Dispatch from the grub department

Warning: These epic corn chips are snack crack

Perfect happy hour: rosemary gimlet and a bag of Have’A Corn Chips

I recently made a trip back to Santa Fe after almost five years of being away, and I’ve been thinking since about revisiting old haunts and about souvenirs, both tangible and not quite so. I expect to return to the deeper veins of these thoughts later, but today a more ordinary rediscovery has my attention. Something I happened upon in the chip aisle at the Santa Fe Whole Foods, something I hadn’t exactly forgotten but was delighted to see. It was as if I’d bumped into an old friend I hadn’t thought to call ahead.

Have’A Corn Chips are, subjectively, the best tortilla chips of all time. They’re made with *JOY LOVE LiGHT* and barely four ingredients—corn, soybean oil, soy sauce, and a dash of lime. They’re light, have a crispy crunch, and are salted with the umami-tang of soy sauce. The darker the chip, the better, so if you encounter Have’As in the grocery wilds, scan the transparent bags and pick one with the highest volume of darker soy-stained chips.

Here I feel I ought to reiterate the warning above. These things are addictive. Lay’s will “betcha can’t eat just one” of their potato chips, but if you’ve ever tried Have’As, you know it can be tough to eat just one bag. (The bag is only 4 oz., but still.) This next detail is either a case of good news/bad news or bad news/bad news, but they’re also pretty hard to come by outside of California and parts of the western U.S.

I grew up spending summers in California with my dad, and Have’A chips were a natural food store staple in the state. I don’t remember having them anywhere else until they popped up in Santa Fe years later. I used to ask my mom to send me some for my birthday, and getting those four or six precious bags via UPS was a major hit of sunshine and California dreaming in the midst of a Midwestern February.

Heaven in a cardboard box.

You can now order a case of Have’A Corn Chips via Amazon, but I have mixed feelings about recommending this option. In part because even as hard to resist as they are, some of the bags will almost certainly be stale before you can finish all 24. But there’s also something appealing about not being able to have them all the time. They become an itinerary item when I’m traveling somewhere I know I’ll be able to buy them, or they’re a treat of serendipity when I happen upon them somewhere unexpected.

Actually, a sense of mystery seems part of their whole ethos. The company, which has been making the chips in Laguna Beach since some time before 1975 (the specific history is shrouded), does not have a website; you can’t pull up a URL and find out where to buy them near you. They do appear to have an Instagram page, but the bio info simply states, “Have’A chips and have a great day!”, and nearly all of the 15 posts (covering a period from July 2020 to August 2023) are reposted from others. The bag lists a P.O. Box and a non-800 phone number, but according to articles and comments on blogs I dug around for this week, the phone isn’t reliably answered and they aren’t interested in talking to the press.

I have to say, their unplugged approach only further endears them to me.

I only wish I’d brought home a few bags as impermanent souvenirs from this last trip. I’m a Northern Californian by birth, but I’ll dip into the vernacular of the chips’ SoCal roots to say, I’d be, like, totally stoked to post up with a bag of Have’As right about now. And maybe if I really really liked you, I’d share.

Cheers to the weekend and rad snacks.

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Question: Any favorite childhood snacks you still go crazy for?

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PS: I believe Have’A chips are best enjoyed all by themselves, with nothing to dampen that perfect balance of oily crispy saltiness, but they do also pair deliciously well with a dead simple guacamole. I recommend avocado, lemon (my preference) or lime juice, sea salt, and nothin’ else.