knows, Frazzles, Skips, Chipsticks and Discos – with other A-listers including Monster Munch, Hula Hoops, Scampi Fries, Space Raiders and Nik Naks – have never gone away.
Smiths was the original British crisp company, with the eponymous Frank Smith’s factory first frying up thinly sliced potatoes in Cricklewood, north-west London, in 1920. They came with a small greaseproof paper twist of salt, so the punter could season to taste.
Joe ‘Spud’ Murphy, the Irishman behind the excellent Tayto crisps, invented flavoured crisps with his Cheese & Onion in Dublin in 1954.
Golden Wonder had their time in the sun from the 1960s on, but now Walkers, who started making crisps in Leicester in 1948, and introduced the world to Salt & Vinegar – bestride the UK crisp market like a ‘flavouring’ coated colossus.
The 1970s, though, was indeed the great British crisp’s golden age. Starting with Wotsits in 1970, Hula Hoops, Skips, Frazzles, Monster Munch and Discos soon followed. ‘What a decade,’ Tweeted author and broadcaster Richard Osmond in 2019.
And what a decade. Because with their packets’ bright colours, crazy fonts and the crisps’ unconventional ingredients (Skips are mainly tapioca starch, Quavers, potato starch, and Monster Munch made from maize), it seemed they were exclusively created just for us kids. Which, of course, they were.
We were only too happy to leave our parents to their dreary Ready Salted. We had Pickled Onion Monster Munch, its coating so sharp that the tongue pimpled.
The marketing, too, was spot on. I was obsessed with the three Monster Munch monsters. One of the high points of my young years was winning a huge, cuddly ‘Pink’ monster toy (the face of roast beef flavour) in a shooting range at Barry Island, South Wales. Since that triumph, the rest of my life has seemed rather an anticlimax.
But I’ve never lost my love for these retro classics. Any car journey simply isn’t complete without a packet of Scampi Fries. I genuinely believe that any service station which fails to stock these sea-scented works of art should lose its right to flog their overpriced fuel.
My daughter loves Quavers (as do I), while my son is a sucker for roast beef Monster Munch. And while I frown somewhat on the sheer volume of the ‘Grab Bag’ (what’s wrong with small packets, you rapacious marketeers?), it’s heartening to know the magic endures.
As for the hordes of recent posh varieties, get thee behind me, over-salted Satan!
Who in their right mind would want a prosecco-flavoured crisp? And while the black truffle-flavoured Torres crisps are excellent (the Spanish, like the Mexicans are also masters of the art), these so-called ‘gourmet’ varieties are often best dumped in the bin.
It all began in 1988 with Kettle Chips, the smug American imports that think they’re a whole lot finer than they actually are. Although made in Norfolk, from British potatoes, they remind me of those patronising friends of your parents, you could never bear as a child.
Pringles, which landed here in 1991, are a whole lot more fun, although horribly addictive. Once you pop, you really can’t stop.
And while I will eternally miss the brusquely macho, no-nonsense heft of the Brannigans Beef & Mustard, (someone, please, bring them back), I do have a healthy respect for Burts Mature Cheddar & Onion, Tyrells Sea Salt & Cider vinegar and McCoy’s Flame Grilled Steak.
But really, I couldn’t be more delighted about the recent surge of popularity in these old-school classics. And while it’s wonderful to see a new generation embracing our beloved ‘retro’ crisps, we true aficionados have, of course, never let them go.
A BIT OF AN ANIMAL: PICKLED ONION MONSTER MUNCH
The flavour lacks the 1980s acidic kick, but these big ‘baked corn’ snacks are as crunchy as ever and have a pleasing heft. 4/5
A CRUNCHY CLASSIC: CRISPY BACON FRAZZLES
With their faint red stripes (to make them look like real slices of streaky bacon), these childhood classics have a satisfying crunch. But the bacon flavour is a little underpowered, and not a patch on the markedly superior Bacon Fries (from Smith’s). They’re also quite salty, too. I haven’t eaten these for a while, and found them mildly disappointing. 3/5
KING OF THE RETRO CRISP: SCAMPI FRIES
The Ozymandias of the crisp world: ‘Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair.’ These small golden pillows are the epitome of crisp snack perfection. The bag is small, but perfectly formed, leaving you just about sated, but still wanting more. The crunch is sublime and there are notes of salt, sea, lemon and, yes, scampi, melded into an intoxicatingly magical melange. This is what every crisp wants to be when it grows up, perhaps one of the crowning glories of all human civilisation. 5/5
AN ALL-TIME FAVOURITE: CHIPSTICKS/CO-OP SALT & VINEGAR STICKS
One of my favourite brands of all – bracingly acidic with a good greasy crunch. But sadly they are very hard to find. Five supermarkets and ten different corner shops yielded no joy. So I substituted Co-op Salt & Vinegar sticks which, while not quite up to the caustic brilliance of the original, will most certainly do just fine. 3.5/5
A MODERN, CURLY MASTERPIECE: QUAVERS
These Walkers wonders were invented way back in 1968 by Smiths and made in their Lincoln factory. And there’s a reason for the length of their reign – they’re a modern masterpiece: light, curly, crisp and cheesy. Damn, I could eat these by the fistful and never feel sick. In the 1990s, they even inspired a bit of Cockney rhyming slang. A ‘cheesy quaver’ was a ‘raver’. Anyway. I’m devouring these as I write this review. Pure potato puff perfection. 5/5
PUNK HIT WITH A SUBTLE KICK: NICE ‘N’ SPICY NIK NAKS
Although nice, these aren’t particularly spicy, despite their name. They have a soft, gentle crunch, and a brisk, Worcestershire sauce-scented tang. Nik Naks were once the wild kids of the ‘retro’ crisp world, vaguely punky with a slightly rough edge. Age has mellowed them somewhat, although they still have a subtle kick. 3/5
IN SHADOW OF SCAMPI FRIES: SCAMPI ‘N’ LEMON NIK NAKS
Although perfectly passable, the poor scampi ‘n’ lemon Nik nak will always suffer from sitting in the mighty shadow of the Scampi Fry. The flavouring is heavier on the lemon that its peerless cousin, and the crunch is decent. But these lack depth, and any whiff of the ocean. Just about ok if you can’t find the real thing, but very much the second division of salted savoury snacks. 2.5/5
GROOVE INTO DISCO FEVER: SALT & VINEGAR DISCOS
These taste rather like flat versions of Hula Hoops. Which makes sense, as they’re both made by KP. The flavouring is decent enough, but that texture, which works so magically when formed into a hoop, doesn’t quite work when flattened out. Good, but not great. Oh, and a brief note on Hula Hoops. Yes, they are classic, but I don’t actually lump them with the rest of the retro bites. 3/5
SNACK THAT’S OUT OF THIS WORLD: PICKLED ONION SPACE RAIDERS
I remember these being rather cheaper that the other brands when I was young (they’re made by KP) and sometimes available in all manner of lurid shades. Which only added to their underground appeal. Shaped like alien heads, they have a decent crunch, but it’s their pickled onion flavouring that really set them apart. It has real bite and reminds me of pickled onion Monster Munch back in the day. Anyway, I like them rather a lot. 4/5
PRAWN CRACKER OF A CRISP: SKIPS
My youthful obsession with prawn cocktail flavourings has dimmed somewhat, along with a passion for Skips. They’re perfectly respectable, the tapioca starch giving a light, airy crunch similar to prawn crackers. And while respectably salty, the prawn flavour is somewhat fleeting. A ‘gateway’ crisp, I suppose, for the retro curious. 3/5