The Best Chip There Is

With sadness and gratitude, these pages note the death earlier this month of Steve Bernard, the founder of Cape Cod Potato Chips, which is easily my favorite chip. He was 61 and the cause was pancreatic cancer.

By the time I was introduced to the chip in late high school -- by a good friend who also introduced me to Cape Cod itself -- Mr. Bernard had already sold his company once, bought it back and sold it again, so perhaps I can't say he is personally responsible for my love of the chip. (And I love potato chips; they're unquestionably my favorite snack food.) However, he created a wonderful potato chip. Cape Cod's chips are so excellent because they have a great crunch whose oil and salt are barely detectable. You actually taste the chip and don't have disgustingly greasy fingertips from fishing around in the bag for a handful. They're reduced-fat chips taste like the fully fattening version, which I can't write of any other brand. And the alternate flavors I like, "Golden Russet" and "Beachside Barbecue," are great because they have deep flavor without being overwhelming. The russet is baritone and earthy; the barbecue, fun and tangy.

In the past 10 years or so, the number of gourmet potato chip brands, such as Kettle, has grown markedly, which I can't say is a bad thing. I love companies that take a pedestrian food, such as the potato chip, experiment with its seasoning and introduce us to new possibilities. But Cape Cod chips are a great argument for why the middlebrow matters: Bernard took a different, slightly more "elitist" approach, making chips with kettle-cooking rather continuous frying, that had a better taste than everything else -- and he introduced it to a mass audience. It wasn't on the extreme end of the flavor spectrum, as some newer brands are, which repels the "typical supermarket shopper," but it was a vast improvement to where the chip industry sat on that spectrum at the time. Additionally, his product was also approachable and affordable, the latter undoubtedly helped by being bought out by larger companies.

That underlying principle -- subtly elevating mainstream taste; nudging the middlebrow higher by making high-quality products available to a mass audience -- is one of the biggest things missing from early-21st-century American life.

Thanks to my girlfriend for buying me a small bag of the Russet flavor Sunday, in Mr. Bernard's honor. They tasted great.