Latest news with #crisps
BBC News
6 days ago
- Business
- BBC News
Corkers Crisps rebuild stopped by planning condition, says owner
A crisp manufacturer said he could not rebuild his business after a devastating fire due to a planning "obstacle".Ross Taylor runs family-firm Corkers Crisps, based at Willow Farm in Pymoor, Ely, Cambridgeshire, whose factory burned down in to rebuild have been approved nearly five years after submission, but with the condition that the factory can only use crops grown at Willow Farm, owned by Mr argued this would make the business unviable, but East Cambridgeshire District Council said this was a similar condition to that in the factory's original planning permissions. The gourmet crisp business was founded in 2010 to diversify the farm's income and grew to employ 100 people and turn over £10m a to restart the business, Mr Taylor submitted a planning he said the approved plan limited the firm to using potatoes grown on just 20 acres (eight hectares), yielding about 70 tonnes, enough for two days of production."We wouldn't be able to buy from other local farmers or import from elsewhere," he Taylor added that this felt like a "vendetta" and that the council was "trying to put obstacles in the way". The council previously accused the company of breaching planning rules by using imported also accused it of depositing waste at the site, a claim Mr Taylor disputed, saying these items were building materials that were later moved."I always thought we would be [back] up and running within two years," Mr Taylor said."We have been through seven planning officers, dozens of changes of legislation which has held things up, and we feel like we have been put to the back of the pile and no-one's really wanted us to have it back."He added: "They do not want any rural agricultural developments; they want everything up on the industrial estate and that's as far as it goes. "Us poor old farmers who are trying to make a living can't afford to have businesses up on industrial estates because we are committed to our farms." Mr Taylor warned the decision could "finish" the business and hurt local farmers struggling to sell their crops. He said this was produce that could have been used by the factory. Local farmer Dale Parson said he had been forced to store his potatoes for a year in the hope of finding a buyer, paying up to £1,000 a month in electricity he had to send them for anaerobic digestion."It's a job to get out the house sometimes in the morning. This is one of the loneliest jobs," he said."You're damned if you do and damned if you don't. "If [crops] get diseases in a field, that you can stomach because you can put it down to something, but when you have grown product in good condition, it's heart-breaking." The council said Corkers Crisps had stated one of its "key selling points" was "the unique flavour" from potatoes grown in soil surrounding the added on-site growing also reduced traffic through local villages and the condition that only farm-grown produce be used was similar to a 2013 clause in its planning permission supporting farm diversification.A spokesperson said importing goods would count as a change of use and would need a change-of-use application to assess the potential effects. Follow Cambridgeshire news on BBC Sounds, Facebook, Instagram and X.
The Sun
21-07-2025
- Business
- The Sun
Popular crisps brand brings back iconic flavour which rivals McCoy's classic
A POPULAR crisps brand has brought back a limited-edition flavour that had fans going wild. Seabrook's Loaded Tasty Takeouts Burger crisps in the Sizzlin' Steak Burger Flavour will be landing back on Aldi shelves this week. The flavour was initially released as a limited edition back in April in Aldi's middle aisles. But after disappearing from shelves for a short time, it's now coming back again on Sunday. The packs cost £1.25 for 130g. They are also gluten free and vegan. Foodies spotted the crisps on shelves back in April, with some saying they were "very nice". One person commented: "It seems just when Walkers discontinue their range or flavours, Seabrook just bring out more choice." Popular Instagram reviewer John's Snack Reviews posted a review of the crisps previously, saying they tasted "like a big mac without the gerkin". He added: "It's got that musky chargrill with hints of beef along with the big mac burger flavour." At the time, Seabrook also brought out another flavour called Spicy Mexican Taco. It said both flavours were limited edition so "they won't be around for too long". Wake up to a weed-free lawn for months thanks to Aldi's £10 gadget that pulls them out without bending or kneeling down The Sizzlin' Steak Burger flavour could be a good dupe for McCoy's iconic Flame Grilled Steak crisps. You can get a multipack of six of these for £1.74 at Asda or currently £1.75 at Waitrose. Elsewhere they're £2.35 at Morrisons or Ocado. Reviewers say the McCoy version is "truly a household favourite" and "so delicious and moreish". Seabrook recently brought back another iconic flavour that rivalled a Walkers classic. The crinkle cut Tomato Ketchup crisps are available in Morrisons, where shoppers can pick up packs of six 25g bags for £1.45. The supermarket launched the limited-edition crisps in stores on May 19. They are similar to Walkers' Heinz Tomato Ketchup bags, which were confirmed as re-launched in March after being axed in 2023. Why are products axed or recipes changed? ANALYSIS by chief consumer reporter James Flanders. Food and drinks makers have been known to tweak their recipes or axe items altogether. They often say that this is down to the changing tastes of customers. There are several reasons why this could be done. For example, government regulation, like the "sugar tax," forces firms to change their recipes. Some manufacturers might choose to tweak ingredients to cut costs. They may opt for a cheaper alternative, especially when costs are rising to keep prices stable. For example, Tango Cherry disappeared from shelves in 2018. It has recently returned after six years away but as a sugar-free version. Fanta removed sweetener from its sugar-free alternative earlier this year. Suntory tweaked the flavour of its flagship Lucozade Original and Orange energy drinks. While the amount of sugar in every bottle remains unchanged, the supplier swapped out the sweetener aspartame for sucralose.
