In May, the UK government rolled out its “Prepare” emergency campaign, urging citizens to stock up on essentials like bottled water, wind-up radios, and non-perishable foods. Personally, while I’ve gathered a few cans of soup, I’ve been more strategic in quietly amassing bags of Co-op’s sea salt and chardonnay wine vinegar crisps. Like millions of Brits, my affection for crisps runs deep.
Crisps are the quintessential survival snack. They’re sealed and salted, yet a great bag can transform into a personal dining experience, where each crunch is savored and evaluated like a Michelin inspector critiquing a meal. They provide comfort and nostalgia, and during the pandemic, they saw a surge in popularity, with Britons purchasing £441 million more snack bags in 2020 than they did the previous year. Historically, they’ve even played a role in lifting spirits during tough times. At the Smith’s Crisps Annual General Meeting back in 1941, chairman Sir Herbert E Morgan remarked that Londoners were bringing crisps to air raid shelters, saying, “As in times of peace our crisps have been a standby, and an always reliable friend – they are additionally so these days.”
It’s reasonable that we turn to our “reliable friend” in times of uncertainty. Research suggests that salt can enhance mood, which may explain our collective affinity for crisps. Nevertheless, crisps also reflect deeper emotions, revealing what the British public appreciates about its own identity.
In the 1950s, food scientists began perfecting artificial flavors, allowing crisps to engage in a uniquely British society conversation. This is exemplified by special editions like Walkers’ coronation chicken flavor, celebrating King Charles, or Morrisons’ ’nduja, which nods to trendy toppings in East London. The UK seems to set itself apart by embedding social commentary into crisp packaging while keeping pace with culinary trends.
The British crisp landscape showcases a blend of classic flavors with innovative spins, like Kent Crisps’ oyster and vinegar. Brands like Walkers thrive on staples that resonate across generations: ready salted for crisp sandwiches, salt and vinegar for pub outings, cheese and onion for train trips, and prawn cocktail for nostalgia. Recent trends even see “crisp walls” at weddings and “crisp bouquets” replacing traditional flowers, while high-end designers feature crisp-inspired items, signaling a newfound reverence for this snack.
As we puzzle over our collective love for crisps, it’s essential to examine the socio-cultural dynamics of our recent past. The crisp phenomenon traces back decades. Whether considering Frank Smith’s crisp factory in 1919 Cricklewood or the emergence of Golden Wonder and Walkers in the late ’40s, each date adds a layer to our crisp story. The Frito-Lay merger in 1961 marked a significant turning point, propelling the industry toward global dominance.
Reflecting on Britain’s attachment to crisps, the 1980s stand out. Emerging from economic hardship, the 1970s saw food prices skyrocket, and suddenly, what you could afford defined your status. Crisps transcended their role as mere pub fare; as supermarkets rose in prominence, they became staples of convenience for busy households.
Government initiatives like the 1974 value-added tax on luxury foods added complexity to the crisp landscape. Politicians recognized crisps as integral to many diets, prompting debates on rising prices. Notably, even amidst economic changes, crisps continued appealing to consumers, evolving in flavor and making their place in grocery baskets more secure.
By 1984, Britons spent an astonishing £805 million on crisps and snacks, a number that crossed £1 billion by the decade’s end. Walkers ramped up operations, including a notable hiring spree, creating a delivery force that embodied crisp culture, complete with tailored uniforms.
After Walkers joined PepsiCo, British snack preferences influenced by American marketing reshaped the landscape. Teams traveled to California, refining British Doritos to meet consumer expectations. Today, although the crisp scene has shifted—contractors now largely deliver without the fanfare of customized livery—the love for crisps remains strong.
Opinions on crisps can stir lively discussion; ask anyone who’s tried writing about them, and they’ll usually have strong preferences. As Larry Bush, a former PepsiCo member, remarked, “Crisps are almost like a member of the family.” Yet, the industry remains fiercely competitive, making it challenging for smaller brands to carve out a niche amidst the giants.
Annually, the UK consumes around 186,000 tonnes of crisps, making this competition worthwhile. As tastes evolve to include healthier options, the challenge will be to hold on to the traditional crisp experience amid changing diets.
Interestingly, European brands are stepping up their game. Belgian brand Superbon is introducing vibrant flavors, while French creator Les Brets is taking on industry giants like Lay’s with gourmet profiles. This raises an intriguing question: Do other countries share our passion for crisps? The British love for this snack isn’t just about the taste but the spirited debates it inspires. Are artisan or mass-produced crisps superior? And which type of salt and vinegar reigns supreme? The answers may be elusive, but that’s part of the enjoyment. Crisps, like British culture, continue to spark curiosity and conversation.
