Hip To Be Shared

Puffed snacks represent the pinnacle of junk food innovation and technology. No matter how hard you try, there’s simply no way to replicate that characteristically light, airy, yet impossibly crisp texture at home; trust me, I’ve gone through the ringer in my own kitchen, to no avail. Coated in powdered cheese of varying fluorescence hues, the salty morsels have been staining fingers since the 1930s but never gained much traction among the nutritionally conscious. That should come as no surprise, since questionable oils and highly processed dairy ingredients have long been the “best” that these salty treats could offer.

Hippeas is a new company set to change all that, turning away from the traditional corn base and towards one composed of everyone’s favorite legume: the chickpea.

Much more substantial than your typical puffed snack, each kernel boasts a sturdy, satisfying crunch, backed by impressive protein and fiber values. Unlike the Styrofoam whips of yore, one serving really will do… Although the tempting flavors might convince you keep munching.

Six unique seasonings offer a different taste for every craving. Cheese is the gold standard, the essential foundation of the puffed snack hierarchy, so the Vegan White Cheddar has very high expectations to live up to. While the overall effect doesn’t disappoint, it doesn’t entirely deliver either. Evoking the flavor profile of creamy mac and cheese, it will certainly scratch that savory itch, but an incongruous sweetness detracts from the experience. Simply put, they’re highly enjoyable, but would never fool an omnivore.

Where Hippeas shine is in their more creative offerings that make no allusions to imitation. Delicious within their own right as a completely unique snack, the Far Out Fajita was the stand-out winner by my account. Cumin and coriander ring clearest out of the seasoning melange, imparting a Tex-Mex vibe. Further munching evoked the flavors of crunchy falafel, which made me think they would pair brilliantly with a bold tahini dip.

Pepper Power presents a strong showing for the most basic option. Thoroughly flecked with ground black pepper, each bite provides a nice balance of spice and salt, creating a subtle warmth that doesn’t overwhelm. By contrast, Sriracha Sunshine takes a bolder approach, but falls far short of its scoville target. The initial taste is of vinegar, with a timid heat following quietly, slow to build up steam. Excess sweetness brings down the spice considerably for these morsels, but in the case of Happenin’ Hickory, that same quality creates a pleasing balance. Accented with tomato, onion, and garlic, the overall effect delivers the impression of barbecue sauce more than pure hickory smoke, but is highly munchable nonetheless.

For those with a sweet tooth, Hippeas has something for you, too! The taste of Maple Haze rings true for pancake syrup with subtle buttery undertones. Take a bag with you to the theater next time; I think they’d make delightful alternative to caramel corn.

The full line of Hippeas aren’t perfect across the board, but one thing is for sure: They’ve mastered the elusive ways of the puff, and taken the “junk” out of this particular junk food favorite. There’s a whole lot to savor if you stick with the top hits.

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Come On, Get Happea

Incorporating vegetables into dessert has long drawn the ire and skepticism of food enthusiasts across all boundaries- And for good reason. Aside from the untouchable legacy of the carrot cake, most attempts to enter into this arena have never been about enhancing flavor, but decreasing guilt. Red flags should immediately arise anytime food is not created with the taste being of foremost importance. Largely perpetrated by health food gurus trying to “hide” a bit of added nutrition into everyday cookies and cakes, such efforts have only been to their detriment. It’s no wonder that something like Green Pea Cookies would warrant further explanation to wary Americans still haunted by childhood demands to eat their peas and carrots before getting dessert. Turns out that this concoction is far from avant-garde in Singapore, where this simple snack was born.

Despite the vibrant coloring, there isn’t the least bit of “green” or vegetative flavor to be found. Instead, each delicate if slightly crumbly dome imparts a strikingly nutty impression, not dissimilar from classic tea cookies. The difference here is that without a cloak of confectioner’s sugar shrouding the outside, a much more nuanced, balanced taste is able to come through. Plenty sweet but offset by a notable punch of salt, the overall experience is something far more impressive than the humble appearance suggests. Crunchy pieces of dried peas speckle the insides throughout, keeping the texture enjoyably varied from start to finish.

Providing celiac sufferers with a gluten-free alternative was certainly a thoughtful brand extension, but I’m afraid that this version falls a bit short of the mark set by the originals. Vastly drier, there was more powder than cookie in my sample package, and the slightly bitter cereal note of rice flour was immediately obvious. That said, they would no doubt have fared much more favorably if I didn’t have the gluten-full treats to compare them to.

Also available for the sweet pea connoisseur is a growing family of pea cookie flavors. While I didn’t have the opportunity to sample the cranberry cookie, the chocolate-dipped variation successfully brought these green nuggets up to the next level of dessert decadence. The sturdy sheath of dark chocolate coating does have a tendency to slide off like an over-sized slipper, but tailoring be darned, it’s still a perfect fit in my eyes.

If you’d like to see vegetables treated with more respect come the final course of a meal, look no further than Green Pea Cookies. Help support their mission (and get in on the pea cookie action for yourself) by contributing to their KickerStarter campaign, going on now.

Samples were provided by the Green Pea Cookie company but I was not compensated for my time. All opinions, photos, and recipes are solely my own.