Sunday evening in a college dorm means growling stomachs. Five or six hours from the last dregs of dinner consumed and after fifty pages of reading, six pages of paper writing, or a few problem sets, we want a reward. So off we go in the car to 7/11. Not necessarily the premiere of culinary needs, but for some cheap thrills (emphasis on the cheap) the fluorescent, sticky aisles of colorfully packaged sweets and glorified junk food piques ones interest. Then this catches my eye:Pickle.
Pringles.
As a New York Jew, something about this offends me, but it takes a while for the unsettling feeling to settle in. I'm already skeptical about pickles found outside a proper deli, but this takes the cake. Lets break it down into flavor. Sure the chip may taste vaguely of pickle, but what about the sour twinge on the tongue? The juicy flavors rolling down your chin? I'll give the Pringles the benefit of the crunch. There's nothing more satisfying than a good juicy, crunchy pickle, and Pringles crunch better than any other chip. Still, there is a feeling of utter blasphemy about this neon green EXTREME pickle Pringle tube.
You might not be able to get these for long. Pringles was just sold, after 50 years: http://www.nytimes.com/2011/04/06/business/06pringles.html. Who knows what the new owner will do with such precious recipes?
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