Each time I crunch down on a potato chip, I think of mother.
Mother and her beloved potato chips. No, no, Mom never made potato chips, she just adored them.
(Mom and my gram, mom's mom, did make outrageous fish and chips, however, and that's a story for telling another time.)
Divinely simple, the potato chip is an American invention. History seems sure of itself in saying that one George Crum, then chef at a high-end resort in New York, Saratoga Springs in fact, invented the potato chip in 1853. Crum grew irritated with a paying dinner guest who griped about his french fries being too thick. Chefs can be a testy lot, so Crum decided to make a fry so thin that his unhappy diner would surely walk out in a snit. No snit. No walking out. It was love at first crispy bite.
Do I speak for all when I say we understand why?
Potato, oil, salt. In the basic form, that is it. Sure, we Americans can never leave well enough alone, so over the century plus since Crum's insolence changed the snack world, maybe even created the snack world, we've tinkered and toyed with that which might be close to perfection.
That whole "I was born on a diet..." thing is always over there in the shadows, so I need to make the disclaimer that, should I eat seventeen potato chips a week, that's pushing the limit. Since so few are consumed, each bite assumes greater and greater importance. Savor, I do believe, would be the best word. Linger is another good word. The potato chip is to be lingered over while being savored. Such is the potato chip's appeal, nay, its near euphoric delight, that it must be slowly and deliberately enjoyed.
Or, if you're skinny, you can plow them down by the handfuls several times a day.
Mom spoke often of her love for the potato chip, going so far as to declare that should things
deteriorate to where there might be one food left on the planet, her fondest wish was that it be the potato chip. That about covers it, don't you think? She never mentioned brand or style.You could make mine Herr's Sour Cream and Onion Ripples.
