The Chips Connoisseur

I remember my first memory of purchased joy, the one that actually involved me transacting money. Before my father leaves for the office, the four or five-year-old me would stand by the door and ask him for exactly one peso. Fresh out of the pockets of his slacks, the prized coin would be in a kid’s hands braving the perils of crossing their street to buy a bag of Oishi prawn crackers.

I would empty its clear plastic down to its last grain of monosodium glutamate.

I’ve been eating chips ever since. Almost predictably, with the chips and the unhealthy food (along with stress, and therefore: alcohol, cigarettes), I got a portion of my inheritance early in my 20s - the high blood pressure that runs in the family. The pharmaceutical companies steal from me every day through my maintenance medication. In my late twenties I managed my diet better and took into running as a metaphor for life. I stopped being an all-too-lonely lump of fat, and maintained a body mass index that’s right on the spot.

I gave up on eating a lot of the sumptuous delights of the cholesterol factory. I substituted most of my carbohydrates like rice with wheat bread, even if most people in Asia eat about 2 cups of rice a day. I even learned to read nutrition information in food labels. But even if a small bag of chips contain 20% of the saturated fat daily allowance, I could never give it up entirely. So nowadays, if I close my eyes to my self-imposed diet consciousness and eat chips – it has to be fucking good. In search of the good ones (but not never the most expensive), I’ve proclaimed myself the Chips Connoisseur.

Since D. and I got married, our groceries include a huge bag of Cheeto’s Jalapeno, Gourmet’s Nori flavoured chips, Kimchi Chips, Seat Salt Chips, Kettle’s Cheddar Cheese, Kettle’s Smoky Barbeque. We feast on them while watching DVDs. And there’s my daily needs: the chips to match my healthy sandwiches. For those, I go for the classics: Rin Bee, V-Cut and Nova.

Recently, one of the most delicious (for the unbelievably cheap price tag of 25 pesos) yet most elusive brand of all is the locally made Marty’s Old Fashioned Vegetarian Chicharon. It claims to be “guilt-free” and on the healthy side but it didn’t need to be and quite naturally, never will be. What a hilarious claim. But like most things delicious, everyone who’s had it wants it again. It’s always out-of-stock and its unavailability in major grocery stores gives it a flair of rarity. Parallel to wines, it’s the rare vintage.

Well, that’s according to me, the Chips Connoisseur.

One sunny January day after his shift on his alternate job in a call center, he goes out. The Chips Connoisseur was out to pay the Meralco (electric) bill in a BDO (bank) near Paco (wet market). Near the bank was a news stand. With the pleasure that comes in discovering a knowledge that’s previously uncertain, the Chips Connoisseur thought he saw the familiar blue wrapper of Marty’s Old Fashioned Vegetarian Chicharon. He looked for the vendor. The vendor was on old lady sitting in a green plastic chair. The old lady was asleep, her sagging chin resting on a wrinkly wrist. She’s too old to be still working, he thought. He didn’t want to wake her up but he can’t resist the chips. He wakes her up politely and asks, pointing to the chips, asks, “Magkano po dito?”

“Twenty.” The old lady says, half-yawning.

The Chips Connoisseur knew that price didn’t sound right. It was wrong to steal this rare find, especially from old ladies powerless old ladies who do not understand that those chips were vintage.

He paid the right price – what it was really worth (25 pesos), and all the coins he had left. “Keep the change.” So they say.

Chips Connoisseur, big time.