I can eat chips of almost any kind. I’ve really been enjoying things like kale chips lately, as well as parsnip chips too. But while these are all good, nothing really compares to the potato chip. In terms of flavor, in terms of crunch, and in terms of overall satisfaction. I do try to limit my intake of white potatoes as much as possible, but every so often, it’s worth giving in and enjoying the real thing.
Read Jenny’s post below on her Lard-fried Potato Chips and know that you will be getting one of the tastiest and healthiest potato chips that you could possibly get. She’s not alone on her views on a diet high in fat — it’s a growing movement that deserves a lot of attention as it seems to make a lot of sense. I’ll take things like butter and lard over their modern counterparts (cottonseed, soybean, and canola oil) any day.
Homemade potato chips find their way to our kitchen only very rarely, but what a heavenly indulgence when they do appear. You see, I’m a potato chip addict. I may blend a killer kombucha, spend my afternoons brewing water kefir and culturing raw milk yogurt, but it’s the humble potato chip: salty, crunchy and wonderfully greasy that will always have my heart.
I take after my mother that way. That woman never met a potato chip she didn’t like, and in the summer on the tiny island where I grew up we’d file into a rusted out banana-yellow sleeper van and ride from the air base to the beach at the other side of the island. And while I’d muster all the grade-school patience I could, that drive seemed an eternity though the island, tip-to-tip, was only seventy miles long. Those were the long days of summer, hazy and hot and wet. We’d spend hours in the water only to come to shore and eat peanut butter sandwiches gritty with coral sand. At night time, we’d stay up late playing Shanghai Rummy eating potato chips slathered in French onion dip. For me, the humble potato chip evokes these memories so strongly that in one bite, I can remember the darkened bungalos at the beach, the briney smell of the sea and the rhythmic washing of the waves as they crashed upon the shore just outside our room…”