Mint. Choc. Pringles? Really? Hmmm…. well here we go…. wish me luck.

You’ll find two versions of this review- the long and short version. For those who are pressed for time, please scroll to the bottom.

1. The long version:

We’ve all been there. Stood up again. Home alone, crying over a bottle of wine. And we reach for that dreaded can of Pringles, not quite a crisp, not quite …erm… not a crisp. And before we know it, the can is empty and you’re hoovering the remaining crumbs off your sofa and yourself. (What do you mean you have no idea what i’m talking about? So it’s just me then? Oh).

Well thanks to intrepid adventurer and cider drinker Tourguide Ted, a can of Mint Choc Pringles has entered my life.


As you can see, Bogdan the meerkat didn’t take the news too well. We revived him by shouting “Simples” lots.

Now how to describe the flavour? Well it’s a real challenge. I’d imagine people eating weird products, such as tv chef and professional spectacle wearer Heston Blumenthal’s bacon and egg ice cream, would feel a similar taste and visual sense conflict. You bite in expecting savoury saltiness, but end up with minty saltiness on your palete instead. And no hint of the chocolate flavour whatsoever. I’m not sure what market Pringles was going for here, but it just doesn’t work. On any level.Β SCORE: ZERO PIGEONS OUT OF FIVE

2. The short version:

No. Just no.



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