Roast chicken is the flavour people choose when they don’t want to choose. It’s the abstention vote of the crisp world. And Walkers’ version is so mild, so gentle, so utterly devoid of character that it barely qualifies as a choice at all.
There’s chicken. Allegedly. A savoury note that could be poultry or could be general meatiness or could be your imagination filling in gaps the crisp left empty. The “roast” element is theoretical, no char, no herbs, no suggestion that heat was ever applied to anything.
These crisps taste like the colour beige sounds. They’re the background noise of snacking, present without being noticed, consumed without being experienced.
The thin texture provides no compensation. You’re eating air and mild flavouring, and then you’ve finished, and you feel nothing about it.
For people who find other flavours “too much.” For nobody else.
