The Onion on Hot Food

I recently had a very brief, but excellent conversation with somebody from The Onion’s AV Club. He was beyond polite. We discussed my occasional need to tear into something that the site has published, even though it is the only site I’ll trust for reviews.

Today, they set experienced hot chips, and it is a fantastic, and telling, review. Every once in a while, TOAVC stuffs a bunch of people into a room with some sort of “tasty” treat and then writes up the people’s response. This week featured some soft drinks, and the hilariously titled Blair’s Death Rain Habanero Chips, which are basically potato chips with a bunch of hot poured all over them. (Blair’s makes incredibly burning hot sauces. Some people are into this. Although I eat my food hot, I don’t eat hot sauces for the sake of suffering.)

TOAVC was challenged to do this by one of their regular readers: Zodiac Motherfucker. S/He was interviewed before the review began and basically announced that these chips were hot, and that he wasn’t aware that Indians had any food, much less hot food. It is a brilliant interview. Really, what would we do without the internet?

Needless to say, TOAVC stuffs people into a room, makes them eat these chips, and then published some responses. I’ve selected several of the more important ones to the point that I want to make:

“They’re hot enough that all you taste is the spice.”

“Yeah, it burns so much that there’s no actual flavor. It just tastes dusty. I feel like I just licked dirt with ground glass in it.”

“Why would anyone want to eat this? Besides, like, on a bet?”

“The first habanero chip must have been a dud, because the second one was extremely hot. Nothing subtle about it, this chip almost made my eyes water. No depth of flavor. Just intense heat that lasted a good five minutes.”

I find various reasons to wander down to the ocean and howl at the tide. One is the occasionally jarring attitude of critics, who, if they cannot personally find any value in an experience, then assume that there is no value to be found. Value, of course, is personal to all of us. The notion that there is inherent value in one thing and not another is just that: a notion. It isn’t a fact, regardless of what people with intimate knowledge of a particular thing would have us believe. A romance novel is worth more to a person who likes romance novels than are the works of Shakespeare. However, neither the romance novels nor the works of Shakespeare are worth more or less than the other.

As a consumer of hot food, I don’t go into it looking for an amazing taste sensation; I go seeking heat. (Whether I do this because I have fewer taste buds on my tongue, or for the endorphin rush, or whatever, I seek the heat.) The people involved in this tasting do not, apparently, eat or enjoy hot food. Note especially the quote that says, “There is no depth of flavor.” To which those of us who eat hot food would say, “So?”

Explaining This A Different Way
The other day, I went to my local Indian restaurant and ordered shahi paneer masala, extra hot. There is a new chef there, and he was apparently told that I was his test case, that it would be a challenge to make it hot for me. But he was up to the challenge. I got tears in my eyes. I got the the giggles. My mouth as on fire, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

This experience isn’t for everyone. Once, I was having lunch with a friend who wanted to put ground chili powder onto her food, as I did onto mine. I warned her that it was hot, but she said she’d be okay. One bite later, using much less than I used, and she was not a happy camper. She, obviously, doesn’t to eat her food the way I like to eat mine.

Conclusion
What’s problematic to me about reviews in general is this assumption that the reviewer possesses the ability to make true statements about the thing, whatever it is (art, music, food, etc). In fact, they’re reflecting nothing more than their own opinions. Reviewing is nothing more than saying what you think about a particular thing. Blair’s Death Rain Habanero Chips aren’t without value; they’re just without value to the however-many-people were standing in the room tasting them at that time. Perhaps they’re the greatest food stuff ever if you’re like me, just as Snakes On A Plane was a great movie…if you’re like me.

The problem that lies within is this notion that reviews reflect some sort of truth. It just isn’t true. If only the review had contained some sort of information for us to use, some sort of disclaimer like, “TOAVC used reviewers who don’t generally like hot food, and thus, were predisposed to dislike the aforementioned chips.” Or, “The reviewer doesn’t like cheeseball airplane horror movies, and thus, was predisposed to dislike Snakes On A Plane.” Maybe if we knew more about the reviewer, these problems wouldn’t exist, because we’d know the biases going into the review.