CNN
17-07-2025
- Entertainment
- CNN
The greasy airbag of gratification that became Britain's national dish
Fried breakfast. Sunday lunch. Fish and chip supper. Any member of this holy triumvirate might qualify for the title of Britain's National Dish. Except that Britain's real signature plate isn't served on a plate at all, but from a metalized plastic bag. It doesn't sizzle or boil, but rustles and crunches — a greasy airbag of impetuous gratification, snacky saline satisfaction, and ultimately, empty calories. This is the story of the crisp — the wafer-thin sliced, deep-fried slivers of seasoned potato that continue to hook millions, and stole the hearts of a nation in more ways than one. Tune into BBC Radio 6 Music on a Sunday morning, and between tunes from CMAT and Radiohead, you may well hear the sound of someone nibbling on crisps. The presenters Marc Radcliffe and Stuart Maconie have not been caught off guard snacking between tracks however; 'Crisps on the Radio' is a long-running segment on their morning show, in which listeners mail in packets of crisps they've discovered from around the world, and Radcliffe and Maconie attempt to work out what flavor they're supposed to be. This whimsical use of airtime underscores Brits' unparalleled affinity with the crisp, a snack that is infinitely more than just a snack. Britons consume some 10 billion bags of crisps each year. On weekday lunchtimes, walls of crisps are raided from British supermarkets, as workers grab a bag as part of a 'meal deal.' Picnics in the park are considered piteous without the addition of a family-sized bag of crisps. Online commentators endlessly shuffle crisps into tiers of deliciousness, while stand-up comedians count the ways in which people finish off the crumbly remnants of their crisp packet. In 2022, Nigella Lawson, one of the country's most adored TV cooks, teamed up with Walkers — the nation's best-selling crisps brand — to create a recipe for the perfect crisp sandwich (ingredients: bread, butter, crisps). The next year, Kicks Bar and Grill in Hull, in the northeast of England inveigled customers through its doors with an all-you-can-eat crisp buffet. In her 2024 book 'Crunch: An Ode to Crisps,' Natalie Whittle writes: 'It is hard to escape the strange connective force of crisps in British life.' You might say the Brits have an unhealthy obsession with the crisp. But how did it get here in the first place? The answer is: it came from America. Sort of. It's an origin story worthy of Hollywood. The setting: Moon's Lake House restaurant in Saratoga Springs, New York, 1853. The main players: chef George Crum, and diner/railway tycoon/fussy eater Cornelius Vanderbilt. The tale goes that Vanderbilt demanded Crum cut his potatoes thinner… and thinner… and thinner. Crum eventually blew his top, shaved the potatoes passive-aggressively thin with a mandolin, and sent them back out to the customer in spite. Except that Vanderbilt loved these crackly scraps of salted spud, and thus 'Saratoga Chips' were born. It's likely this anecdote was bent into more pleasing shape over time — for one thing, Crum's sister Catherine Adkins Wicks always maintained she'd been the one manning the frying pan, not Crum — but it's true that someone at Moon's Lake House sliced those potatoes wafer thin, and it's also true that, before the century was out, industrious business folk like William Tappenden had pounced on the snack's potential as a store-sold item, not just a restaurant specialty. Any Brits in need of a lie down after hearing this distinctly un-British backstory, however, can breathe easy. Technically, the crisp had already been invented over in England; here, in 1817, the first known crisp recipe was published in William Kitchiner's 'The Cook's Oracle' as 'Potatoes fried in Slices or Shavings': 'Peel large potatoes; slice them about a quarter of an inch thick, or cut them in shavings round and round, as you would peel a lemon; dry them well in a clean cloth, and fry them in lard or dripping….' Kitchiner, who was born and died in London, is also known for whipping up the first-ever batch of Wow-Wow Sauce. The fact he was also a doctor may raise eyebrows now, given the crisp's dubious health implications. It may be that only a handful of Brits ever tried Kitchiner's crisp recipe anyway — but he does appear to have got there before anyone else, American or otherwise. And while commercially shrewd America had a headstart when it came to marketing the potato chip in the late 19th/early 20th century, Britain took up the baton full-heartedly in 1920, thanks to the entrepreneur Frank Smith, who converted two garages in the north London suburb of Cricklewood into the country's first crisp factory. Smith's