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The Snackpot is taking a time-out to refill our treat coffers and take care of some website housekeeping. But while we’re away from daily posts, we wanted to bring you some thoughts from our editorial crew on the nature of snacking itself, and why we’ve all decided to take up the mantle and write about it. Thanks for reading. The Snackpot Editors Sixty percent of the human body is made up of water. That is what some website told me once. The other 40 percent? Probably snacks. We all have our go-to snacks that we turn to in times of hunger, in times of depression, in times of inebriation and in times where we just want to add a little flavor to our lives. (I prefer my life to be peppered with a dash of salt and vinegar.) Snacks speak for the individual. Are you an Almond Joy or a Mounds? A Ruffles or a Lay’s? A connoisseur of confections or a salty bitch? What drew me to writing for The Snackpot was the lamestream media’s refusal to recognize snack’s pop cultural significance. I’m proud to be a defender of snack’s reputation, and I look forward to keeping The Snackpot tradition alive. And as a wise man (me) once said: Show me a man without a favorite snack, and I will show you a man who didn’t understand the question. - Keith Ecker Say snack and my brain probably jumps to my mom reaching into the “way back” of our old pea green station wagon for a classic red can of original Pringles as we drive that excruciating three and a half hours to our property in Northern Michigan. Or watching popcorn kernels shake in the hot oil before they start to explode, before I’m old enough to flip the whole thing over to let the fresh popcorn settle into its built-in bowl. Or the excitement of scoring a chocolate pudding cup in a lunchtime trade. Sure, snacks provide sustenance, tiding us over until our next meal or settling our late night stomachs before bed. But snacks are the story of Us. Our own individual stories—what we liked and didn’t, what we were allowed, and what associations come with them. They are also the stories of humankind and our ingenuity to create and cultivate bite sized entities so simple (the potato chip, anyone?) to the ridiculous (deep fried Fruity Pebbles coated Twinkies perhaps?) The history of snacks is the history of people. It’s early 20th century Jewish immigrants turning the bagel into an everyday food item. It’s German chocolate companies surviving the rubble of World War II. It’s a casual walk into a San Antonio café for a savory snack—and the subsequent purchase of the corn chip recipe that would launch a Frito nation. Packed into all that fiber and oil and fruit and “fruit” is a desire to feed the world, however selfless or selfish the reasons. While waxing poetic about individual ingredients is definitely fun, the human element is always at the heart of each snack I take on. - Michael Van Kerckhove Life can often be summarized by a series of trips, both physical and metaphysical. A trip from the bed to the shower. A trip cross-country. A trip of existential self-reflection. Within those trips are midpoints. Kansas City between St. Louis and Denver. A moment of reflection between a crisis and pretty good time. Those mid-, quarter-, and eighth-points between our places of origin and our destinations are where snacks reside. They dot our highways of life. They are the pit-stops between metropolitan areas, the scenic overlooks and World’s Largest Frying Pans that force us to take notice of the world that others see as fly-over country. It’s magical and defining, and we’re definitely not “just passing through.” It’s the country, the real ‘Merica. We sustain ourselves on these oddities in the gaps. It’s what we talk about in our culture, it’s the Seinfeldian “nothing,” but as we’ve come to learn, it’s everything. It’s the little stuff, the bite-sized vitality that seeps through and makes the impressions we remember. It’s salty, sweet, sometimes sad, but it always makes the trip worth taking. – Jacob Daneman Why then, finally, do we snack? Sure, a snack functions as a nutritional stopgap: some peanut-butter crackers at 4 p.m., say, bridge that seemingly-neverending gap between lunch and dinner; a bit of chocolatey sweet quickens the pulse and eases the mind. But why snack foods? Why the bite-size, the flavor-blasted, the crunch-enhanced? Why do we count down the days to the Tabasco-flavored Jelly Belly? Why do we groan in communal disappointment at the glory that Candy Corn Oreos could have – nay, ought to have – been? Because snack foods are low commitment – nobody’s asking for Bugles or Funyuns to satisfy any of the day’s vitamin requirements, e.g. – they’re the place where the minds of food marketers and scientists can meet with the fewest restrictions, can bring together flavors, textures, and shapes in new and unprecedented combinations, with nothing at stake but pure delight. A snack is a tiny vacation. A snack is important, because it is frivolous. We snack not because we must, but because we can. - Anna Bond There is chaos in our world. Bad news everyday. It can be a drag, or even the blocky shadow of an anvil falling from the sky. Luckily there are small moments in each day where victory is achieved, where that anvil is sidestepped, and those moments often have to do with snacks. A snack isn’t just a meal’s step-cousin. It’s solace, release, respite. It’s also a sector of our food economy that’s branded on the hilt of a sword. Ad dollars and desperate marketing shouting into our ears, trying to grab a piece of us before we check out. This shit is serious, and that’s why the world needs the Snackpot. We parse the nougat from the nonsense and mete out snack justice experientially, because that’s the tastiest way we know how. Snacks are part of our human narrative, and the debate rages everyday, even as our world bites off more crazy than it can probably chew. From tracking the antics of Big Snack to trying to find a way into what really makes a childhood snack favorite tick, it’s our goal to rip open every wrapper and get to the bottom of every bag. Somewhere in all that sugar is the word truth. - Johnny Loftus I once knew a woman who, though a grown ass adult, refused to eat anything but pepperoni pizza and mac & cheese for meals and plain potato chips and ice cream for snacks. That’s it. On the one hand, I felt a little jealous that she was able to maintain a good figure and show no obvious signs of scurvy, but on the other hand, her stunted palate robbed her of more-than-needed nutrients. It also insulated her from opportunities to explore and experience the cultures, flavors and customs of other countries and ethnicities. Though it might seem like a stretch to say that, for instance, going to an Indian grocery store and taking a chance on snacks and sweets that are totally foreign to you is akin to experiencing the flavors and customs of another culture, it’s a great jumping off point and, if we’re ever going to put an end to ethnic strife, we’ve gotta start somewhere. Just look at the Pilgrims and the Native Americans: The Pilgrims were freaked out by the Native Americans until they saw them popping popcorn over a fire and then the Pilgrims were like, “Whoa. Those people in the teepees have some really cool snacks. Let’s talk to them.”* See? The whole history of our country is based on the principle of adventurous snacking. That’s why I snack. In the interest of world peace and cultural exploration. And because patriotism. In fact, I’m going to go ahead and pack up 50 boxes of Pop Tarts and mail them to a Japanese secondary school. Attached will be a note that says, “To you Japan, an American delicacy. Because diplomacy. Love, Barack Obama.” Then when Obama gets a giant Pocky variety pack from Japan with a note that says, “Thanks for the Pop Tarts!,” he’ll be confused, but it will also make his day because everybody likes to get snacks in the mail. Obama will then send some of his Pocky supply to John Boehner with a note that says, “I know things are tense between us, but have some Pocky.” Next thing you know they’re finding common ground on budget issues. That is the power of snacks. Let’s use it for good and help change the world. - Laura Witkowski