McCoy’s gets it.
Salt and vinegar needs structure. The acidic seasoning demands a crisp that can hold it, deliver it, survive it. Thin crisps go soggy. Thin crisps collapse. Thin crisps let vinegar win the wrong kind of battle. McCoy’s thick-cut ridges fight back.
The vinegar here is properly aggressive. Face-scrunching, lip-stinging, committed to the cause. This isn’t Walkers’ apologetic hint of sourness. This is vinegar that means it, applied generously to ridges deep enough to hold a proper payload.
And the malt specification matters. Malt vinegar has depth that other vinegars lack. That slightly sweet, fermented complexity that makes chip shop vinegar different from salad dressing vinegar. McCoy’s captures this, delivering British vinegar for British crisps.
The crunch situation
These crisps fight back when you bite them. There’s resistance. There’s snap. There’s the satisfaction of teeth meeting something substantial rather than crushing through flavoured air. The ridges create texture variation, multiple breaking points, a more interesting eating experience than flat crisps provide.
The verdict
If you want salt and vinegar crisps that actually taste of salt and vinegar, McCoy’s is the answer. One of the best versions of this flavour on the market.
Proof that format matters as much as seasoning.