real breakthrough though was a delightfully simple one. As pub landlords quickly grew annoyed that their customers were stealing salt shakers in order to season their slivers of fried potato, Smith introduced a twist of blue paper, each containing a pinch of salt, and added to every greaseproof bag. Now the British crisp was really cooking, and by the time the country was through with World War II, the market had grown hungrier than ever. Edinburgh's Golden Wonder and Sunderland's Tudor crisp companies arrived on the scene in 1947. The following year, Henry Walker, a butcher in the central English city of Leicester, pivoted his business to make hand-sliced crisps. That same company now produces over 11 million bags of crisps a day. But there was an elephant in the room. The crisp was relentlessly monotone. You could have any flavor, as long as it was salted/unsalted. Neither the Americans nor the Brits solved this particular issue. That was a job for Dublin-born Joe 'Spud' Murphy, who shunned a life in the priesthood ('To hell with this, we need one sinner in the family') and instead formed the Tayto crisp company, in 1954. Sick to the back teeth of plain crisps, Murphy made his first point of order to add a seasoning powder to his Taytos, namely Cheese and Onion. The people went for it, boosted by early marketing campaigns which advised these crisps were the ideal accompaniment to salads… and fried breakfasts. The Smith's salt sachet suddenly seemed altogether quaint. Golden Wonder copied Tayto with its own Cheese and Onion offering. Then, in 1967, Tudor (by now a subsidiary of Smith's) released the first Salt and Vinegar crisps, a tongue-tingling seasoning that remains a stalwart today. More riotous flavors followed, albeit still geared towards British/Irish palates: Pickled Onion, Lamb & Mint Sauce, Curry, Gammon & Pineapple. A 1981 episode of the BBC consumer TV show 'That's Life!' thrust unmarked bowls of crisps in front of unsuspecting members of the public, inviting them to guess the flavor (perhaps that's where 'Crisps on the Radio' got its idea from). 'It's not snake is it?' ventured one gentleman, chewing timidly on a prawn cocktail crisp. Crisp lovers were now tasting in Technicolor, and in the same year the 'That's Life!' episode aired, flavors really jumped the shark — in fact another animal altogether — thanks to Hedgehog-flavoured crisps, the barmy brainchild of pub landlord Phillip Lewis. Lewis was soon after forced to tweak the name to Hedgehog Flavour Crisps, because they did not in fact contain hedgehog, but he'd made his point: anything in the world of crisps was possible. In the 1980s the crisp became a staple of British life. The punk band Splodgenessabounds released 'Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps Please', a distorted paean to a common order down the local pub. Come the middle of the decade, Brits were splashing an extraordinary £805m (over a billion dollars) on crisps and snacks alone. Companies upped the ante with TV commercials. Walkers — by now pulling away from the competition — called in the big guns. The veteran English comedian Ronnie Barker asked viewers 'Don't you insist on Walkers crisps?'. What turned out to be the ultimate coup for Walkers, though, was a call-up for the England soccer striker Gary Lineker. Like Walkers, Lineker hailed from Leicester, and — putting a spin on his real-life clean-cut image — the sports star gamely moonlighted as a crisp-thieving bad lad. So began a beautiful friendship. During the 1990s Lineker played the hammy villain opposite A-listers like the Spice Girls, Bugs Bunny and his former England teammate Paul 'Gazza' Gascoigne. For a while, the brand's Salt and Vinegar crisps were even renamed 'Salt and Lineker.' Increasingly, kids became the target of these campaigns; not just thanks to an ever-swelling medley of flavors, but the promise of free Mega Fiddler toys and Star Wars Tazos slipped inside packets. Crisps now inhabited the same universe as football, pop music, movies and cartoons. They even became a fashion accessory; Natalie Whittle writes in 'Crunch: An Ode to Crisps' about how she'd shrink old crisp packets in the oven. These could then be used as things like earrings and key fobs. 'My memory is lots of children revelling in crisps just as much as I did,' writes Whittle. But a second kind of crisp had also taken wing, as the snack started to grow up. 'I haven't met anyone yet who has said they don't like crisps. I'm not sure I could ever truly trust someone who said they didn't!' says the drinks writer Neil Ridley. His 2024 book, 'The Crisp Sommelier,' pairs 185 different styles and flavors of crisp with various wines, beers, hard ciders and cocktails (a fine white Burgundy 'sits wonderfully,' Ridley recommends, with the light meatiness of a smoked ham crisp). 