Potato crisps and the British character

Pickled fish. Lemon tea. Cucumber. Doner kebab. Stewed beef noodles. Salted egg. Soft shell crab. Coney island mustard. Smoked gouda. Hamburger seasoning. Honey butter. Roasted garlic oyster. Spicy crayfish. Finger-licking braised pork. Sesame sauce hotpot. Rose petal. Numb and spicy hotpot. Roasted fish. Blueberry.

The world of crisps has changed almost unrecognisably since the snack was first commercially produced in the early 20th century. Now the possibilities are enough to make the head spin. In Crunch, Natalie Whittle takes us on a whistlestop tour of the flavours we can now find across the world. The mind-boggling list gives an idea of the scope of this seemingly simple snack that goes far beyond the humble cheese and onion.

Whittle, a writer and editor at the Financial Times, whose previous book examined the idea of the 15-minute city, has chosen a subject that may initially seem unworthy. But by giving this ‘supremely ordinary’ snack space and attention, she reveals as much about us as crisp-eaters as about the product itself. The book, she explains is

an attempt to understand what I was oblivious to as a child: that crisps are a complicated novelty. And I am interested in the way crisps are an activated product – that they need crisp-eaters to create the crunch, otherwise they would not be crisp at all: they would be unheard, uncrunched.

Her personality suffuses Crunch, as she draws on her memories and formative experiences in truly charming vignettes.

She is an aficionado in the true sense, and it is her passion for crisps that provides the book’s energy. She readily and unapologetically admits to being obsessed, and her descriptions of sensory pleasures are deliciously moreish. Indeed her enthusiasm is so infectious that it feels like heresy to read the book without a bag of your own crisps handy (I found myself hoping she’d approve of my choice of roast beef Monster Munch).