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Over the holidays, I spent time in France, an area that appeared displaying impeccable manners. Elegant, shimmering illuminations, village market booths overflowing with exquisitely fresh fruits and veggies, and enough cheeses to coat every mile of the Chunnel with cholesterol. Piled platters of shimmering crustaceans on ice visible behind fogged brasserie windows. As I watched a long but orderly procession of elegant residents retrieving their artisanal *Bûche de Noël*, I thought, disloyally, that my native city, York, which becomes a present-day version of Hogarth’s Gin Lane at this time of year complete with vape pens in festive pie flavours and BuzzBallz, might benefit from a few lessons.

A Refined Veneer

But this entire “art de vivre” stuff is just an elegant facade – The nation is as prey to its most primal cravings like any other place. Just go into a supermarket to witness it. The snack food corridor constitutes a temple of indulgence, lined with the likes of *bleu d'Auvergne*, spiced bean patty, *carbonade flamande* and savory dairy fat tastes. What kind of person consumes chips that taste of butter? It’s like something from those infamous midway festivals where they submerge butter patties in hot oil. An entertainer has asserted they represent the pinnacle of snacking she has ever sampled, but she’s obviously been influenced by a form of regional conditioning – her formative years were in that very region.

International Unregulation

I know the crisp flavouring industry worldwide is as lawless and unregulated as Silicon Valley. There is a refusal to let potato be potato, enhanced only as necessary with just a dignified dusting of salt. The UK boasts a dubious legacy when it comes to snack tastes on British soil, especially at this time of year. The year 2025, it should be remembered, gave us gingerbread Doritos and special-release pastry-and-meat potato snacks. And who could forget the instance where a famous high-street chain thought “sparkling wine and seasonal fruit” constituted a desirable taste on a potato chip? I expected more from the nation of culinary masters.

Where does it end? Foie gras crisps? Profiterole? Tobacco-flavoured chips? It's best I halt, lest I provide inspiration.