'As adults, we're supposed to abandon the flavors of our childhoods as we grow up and explore more sophisticated tastes and flavors,' says Ridley, 'So for me, 'The Crisp Sommelier' really taps into that fondness for nostalgic flavours and aligns it with the obviously more adult themes of alcohol pairing.' Ridley's book also taps into a concept of crisp elevation which was already underway 40-odd years ago. In 1988, Kettle Brand Chips — first established in Salem, Oregon — established an outpost in Norfolk, England, bringing a thicker-cut crisp made from organic potatoes and oil to the British market. The bag was bigger, too, encouraging a sense of the deluxe and communal — something to pour into bowls at social gatherings and have people pick at while sipping their aperitifs. 'I'm in heaven,' gushed a columnist for the Shields Daily Gazette local newspaper in 2001. 'Kettle Chips has launched its latest seasonal edition… Sour Cream, Lemon and Black Pepper is the flavoursome snack to die for. Our friends popped round for Sunday tea and the Kettle Chips proved a huge hit.' Crisps could now be aspirational for adults as well as kids, something to show off to friends and neighbors, like a new dress or television. Other 'posh' brands followed suit. Tyrells — flaunting a rustic farmyard provenance, and potatoes with names like Lady Rosetta and Lady Claire — came onto the scene in 2002. Walkers ran with the herd, launching its Sensations range in 2002. Literally branded as 'Posh crisps from Walkers,' these were initially promoted with the help of Victoria Beckham, aka Posh Spice, in a commercial which saw her famous soccer-playing husband being switched out for, you guessed it, Gary Lineker. In 2025, the quest for the perfect crisp continues. While this year's Edinburgh Festival Fringe performance arts event includes a show about exactly that, current crisp trends include Slabs, comically chunky discs of potato that rail against the innate thinness of the crisp, come in flavors including Pan-Fried Egg, and can be sourced at trendy pubs like the Shirker's Rest in New Cross, South London — where they encourage you to dunk it in another British culinary obsession: brown sauce. Meanwhile, harking back to crisps' restaurant origins, Liverpool's critically-acclaimed eatery Manifest has been praised for its 'still warm' salt and vinegar crisps starter — perhaps not a million miles from the ones Cornelius Vanderbilt fell in love with back in 1853. Long derided as a (literally) pale imitation of the British crisp, some European offerings have now caught the attention of Brits too. Torres crisps, made near Barcelona in Spain, come in flavors including Iberian Ham, and Extra Virgin Olive Oil, and have almost become a form of British tapas for the languorous middle classes. Well-founded concerns around the health implications of a nation hooked on crisps (in 2006 the British Heart Foundation ran an infamous campaign showing a young girl chugging a bottle of cooking oil) mean that many healthier options are now on the table too, including crisps that are baked or roasted, rather than fried. Ingredients like root vegetables, lentils and chickpeas are increasingly used in place of the potato, though most crisp eaters would suggest that's an entirely different taxonomy of snack altogether. No one's thrown in the towel on unearthing the next big flavor, no matter how abnormal that might turn out to be; a glance at Museum of Crisps' preposterous list reveals a litany of Wonka-esque freaks: Candy Cane, Gin & Tonic, Rose Petal, Pumpkin Pie. Walkers alone has 125 flavors on British shelves at any one time, while its boffins toil away in 'crisp test kitchens,' dreaming up more. Walkers fans pitch new flavor ideas to the company every single day. And yet, the truth is, the best crisp flavors were discovered a long time ago. Cheese and Onion remains the most popular flavor of both Walkers and Tayto, despite being the first one ever trialed, almost 70 years ago. 'These humble flavours have really stood the test of time,' says Stephanie Herbert, head of marketing at Walkers. When it comes to upmarket crisps, the classic flavors win out too. 'Lye Cross Cheddar & Onion, Anglesey Sea Salt, and Burrow Hill Cider Vinegar are the top picks,' says Herbert, of the Pipers range, which Walkers owners PepsiCo bought out in 2019. That most pedestrian of flavors, Ready Salted, isn't far behind in the popularity polls, while Smith's Salt 'n' Shake crisps, also now part of the PepsiCo stable, are still enjoyed by millions of Brits, who find the quirk of seasoning their own crisps an enjoyable ritual. Neil Ridley, 'The Crisp Sommelier' author, explains: 'The bottom line is brands can premiumize crisps to their heart's content, but they're still a simple, affordable, fun-in-a-bag food that can operate at the highest echelons of society as well as the lowest. In short, they're truly ours, as a nation. 