Salt and vinegar is a flavour that should be aggressive. It should make faces scrunch and lips sting. It’s a flavour with opinions, with attitude, with consequences.
Pringles Salt & Vinegar has none of these qualities.
The vinegar is present in the way that lift music is present. You’re aware of it if you concentrate. It registers as “salt and vinegar flavour” without delivering salt and vinegar experience. Everything is muted, controlled, engineered for maximum inoffensiveness.
The uniform Pringles texture doesn’t help. Real salt and vinegar crisps have variation. Some are more coated than others. Some are crunchier. The inconsistency creates interest. Pringles’ perfect consistency creates monotony. Every chip identical, every bite the same, the eating experience as repetitive as factory production.
After ten Pringles, you’ve had the complete salt and vinegar experience this tube offers. After twenty, you’re just repeating. After the whole tube, you’ve eaten a lot of something without feeling like you’ve eaten anything.
There are worse salt and vinegar products. There are no more boring ones.
