There are so many things I've eaten or read about that I didn't get around to blabbing about on Serious Eats this year. Hey—I only have four eyes and two hands! So forthwith, posthaste, and ex post facto, here's a tasty tidbit that has been languishing in draft for much of 2008.
The scene: Late 1970s, Lancaster, Pennsylvania. My family's Buick Riviera sits in my aunt's driveway, engine ticking as it cools from a 20-hour drive from Kansas City. My cousin Dan whips down the driveway on his Green Machine to greet us. We grab the last of the Pepsis from the travel cooler, dump the water and what's left of the ice from it, and head inside.
The Kuban family has barely said its hellos and how do you dos before my dad asks my aunt, "Did you get me my Gibbles?"
These chips have long been his post-travel treat when he gets to Pennsylvania, and I never really understood it until a mini family reunion this summer.
What makes them so good? Read the bag back (after the jump) and weep (tears of joy).
Porky tears of joy, that is.
After trying Gibbles as an adult, I understood yet another thing that made the old man tick. And Gibbles are now some of my favorite potato chips, too. Though I'm still partial to Tim's Cascade, which I can't get where I live, and Dirty chips, which I can.
How 'bout you: What are your favorite potato chips?
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