'The potato crisp intertwines our social and cultural backgrounds, our childhoods and how we approach our working lives too. It's a quick and easy way to travel around the world from flavor to flavor, it's shareable, it evokes feelings of nostalgia and it also satisfies us in so many more ways than simply filling us up.' Stephanie Herbert from Walkers agrees. 'Few nations have embraced the crisp quite like Britain,' she says. 'Crisps are woven into the fabric of everyday British life. 'In their own modest, distinctly British way, they're as iconic as any national dish.' Writer's note: This article doesn't touch on the wider definition of bagged British snacks, e.g. Skips, Scampi Fries, Frazzles, Chipsticks, Monster Munch. Although some readers might disagree, they're not strictly crisps.
CNN
17-07-2025
- Entertainment
- CNN
The greasy airbag of gratification that became Britain's national dish
Fried breakfast. Sunday lunch. Fish and chip supper. Any member of this holy triumvirate might qualify for the title of Britain's National Dish. Except that Britain's real signature plate isn't served on a plate at all, but from a metalized plastic bag. It doesn't sizzle or boil, but rustles and crunches — a greasy airbag of impetuous gratification, snacky saline satisfaction, and ultimately, empty calories. This is the story of the crisp — the wafer-thin sliced, deep-fried slivers of seasoned potato that continue to hook millions, and stole the hearts of a nation in more ways than one. Tune into BBC Radio 6 Music on a Sunday morning, and between tunes from CMAT and Radiohead, you may well hear the sound of someone nibbling on crisps. The presenters Marc Radcliffe and Stuart Maconie have not been caught off guard snacking between tracks however; 'Crisps on the Radio' is a long-running segment on their morning show, in which listeners mail in packets of crisps they've discovered from around the world, and Radcliffe and Maconie attempt to work out what flavor they're supposed to be. This whimsical use of airtime underscores Brits' unparalleled affinity with the crisp, a snack that is infinitely more than just a snack. Britons consume some 10 billion bags of crisps each year. On weekday lunchtimes, walls of crisps are raided from British supermarkets, as workers grab a bag as part of a 'meal deal.' Picnics in the park are considered piteous without the addition of a family-sized bag of crisps. Online commentators endlessly shuffle crisps into tiers of deliciousness, while stand-up comedians count the ways in which people finish off the crumbly remnants of their crisp packet. In 2022, Nigella Lawson, one of the country's most adored TV cooks, teamed up with Walkers — the nation's best-selling crisps brand — to create a recipe for the perfect crisp sandwich (ingredients: bread, butter, crisps). The next year, Kicks Bar and Grill in Hull, in the northeast of England inveigled customers through its doors with an all-you-can-eat crisp buffet. In her 2024 book 'Crunch: An Ode to Crisps,' Natalie Whittle writes: 'It is hard to escape the strange connective force of crisps in British life.' You might say the Brits have an unhealthy obsession with the crisp. But how did it get here in the first place? The answer is: it came from America. Sort of. It's an origin story worthy of Hollywood. The setting: Moon's Lake House restaurant in Saratoga Springs, New York, 1853. The main players: chef George Crum, and diner/railway tycoon/fussy eater Cornelius Vanderbilt. The tale goes that Vanderbilt demanded Crum cut his potatoes thinner… and thinner… and thinner. Crum eventually blew his top, shaved the potatoes passive-aggressively thin with a mandolin, and sent them back out to the customer in spite. Except that Vanderbilt loved these crackly scraps of salted spud, and thus 'Saratoga Chips' were born. It's likely this anecdote was bent into more pleasing shape over time — for one thing, Crum's sister Catherine Adkins Wicks always maintained she'd been the one manning the frying pan, not Crum — but it's true that someone at Moon's Lake House sliced those potatoes wafer thin, and it's also true that, before the century was out, industrious business folk like William Tappenden had pounced on the snack's potential as a store-sold item, not just a restaurant specialty. Any Brits in need of a lie down after hearing this distinctly un-British backstory, however, can breathe easy. Technically, the crisp had already been invented