Old Dutch Foods

Now, as it happens, I'm actually very familiar with Old Dutch Foods, a manufacturer of potato chips and other schnacks in the midwest and Canada. They make all kinds of crap--from tortilla chips & salsa to ketchup chips (silly Canadians).

But, in all honesty, I remember Old Dutch particularly for the twin packs. You'd buy a big box and inside were two clear plastic bags of potato chips, preferably with ridges if you knew what was good for you. Old Dutch calls the ruffly ones "Rip-L," which reminds me of this kid I went to school with back in the day (which I now know was a Wednesday, thanks to Dane Cook). His last name was Rippl, and his younger siblings were triplets, earning them the nickname "The Riplets." How cute is that? Not quite as cute as when Michelle Tanner would say "ouce cream," but close. I said close, Sweetin. Don't get all methy about it.

Since they are so midwesty, and basically just a notch up from generic, it's no surprise that I associate Old Dutch with my most Wisconsinny childhood memories.

We'd buy Old Dutch twin packs at the Antigo IGA (the one with the weird stand-up carts and racks of Archie comics) when we'd trek four hours to go up north to our cabin every other weekend in the summers (until my parents sold it in 1994 to buy a sailboat, thus crushing my dreams of having a really cool vacation home now that I'm kind of a grown up).

We'd buy Old Dutch along with cans of Old Style (for real not because my parents were hipsters), cardboard trays of assorted Faygo soda and 4-packs of Batles & Jaymes from the family-run liquor store Schnapps Haus (where my dad can actually say "put it on my tab" and they actually write down what he bought and bill him later) before going up to Green Bay for a Packer tailgate. The brats were already in the car, okay?

And, I can't be certain about this, but I'm pretty sure there were a few twin packs present the day we packed up about six minivans of family friends, hitched the avocado green motorboat to the back of our brown & black Ford Bronco, and headed out for a day at Long Lake, which I think was part of some sort of state park we'd go to when we were kids. On this particular day, though, my dad took a swig of his High Life only to find out there was a bee inside the can. A BEE. It stung him in the throat. FROM THE INSIDE. Panicking, he grabbed a bottle of Benadryl from one of the moms and chugged the whole thing. Needless to say, he was rather fucked up for a while.

But that's why, from then on, at any outdoor gathering, my mom always supplied us with those nifty little color-coded can covers. And, why the announcement at the Wisconsin Badger games once I got to college really struck a chord with me: "Remember: Drink plenty of liquids, and check for bees in your drinks." Y'know, I bet that announcement was sponsored by Old Dutch.