Like life before the mobile phone or internet, it is hard to imagine how we lived before tortilla chips. Tell kids today that, at one time, pickled onion Monster Munch or Wotsits were Britain’s most glamorous snacks and they will laugh in your face; their breath ripe with vividly orange, nacho-cheese-type flavourings.
For those born after 1994, the year in which Walkers introduced Doritos to the UK, this is just how the world of bagged savoury snacks is. It is a £3.2bn-a-year industry of ever accelerating creativity (lentil crisps! dehydrated kale dippers! “popped” chips!), with the maize-based, vaguely Mexican tortilla chip in the vanguard of this crumb-spattered revolution. We should, perhaps, pedantically call them corn chips – it is decades since what we call tortilla chips were actually made from sliced tortillas, as when they were first popularised in 1940s Los Angeles – but whatever name you choose, this market is booming.
In recent years, many established crisp brands (Kettle, Tyrrells, Pringles) and upmarket newcomers, such as Manomasa, have tried to muscle in on Doritos’ patch. The supermarkets haven’t slept on it, either. But can any of their own-brand tortilla chips match the sensational intensity of Doritos’ “tangy cheese” flavour? Are they strong enough to stand their ground in a chip ’n’ dip situation? Which are hard shells of snappy pleasure and which turn to dust in your mouth?
Morrisons, nacho cheese tortilla chips, 79p, 200g
The russet, Aztec-pattern-inspired packaging (it would make a lovely rug or decorative wall-hanging) suggests that Morrisons is going for a more mature, foodie market with its chips – hinting at a historic authenticity for this product that, of course, it cannot claim. There is certainly nothing Mexican about Morrisons’ cheese flavouring, which brings to mind the light, bright concentrated cheesiness of Quavers. Not bad, but a bit juvenile. The chips have a good clean snap to them and a certain solidity. They feel like heavy-duty dippers that could hold their own with cream cheese.
5/10
Aldi, Snackrite tortilla nacho cheese chips, 62p, 200g
You know those sunny, marshmallow-brained folk who dot their Is with love hearts and smiley faces? There is a bit of that going on, here. On the packet, the word “tortilla” has been topped with a cheeky sombrero, when Snackrite’s time would have been better spent concentrating on getting more flavour into its chips. There is cheese there, but it is dialled down, they taste way too salty and, at times, there is something of an acrid backdraft as you chew – from, presumably, too much garlic or onion powder. They are crisp enough, but feel a little flakily insubstantial in the mouth.
3/10
Tesco, nacho cheese tortilla chips, 95p, 200g
The first lesson here is, check the weight. Otherwise, when you open the baggy, outsize packet (wider and taller than several of its 200g competitors), you may wonder where all your crisps have gone. That said, Tesco has clearly spent a lot of time trying to mimic Doritos’ “tangy cheese” and, while it hasn’t quite nailed it, this is a creditable effort. Most supermarket chips are eerily pale, but these get close to the correct deep orange hue, while delivering a savoury, umami punch and fringe lactic twang reminiscent of Doritos. Ultimately though, Tesco cannot replicate the original’s depth of flavour.
7/10
Co-op, Loved By Us nacho cheese tortilla chips, £1.09, 200g
These taste like they were created by someone who has never tasted Doritos. Someone who has had the concept of “nacho cheese tortilla chips” explained to them third-hand via the medium of Russian prison slang and interpretive dance. Bizarrely, the Co-op appears to be under the impression that people actually want that slightly plasticky, sweetly musty flavour of cooked corn from a tortilla chip. Thoughtfully, they have dampened down the cheese dusting, to let that corniness shine through. On the upside, these would not skew the flavour of any accompanying dip, but that is hardly the point.
1/10
Sainsbury’s, tangy cheese flavour tortillas, £1.10, 200g
Look at Sainsbury’s, eh? Swaggering in here with loose, loudmouthed talk of “tangy cheese”, throwing the gauntlet down to the big D as if they have, somehow, cracked the secret Doritos code. Evidently, they have not. You can smell it as soon as you open the packet. With Doritos, the first whiff is deep and primeval, musky almost, whereas these smell rather cheaply cheesy. The flavour is equally obvious and short-lived, somewhere on the taste spectrum between cheese and onion and Wotsits.
5/10
Asda, Chosen By You nacho cheese flavour tortilla chips, 85p, 200g
Had someone been playing football with the bag en-route? There was certainly an unusually large amount of broken bits in there, despite the relative sturdiness of the chips. In fairness, using Asda’s tortilla chips in an impromptu game of headers ’n’ volleys would certainly be more fun than eating them. You get the odd erratic chip that delivers a harsh, fleeting unbalanced blast of concentrated onion powder and “nacho cheese flavour”, but, generally, these taste very bland. After a few seconds, you are chewing on what feels like a wad of paper that tastes vaguely of toasted corn. Keepy-uppys, anyone?
2/10
Waitrose, Essential nacho cheese flavour tortilla chips, £1.10, 200g
If you ever need proof that tortilla chips have established themselves at the heart of British life, here is exhibit A, the fact that Waitrose now deems them “essential”. Whether Britain’s swankiest supermarket understands something as déclassé as the Dorito is a moot point. Its homage to the proprietary No1 is, like Tesco’s, almost the right shade of orange, but the flavour is way off. There is a dominant roasted savoury note in there and a certain vinegary sharpness, but these chips are too sweet and not demonstrably cheesy. Waitrose has identified the building blocks of Dorito’s flavour profile, but it has no idea how to fit them together.
3/10