over in England; here, in 1817, the first known crisp recipe was published in William Kitchiner's 'The Cook's Oracle' as 'Potatoes fried in Slices or Shavings': 'Peel large potatoes; slice them about a quarter of an inch thick, or cut them in shavings round and round, as you would peel a lemon; dry them well in a clean cloth, and fry them in lard or dripping….' Kitchiner, who was born and died in London, is also known for whipping up the first-ever batch of Wow-Wow Sauce. The fact he was also a doctor may raise eyebrows now, given the crisp's dubious health implications. It may be that only a handful of Brits ever tried Kitchiner's crisp recipe anyway — but he does appear to have got there before anyone else, American or otherwise. And while commercially shrewd America had a headstart when it came to marketing the potato chip in the late 19th/early 20th century, Britain took up the baton full-heartedly in 1920, thanks to the entrepreneur Frank Smith, who converted two garages in the north London suburb of Cricklewood into the country's first crisp factory. Smith's real breakthrough though was a delightfully simple one. As pub landlords quickly grew annoyed that their customers were stealing salt shakers in order to season their slivers of fried potato, Smith introduced a twist of blue paper, each containing a pinch of salt, and added to every greaseproof bag. Now the British crisp was really cooking, and by the time the country was through with World War II, the market had grown hungrier than ever. Edinburgh's Golden Wonder and Sunderland's Tudor crisp companies arrived on the scene in 1947. The following year, Henry Walker, a butcher in the central English city of Leicester, pivoted his business to make hand-sliced crisps. That same company now produces over 11 million bags of crisps a day. But there was an elephant in the room. The crisp was relentlessly monotone. You could have any flavor, as long as it was salted/unsalted. Neither the Americans nor the Brits solved this particular issue. That was a job for Dublin-born Joe 'Spud' Murphy, who shunned a life in the priesthood ('To hell with this, we need one sinner in the family') and instead formed the Tayto crisp company, in 1954. Sick to the back teeth of plain crisps, Murphy made his first point of order to add a seasoning powder to his Taytos, namely Cheese and Onion. The people went for it, boosted by early marketing campaigns which advised these crisps were the ideal accompaniment to salads… and fried breakfasts. The Smith's salt sachet suddenly seemed altogether quaint. Golden Wonder copied Tayto with its own Cheese and Onion offering. Then, in 1967, Tudor (by now a subsidiary of Smith's) released the first Salt and Vinegar crisps, a tongue-tingling seasoning that remains a stalwart today. More riotous flavors followed, albeit still geared towards British/Irish palates: Pickled Onion, Lamb & Mint Sauce, Curry, Gammon & Pineapple. A 1981 episode of the BBC consumer TV show 'That's Life!' thrust unmarked bowls of crisps in front of unsuspecting members of the public, inviting them to guess the flavor (perhaps that's where 'Crisps on the Radio' got its idea from). 'It's not snake is it?' ventured one gentleman, chewing timidly on a prawn cocktail crisp. Crisp lovers were now tasting in Technicolor, and in the same year the 'That's Life!' episode aired, flavors really jumped the shark — in fact another animal altogether — thanks to Hedgehog-flavoured crisps, the barmy brainchild of pub landlord Phillip Lewis. Lewis was soon after forced to tweak the name to Hedgehog Flavour Crisps, because they did not in fact contain hedgehog, but he'd made his point: anything in the world of crisps was possible. In the 1980s the crisp became a staple of British life. The punk band Splodgenessabounds released 'Two Pints of Lager and a Packet of Crisps Please', a distorted paean to a common order down the local pub. Come the middle of the decade, Brits were splashing an extraordinary £805m (over a billion dollars) on crisps and snacks alone. Companies upped the ante with TV commercials. Walkers — by now pulling away from the competition — called in the big guns. The veteran English comedian Ronnie Barker asked viewers 'Don't you insist on Walkers crisps?'