Wotsits: Cheese

Let’s not pretend Wotsits are a crisp in the traditional sense. They’re not potatoes, they don’t crunch, and they leave your fingers looking like you’ve done battle with a cheese dust tornado. But they are beloved — and rightly so.

Texture and structure

Wotsits aren’t crisps. They’re snacks. Corn-based puffs of cheesy air, coated in orange residue that defies physics. They’re soft — not in a limp way, but in that melt-on-the-tongue, dissolve-in-the-gums way that children and nostalgic adults both adore. There’s no sharp bite or clean snap. Instead, it’s like eating a cloud that went through a cheddar storm.

That softness can be divisive. If you grew up on crisps that fight back, Wotsits may seem underpowered. But give them a moment, and they deliver something far rarer — tactile indulgence. It’s sensory, it’s messy, it’s pure snack theatre.

Flavour profile

Despite the name, “classic cheese” doesn’t really taste like any known cheese. But that’s not a criticism — it’s Wotsit Cheese. Its own category. A blend of tangy, slightly sweet, and just enough umami to keep you reaching back into the bag.

It’s not just flavour, though. It’s memory. The smell as you open the packet, the orange fingerprints on every surface, the faint burn if you eat too many — Wotsits are a cultural artefact as much as a snack.

Portion and practicality

Wotsits are typically sold in 16.5g multipack bags, which sounds stingy — until you realise a full 100g of Wotsits would be enough to fill a pudding bowl. They’re puffed, not packed. Light but strangely filling.

They’re not travel friendly. Not unless you enjoy licking your own hands in public or smearing cheese dust on the steering wheel.

But in the right setting — sofa, telly, maybe a nap imminent — they shine.

Nutritional information (per 100g)