Anyway, for some reason, maybe nothing more than the irrationality of childhood, I’d assumed for years that I wouldn’t like marmalade and when I finally plucked up the courage to try it, I eagerly reaffirmed my infantile prejudices.
Oh look, Ben's been out drinking again
More manky memories
The heat sneaks up on you like some demented, spicy stalker, and you'll have no idea just how hot they are until you're half-way through the bag.
With a marketing hat on, I don't particularly like the 'Soffle' name, because it sounds like a portmanteau of 'soft' and 'waffle', which doesn't seem quite right for a snack that is drier than the bones of the children of Dunblane.
(Admittedly, it would probably be a lot worse if they used 'drier than the bones of the children of Dunblane' as an advertising slogan though, so I'll shut up about it!)
The list of ingredients is admirably concise and all-natural, and, as snacks in pubs go, they’re probably on the healthier side, what with being oven-baked’n’shit. Though one of the reasons they grew on me so quickly is likely to be the quantity of olive oil and salt involved in baking them. High in carbs, obviously, if you care about that sort of thing.
I've tried a third variety, 'Rosemary and Thyme', though these flavours seem to be in addition to, rather than instead of, the chilli and garlic, and it's nice to find stalky bits of Rosemary amongst the burnt garlic. It's hard to resist putting your finger back into the bag long after the chips have been eaten. Like a herby sherbet dib-dab.
Sophie tells me she is about to go 'on the road' in a pitta chip truck, and if it turns up at a beer festival, she'll sell out in a matter of minutes. Bags of Soffles will be changing hands on the black market for hundreds of pence.
It might not be the catchiest name ever, and your teeth might cry ‘what the brittle fuck?!?’ when you first bite into them, but just give them a few minutes. You and your beer will have a new best friend.