. What turned out to be the ultimate coup for Walkers, though, was a call-up for the England soccer striker Gary Lineker. Like Walkers, Lineker hailed from Leicester, and — putting a spin on his real-life clean-cut image — the sports star gamely moonlighted as a crisp-thieving bad lad. So began a beautiful friendship. During the 1990s Lineker played the hammy villain opposite A-listers like the Spice Girls, Bugs Bunny and his former England teammate Paul 'Gazza' Gascoigne. For a while, the brand's Salt and Vinegar crisps were even renamed 'Salt and Lineker.' Increasingly, kids became the target of these campaigns; not just thanks to an ever-swelling medley of flavors, but the promise of free Mega Fiddler toys and Star Wars Tazos slipped inside packets. Crisps now inhabited the same universe as football, pop music, movies and cartoons. They even became a fashion accessory; Natalie Whittle writes in 'Crunch: An Ode to Crisps' about how she'd shrink old crisp packets in the oven. These could then be used as things like earrings and key fobs. 'My memory is lots of children revelling in crisps just as much as I did,' writes Whittle. But a second kind of crisp had also taken wing, as the snack started to grow up. 'I haven't met anyone yet who has said they don't like crisps. I'm not sure I could ever truly trust someone who said they didn't!' says the drinks writer Neil Ridley. His 2024 book, 'The Crisp Sommelier,' pairs 185 different styles and flavors of crisp with various wines, beers, hard ciders and cocktails (a fine white Burgundy 'sits wonderfully,' Ridley recommends, with the light meatiness of a smoked ham crisp). 'As adults, we're supposed to abandon the flavors of our childhoods as we grow up and explore more sophisticated tastes and flavors,' says Ridley, 'So for me, 'The Crisp Sommelier' really taps into that fondness for nostalgic flavours and aligns it with the obviously more adult themes of alcohol pairing.' Ridley's book also taps into a concept of crisp elevation which was already underway 40-odd years ago. In 1988, Kettle Brand Chips — first established in Salem, Oregon — established an outpost in Norfolk, England, bringing a thicker-cut crisp made from organic potatoes and oil to the British market. The bag was bigger, too, encouraging a sense of the deluxe and communal — something to pour into bowls at social gatherings and have people pick at while sipping their aperitifs. 'I'm in heaven,' gushed a columnist for the Shields Daily Gazette local newspaper in 2001. 'Kettle Chips has launched its latest seasonal edition… Sour Cream, Lemon and Black Pepper is the flavoursome snack to die for. Our friends popped round for Sunday tea and the Kettle Chips proved a huge hit.' Crisps could now be aspirational for adults as well as kids, something to show off to friends and neighbors, like a new dress or television. Other 'posh' brands followed suit. Tyrells — flaunting a rustic farmyard provenance, and potatoes with names like Lady Rosetta and Lady Claire — came onto the scene in 2002. Walkers ran with the herd, launching its Sensations range in 2002. Literally branded as 'Posh crisps from Walkers,' these were initially promoted with the help of Victoria Beckham, aka Posh Spice, in a commercial which saw her famous soccer-playing husband being switched out for, you guessed it, Gary Lineker. In 2025, the quest for the perfect crisp continues. While this year's Edinburgh Festival Fringe performance arts event includes a show about exactly that, current crisp trends include Slabs, comically chunky discs of potato that rail against the innate thinness of the crisp, come in flavors including Pan-Fried Egg, and can be sourced at trendy pubs like the Shirker's Rest in New Cross, South London — where they encourage you to dunk it in another British culinary obsession: brown sauce. Meanwhile, harking back to crisps' restaurant origins, Liverpool's critically-acclaimed eatery Manifest has been praised for its 'still warm' salt and vinegar crisps starter — perhaps not a million miles from the ones Cornelius Vanderbilt fell in love with back in 1853. Long derided as a (literally) pale imitation of the British crisp, some European offerings have now caught the attention of Brits too. Torres crisps, made near Barcelona in Spain, come in flavors including Iberian Ham, and Extra Virgin Olive Oil, and have almost become a form of British tapas for the languorous middle classes. Well-founded concerns around the health implications of a nation hooked on crisps (in 2006 the British Heart Foundation ran an infamous campaign showing a young girl chugging a bottle of cooking oil) mean that many healthier options are now on the table too, including crisps that are baked or roasted, rather than fried. Ingredients like root vegetables, lentils and chickpeas are increasingly used in place of the potato, though most crisp eaters would suggest that's an entirely different taxonomy of snack altogether. No one's thrown in the towel on unearthing the next big flavor, no matter how abnormal that might turn out to be; a glance at Museum of Crisps' preposterous list reveals a litany of Wonka-esque freaks: Candy Cane, Gin & Tonic, Rose Petal, Pumpkin Pie. Walkers alone has 125 flavors on British shelves at any one time, while its boffins toil away in 'crisp test kitchens,' dreaming up more. Walkers fans pitch new flavor ideas to the company every single day. And yet, the truth is, the best crisp flavors were discovered a long time ago. Cheese and Onion remains the most popular flavor of both Walkers and Tayto, despite being the first one ever trialed, almost 70 years ago. 