My friend Chyn is obsessed. Seriously obsessed. I do like a potato chip now and then - especially if I am able to plunk a bit of creme fraiche, caviar, and snipped chives atop - but Chyn is the Queen of the Chips.
She cannot resist a new flavor, texture, or brand.
I took her to Shelsky's for a smoked fish fiesta, and although she was enchanted by her first bialy and downed two different sorts of herring, it was their selection of potato chips that had her swooning. All three pictured above were purchased - Iberian ham, black truffle, and caviar. Then she bought a different brand's white truffle chips to round things out.
The other night, walking home after being mightily stuffed on brilliant Thai food at Brooklyn's Ugly Baby, she stopped short when she spied some Korean BBQ-flavored potato chips in a bodega. It took some persuading to get her to agree to keep moving and not buy a bag.
Right now, Chyn is somewhere in deepest darkest Montreal. I imagine she has a bag of foie gras-flavored potato chips by her side. Or maybe they are poutine-flavored. Then again, perhaps they are smoked meat-flavored.
Any which way, I am sure she's happy. Or should I say chipper?