Snack Review: Fruit Leather from Stretch Island Fruit Co.

Have you ever wondered what Spam would taste like if it were made of fruit instead of pork shoulder? Neither had I, until I bit into Stretch Island Fruit Co’s “Fruit Leather,” a kind of Fruit-Roll-Up for (strong stomached) adults.

At 50 cents a pop, these iPod-sized fruit snacks were an impulse buy. Behaving like the easily distracted five-year-old I am, I couldn’t resist their colorful packaging, with its drawings of mangoes and strawberries dancing to what I imagined was kickin’ reggae beat. Needless to say, that tropical vibe had me at hello, and I exited the store confident in my cheap summer purchase.

But oh, how the tide changed when I tore open those pretty packages. Glistening like the US Army’s finest canned meat, Fruit Leather’s resemblance to processed ham was apparent immediately.

To give you a clearer mental picture of what they look like, imagine the sweaty face of an over-tan socialite as she sits on Miami Beach, thumbing through a copy of US Weekly. After weathering years of cigarette smoke and harsh UV rays, her skin has acquired a bumpy, pockmarked quality, which is slightly obscured by the layer of coconut oil covering her cheeks. These snacks resemble those cheeks exactly. Imagine a dermatologist’s nightmare and you’ve imagined Fruit Leather.

Read more

Review: BumbleBee’s Spicy Thai Tuna Medley

Deserved or not, canned snacks have a pretty gut-churning reputation.

Just visualize poking your index finger through a metal ring and pealing back the lid of an aluminum can - what food do you see jiggling before you?

Is it anchovies, lined up in a row like soldiers in a trench, their shiny black eyes staring into an unknowable abyss? Or is it Spam, the reigning king of gelatinous meat products - a food so simultaneously revolting and alluring that I felt compelled to write about it TWICE this week? Or hey, maybe you’ve just imagined cat food, since that recent inheritance wasn’t quite what you’d been hoping for. (I guess you should’ve sent Grandpa Pete better birthday cards, huh?)

Incidentally, cat food is probably the first thing you’ll think of when you see an open can of BumbleBee’s Tuna Medley. BUT WAIT, KEEP READING! ‘Cause actually, they’re kind of good.

Read more

Snack Review: Seneca’s Crispy Cinnamon Apple Chips

Let me share something with you guys – I’m from the Berkshires, a tree-covered cow oasis at the edge of the demented rectangle that is Massachusetts (think “opposite of Cape Cod,” and you’re there). Where I grew up, old paper mills perch atop snow-covered foothills, cows bellow loudly at the rising sun, and restless teenagers throw loud, vodka-fueled house parties in an effort to quell their epic boredom. Basically, it’s like any other American suburb, but with fewer Republicans and more fresh air.

As far as I can tell, our economy sustains itself on two main exports: 1) Rustic New England Charm, which we serve by the bucketful to middle-age tourists from New York. And 2), apples.

Yes, round, glistening apples. In the Berkshires, apple orchards are as plentiful as Priuses blasting NPR. They inspire a love that other towns reserve for their high school football teams, or local dogs who save their owners by dialing 911 with their snouts. We even hold a three-day festival called the “Apple Squeeze,” which features more apple fritters than should be legally allowed within a four block radius.

What I’m trying to say with this extended introduction, is that when I placed one of Seneca’s Crispy Apple Chips in my mouth, I had a Proustian experience that transported me straight back to one of those Berkshire orchards. Seneca claims to use “fresh apples” in their products, and honestly, I have to believe them. Eating one of their Crispy Apple Chips felt like biting into a Macintosh plucked straight from the tree - and I’m fully aware of how schlocky that sounds.

Read more

Snack Review: Quaker Granola Bites - A Mixed Bag

I’ve always been ambivalent about bite-size calorie bags. On the one hand, I like them for telling me it’s healthy to eat small portions of nutritionally bankrupt foods. Even if I’m downing a pouch of carb nuggets, I can justify my transgression by glancing at the number on the bag. Why, it’s only 90 calories! This is so healthy, I’m practically working out!

On the other hand, however, their portions sizes are frequently way too small. Believing you’ll be satisfied after one microscopic pouch is the culinary equivalent of chasing windmills – it’s hopelessly idealistic, so you might as well season that donkey you’re riding and settle down for dinner.

Such was the dilemma I faced while tearing into a bag of Quaker’s chocolate-flavored Granola Bites. Could a low calorie snack be high in satisfaction? I doubted it, but as a fan of their regular granola bars, I figured Quaker’s mini-bites were a relatively safe bet. What could go wrong with chocolate and granola?

Read more

Snack Review: Terra Sweet Potato Chips

Nothing quickens my pulse quite like the sight of sweet potato fries on a restaurant’s menu. They are, by far, one of my favorite side dishes, and stumbling upon them is like finding a large, gift-wrapped package with my name on the tag. When sweet potatoes show up, an ordinary evening is suddenly transformed into Christmas morning circa 1995 (when the anticipation was still near seizure-inducing), and I have to fight the urge to burst into the kitchen and high-five the chef.

This means that when I discovered Terra’s Sweet Potato Chips in the organic aisle of my local grocery store, I was physically unable to pass them up. The photo on the package featured a blissful pile of golden circles, and I knew I had to try them. “Screw this amber waves of grain nonsense,” I thought, as I hurled the bag into my shopping cart. “Real patriots eat amber waves of sweet potatoes.”
Read more