Turbos Flamas - Harbinger of My Destruction

I'm not that into chips in general. It's not that I'm not a snacky person, but when I'm craving something to munch on, chips are not my first choice. There are exceptions, of course. Tortilla chips with salsa or guacamole are great now and then. And I enjoy the occasional salt and vinegar kettle chip or those barbecue twist Fritos. But generally a bag of chips sitting near me isn't a huge temptation.

But my prodigious waistline and I have found a way. The exception that overrules all other exceptions.

Ladies and gentlemen, I bring you Turbos Flamas by Sabritas.

Sabritas was a potato chip company founded in Mexico in the '40s, but Pepsico bought it in the '60s and it's now the Mexican brand and distributor of all Frito-Lay products. Those of us in states bordering Mexico can also find some of their products next to the Lay's in the chip aisle. And that's just where I found Turbos Flamas.

I was first drawn to them by their physical resemblance to the aforementioned Frito Honey BBQ Flavor Twists, the texture of which I really like. The rotini-like shape led my wife and I to call them "noodle chips". They have a finer grind than tortilla chips or regular Fritos, but still not so fine that they just go to mush in your mouth. And while I'm not generally in love with chili/lime everything, the hyperbolic promise of high levels of heat made me think I should at least try Turbos Flamas once. And then I tried them, like, a hundred times.

These crunchy little cornmeal twists covered in a chili-lime flavored red powder are a real weakness for me. In fact, the only thing that keeps me from inhaling whole bags in one sitting is the sheer intensity of flavor. The heat alone is not enough to dissuade me, although it does build up nicely as you eat them. But along with the spicy heat is a tart, tangy lime flavor that escalates alongside it, the combo of the two eventually making it feel as though if you don't stop eating them, you'll be whistling through holes in both cheeks.

And it's so good. It's so intense. This is a snack with absolutely zero subtlety.

And by the time you've cried "uncle" your fingers are coated in a thick layer of radioactive magenta dust. Ungodly red swirls around the drain when you wash your hands afterward in an unintentional tribute to Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho.