Supermarket Spy: Juanita’s Tortilla Chips

I frequently wander up and down the aisles of grocery stores for hours. It’s a perfect storm of the foodie, journalist and graphic designer in me. I’m a sucker for bright packaging, new tastes, start-up companies and anything with a great back story. My cart overfloweth with things I don’t need and probably can’t afford, but I somehow justify it all as research.

Finally, years of “research” are coming together into a column about my favorite supermarket finds. There’s no real rhyme or reason to what I’ll find other than it intrigues me, and I want you to know about it, too.

It may be a great local pasta maker, or a ridiculous new flavor of potato chip. It may be a wonderfully healthy juice, or a heart-stopping, fat-laden junk food that’s only interesting because of its offensiveness. It may be from a small local grocer or a national chain. The only rule is that there are no rules here.

So come along for this sometimes delicious, sometimes disgustingly decadent ride called the BiteClub Supermarket Spy.

Juanita’s Tortilla Chips: My favorite Mexican joint in Santa Rosa is perfect in every way but one: Their tortilla chips are horrible. They’re thick and tasteless, a bit stale from sitting under the heat lamp for gosh knows how long, and always broken.

How I wish they’d serve Juanita’s Tortilla Chips ($1.79, Grocery Outlet, 116 Fourth St., Santa Rosa). Think of them as a sort of Goldilocks of tortilla chips. Not too hard, not too flimsy, but just exactly right.

I first had them on the Olympic Peninsula at a friend’s house, casually dipping them into guacamole before exclaiming (inappropriately loudly) how stupid good they were.

Made by a family in Hood River, Oregon, you’ll rarely see these chips south of Medford, hence I’ve been dreaming of them ever since. So finding them on a recent trip to Grocery Outlet (Bargain Market) I again exclaimed (inappropriately loudly) my glee at their impressive supply.

With a solid snap (rather than a tooth-cracking crunch), plenty of salt, a mere whisper of lime, and leaving a hint of oil on your fingers, these are guacamole’s long-lost friend.

The bad news: Like most items at the “get it while it’s here” bargain market, they may be gone before you know it. So buy a few bags and thank me later.

See more supermarket finds online at BiteClubEats.com/Spy.