The Enigma of American Snacks: An Expat's Comical Review of the Strangest Treats and Flavors Found in US Supermarkets

The first time I walked into a Safeway in the Bay Area, I spent an unreasonable amount of time just standing in the snack aisle, staring. In Singapore, snack options are generous — prawn crackers, pineapple tarts, kaya toast, all the Asian staples. In Vietnam, you have your dried squid, your banh trang, your sugar cane juice. But nothing prepared me for the sheer creative chaos of the American snack aisle.

An entire wall of chips. An entire wall of candy. An entire wall of cookies. And the flavors — I have to admit, some of these flavor combinations feel like they were invented on a dare. :P

The Chip Situation

In my advertising career, I have worked on food brands. I understand the concept of limited-edition flavors to drive buzz. But America takes this to another level. Cappuccino-flavored potato chips exist. Chicken and waffle chips. Lobster roll chips. It is as if Lay's R&D department is playing a game of "will this work as a chip?" and the answer is always "let us find out."

I tried the cappuccino chips once, out of pure curiosity. How do I describe the experience? Imagine you are expecting a chip, and then your brain gets confused because your tongue is saying "coffee" but your hand is holding a potato product. The dissonance is real. Some flavors should stay in their original form, un-chip-ified. This is the hill I will die on.

The Candy Chaos

Pop Rocks were my first encounter with American candy culture and they genuinely startled me. You put what looks like normal candy in your mouth and it starts crackling and popping like tiny firecrackers. Sophie thought this was the greatest invention of all time. I thought I was having a medical event.

Then there is candy corn — a candy shaped like corn kernels that tastes like pure sugar with a slight waxy texture. Americans seem to be deeply divided about candy corn. I think it is one of those things that is less about the taste and more about the nostalgia. Coming from a culture where candy means things like mung bean cakes and coconut candy, candy corn is... an experience.

And chocolate-covered bacon. Yes. Chocolate. And bacon. Together. I tried it because a colleague insisted. It was... not terrible? But also not something I would seek out again. From my experience, some food combinations exist simply because someone asked "why not?" and nobody in the room had a good answer. :D

The Soda Experiments

I thought I had seen everything until I discovered the world of novelty American sodas. Ranch dressing soda. Bacon soda. Buffalo wing soda. I have so many questions about who is buying these and under what circumstances.

I took a few tentative sips of a bacon soda at a novelty shop in San Francisco. The experience was like drinking a lie — your brain expects sweet fizzy liquid, and what it gets is smoke and confusion. Some things should remain uncarbonated. I am fairly confident about this.

The Jerky Rabbit Hole

Jerky is actually one of the American snacks I have come to genuinely enjoy. Beef jerky makes a great road trip snack, and there are some excellent brands out there. But then you venture into the exotic section and find kangaroo jerky. Alligator jerky. Root beer habanero jerky. Pumpkin spice jerky. (Pumpkin spice gets into everything in this country, but that is a whole other post.)

I tried the alligator jerky. It tastes like tough chicken. I tried the pumpkin spice jerky. It tastes like regret. But I have to respect the ambition.

The Ice Cream Frontier

Ice cream in America is its own universe. What started as a simple dessert has become a playground for flavor experimentation. Lavender honey ice cream. Balsamic vinegar ice cream. Olive oil ice cream. Some of these are from fancy artisanal shops, and honestly, some of them are surprisingly delightful. The olive oil one — I might be wrong, but I think it is genuinely good.

But then you get things like "Everything Bagel" ice cream (yes, with onion, garlic, and sesame) and I think we have collectively lost the plot. Sophie disagrees — she will try anything, the bolder the better. I blame American influence.

My Verdict

The American snack aisle is a monument to creativity, capitalism, and the belief that any food can be combined with any other food. Coming from Southeast Asia, where snack culture is more traditional and flavors tend to be rooted in centuries of culinary wisdom, the American approach feels wonderfully chaotic.

I have not loved everything I have tried. But I have never been bored. And I think that is the point — Americans treat snacks as an adventure, not just sustenance. There is something admirable about that, even when the result is bacon-flavored soda.

What is the strangest American snack you have tried? And more importantly — did you actually like it?

Cheers,

Chandler