Meanwhile...South of the Border...First in a Series

Ah, beautiful Puerto Vallarta, a sun and pleasure paradise, where the Speedo is still the bathing suit of choice, worn by those who should be wearing kaftans...but, fortunately, also by hot-bodied hunks who managed to induce some ogle-drool all over the front of my Hawaiian-Tropic-# 8-scented chest...and if that weren't enough, PV is also the land of the papas friedas (potato chips). Let's face it, a vacation without chips is like Alec Baldwin with a shaved body or a 98 lb Jean-Claude Van Damme...utterly and completely pointless.

First on the week's purchase were Chips à la Diabla...They were not as hot as hell, as one might be led to believe, but when it comes to taste...ai-yi-yi, have the Mexicans got it down pat. As the package states "suculentament diferentes" (and no, that does not mean "suck slowly"). These bites of mucho happiness tasted akin to our ketchup chips, but with an added kick (Devil's Ketchup might have been a more suitable name) These chips (libre de acidos grasos trans) were a true treat and a wonderful way to welcome the week. Granted, copious amounts of sun, sea, and alcohol will easily lower anyone's standards...nonetheless, on the Mexican el wang-o-metro, these papas rate a muy grande ocho ( 8 ) inches...and will have you screaming with suculentamente.

The second day's purchase had to be eaten on day three, due to a gorge fest of deliciousness at a local restaurant...Bag # 2 were named Chip-Otles (and were a chipotle and cheese flavour). How clever these Mexicans were to spot the word "chip" in "chipotle" (I know I never did) and turn it into an ingenius marketing campaign. A double olé for our friends down south. Upon opening the bag, I was blinded by the chemically-red seasoning that covered every inch of these crunchers (note: not necessarily a bad thing.) My first bite immediately brought to mind a spicy Doritos with a hint of smoky flavour. My travelling companion thought they tasted like hotdogs. Obviously, the heat and beer were wrecking havoc on someone's taste buds. Confusion and discussion ensued. There we were in Mexico, experiencing our own McLaughlin Group moment, exchanging opinions and spewing accusations faster than Life is a Rock (But the Radio Rolled Me) is sung. Unable to come to a firm decision, these chips on el wang-o-metro rate a 7.5...or a 6...or a 4.5...who knows? Perhaps a second bag is required for retesting purposes, but until then they remain an enigma...much like Little Richard.