'These humble flavours have really stood the test of time,' says Stephanie Herbert, head of marketing at Walkers. When it comes to upmarket crisps, the classic flavors win out too. 'Lye Cross Cheddar & Onion, Anglesey Sea Salt, and Burrow Hill Cider Vinegar are the top picks,' says Herbert, of the Pipers range, which Walkers owners PepsiCo bought out in 2019. That most pedestrian of flavors, Ready Salted, isn't far behind in the popularity polls, while Smith's Salt 'n' Shake crisps, also now part of the PepsiCo stable, are still enjoyed by millions of Brits, who find the quirk of seasoning their own crisps an enjoyable ritual. Neil Ridley, 'The Crisp Sommelier' author, explains: 'The bottom line is brands can premiumize crisps to their heart's content, but they're still a simple, affordable, fun-in-a-bag food that can operate at the highest echelons of society as well as the lowest. In short, they're truly ours, as a nation. 'The potato crisp intertwines our social and cultural backgrounds, our childhoods and how we approach our working lives too. It's a quick and easy way to travel around the world from flavor to flavor, it's shareable, it evokes feelings of nostalgia and it also satisfies us in so many more ways than simply filling us up.' Stephanie Herbert from Walkers agrees. 'Few nations have embraced the crisp quite like Britain,' she says. 'Crisps are woven into the fabric of everyday British life. 'In their own modest, distinctly British way, they're as iconic as any national dish.' Writer's note: This article doesn't touch on the wider definition of bagged British snacks, e.g. Skips, Scampi Fries, Frazzles, Chipsticks, Monster Munch. Although some readers might disagree, they're not strictly crisps.
The Sun
15-07-2025
- Business
- The Sun
New Quavers flavour that's ‘better than original' is finally spotted on UK supermarket shelves for first time in 3 years
HOME Bargains shoppers have finally spotted a new Quavers flavour on shelves that has been branded "better than the original". It is the first new flavour of the tasty snack in three years. 1 The new Red Leicester-flavoured treat is also currently available in B&M and Heron Foods. Social media users have been crunching the numbers on Facebook, with one posting: "Multi-pack £2.10 in B&M." Another added: "I bought the 6 pack today £1.79 from Heron", while one user stated the snack was available for £1.50 in Home Bargains. The comments prompted one person to post: "I really need to try these." Tesco shoppers will be able to get their hands on the new Red Leicester Quaver flavour from the end of July. Better yet, other major supermarkets are due to stock the delight from September, giving shoppers just a few weeks to wait. A single-serve bag costs £1.35 as well as being available as a grab bag and multipack. The crisps join fan favourites such as Cheese, Prawn Cocktail, and BBQ Sauce. And it is not the only new crisp flavour that Walkers has brought back. Fans were delighted when Tomato Ketchup crisps were spotted on shelves after going missing for the past two years. They were also accompanied by multipacks of the Worcester Sauce flavoured crisps - which were originally brought back exclusively to a single store in Worcester. Elsewhere, Discos, owned by KP Snacks, is bringing back its beloved pickled onion flavour after it was last seen on shelves in 2005. The tangy snack will be sold in convenience stores across the UK from August 27, giving punters just a matter of weeks before they're reunited with the flavour. Customers can expect to pay £1.35 for a 70g bag when they land in shops. It will be good news for fans of the savoury delight, many of whom have been begging the British manufacturer to bring the product back. In 2022, one passionate customer went as far as launching a petition. More returning products White chocolate Maltesers made a grand return to shelves earlier this year after a 10-year hiatus. A 30g bag is currently available to buy in Morrisons for £1.05, while a larger 74g pouch costs £1.75. Elsewhere, Opal Fruits, which were rebranded as Starburst in 1998, will now be available across major UK retailers. Customers will be able to purchase the treats from Sainsbury's, Tesco, and Morrisons stores for shoppers to enjoy a taste of nostalgia. Aldi also said it would bring back its "addictive" .
