pastry chefs crave two things: Salt and vinegar. When I worked in
the restaurant business and got home way after midnight, too-often I’d
park myself in front of the television, put my dogs up, and dig into a
bag of tortilla chips along with a big jar of spicy salsa. Of course, I
was half the age I am now and a bag of chips is no longer something I
can, or should, polish off by myself – or call a meal. Someone I knew
worked for one of those national diet centers and on day #1, he would
put a bag of potato chips into a food processor, run it for a few
minutes, then show everyone the oily sludge.
I still eat potato chips on occasion and run into trouble stopping
myself from picking my way through a basket of tortilla chips,
especially when there’s guacamole
alongside. And I will buy those slender pretzel sticks, called sticks d’Alsace in
France, to go along with other apéritif hour snacks in Paris.