JUNK FOOD STORIES The Space Program brought us, among other things, Tang. Once in a blue moon they'd come out with some new "exciting" flavor but to this day in the USA the only one you're likely to see in the Powdered Drinks aisle of a supermarket, or in the Diet & Health Foods aisle, which is pretty funny considering how much sugar is in the stuff. (Tang shares with Wasa crackers the distinction of being among those comestibles which supermarket organizers have no consensus as to their best location. Then there's soy sauce, which I use as much as oil and vinegar but which is always in the Oriental aisle, as if only Orientals use it. Speaking of which, why is it not politically incorrect to call in Oriental food?) When I was in San Angelo, Texas, in "1992", imagine my surprise to find Mango-flavored Tang (or "Tang sabor Mango"-- it was a bilingual label) on the shelf right next to what they call "orange". I bought a jar, and it was the best artificially-flavored sugar drink I'd ever tasted. I went back to get more and they were gone! They had been put in a shopping cart with other products that they were trying to clear in a hurry. Imagine my worry that, having found this powdered ambrosia, it appeared that it had just been discontinued! I bought all 13 jars. Upon return to the East Coast I called the 800 number on the jar to ask about where to get it, and the young lady said they only marketed it in Hispanic neighborhoods. I said "what about Manhattan? There are plenty of Hispanics there." She said she needed a zip code from which she could give locations within a mile or two of the center of the zip code. I gave the zip code 10023, which is middle West Side Manhattan. She said there was nothing listed in that area. I gave up. Then a week later I got a letter from them listing stores in Manhattan that carried Tang Sabor Mango, including one right inside the 10023 zip code. I went and sure enough, there it was. A few years later I did a concert in Chihuahua, Chihuahua State, ESM (Estados Unidos Mexicanos, which is the official name of the country, not just eThis translates as "The United States of M?xico". This is important to know if you're crossing the border. You can't just say you're from the United States and expect to be let back in.) During our off time we visited the local market. Of course I went to the powdered drink aisle, and yes indeed there was Mango Tang there. But not only Mango, but also Limen (lime), (spanish word for Apple) (apple), Jamaica (pronounced ha-My-ca) a purple Mexican fruit, I think and... Durazno (peach). (Oh yes, and the original flavor as well.) For my money, Durazno is even better than Mango. If anyone in M?xico is reading this, please send me a large amount of Tang sabor Durazno, straight away. A year or so after that, I had a gig in El Paso, which is across the river from Ciudad Juarez, also in Chihuahua State, Mexico. One night one of the local singers reserved a table at Viva Mexico!, a restaurant with floor show in Ju?rez, in the Mexican analogue of a mall. Basically an adobe mall. There was a supermarket there, so I went to stock up on Tang, and discovered yet another, new, flavor, Mandarina (Tangerine). It's leagues better than the usual American flavor, but of course you can't get it north of the border. (I should mention that we do have another Tang flavor in the States, but it's not worth speaking about.) I noticed something else in that store: there is no Hi-C of any flavor. What seems to have happened, as in nature, is that Tang has filled the niche in Mexican markets that Hi-C had already captured in American ones with the result that Mexicans, whatever other inferiorities there may or may not be in their standards of living, are enjoying some of the best artificially flavored powdered sugar drinks available to humankind. But the story doesn't end there! I was in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, after the El Paso gig, and strolling through The Real Superstore I chanced upon yet another Tang flavor unavailable south of that border: Grape. My memory holds that Grape Tang was in American stores for a while, but is no longer. With Welch's readily available, though, Grape Tang wouldn't be worth it. (I don't know if Welch's exists in Canada. Nabisco does exist there; however, in Canada it's called Christie's.) In Indianola, Iowa, in "1991", at a store called Pamida, I first saw a different kind of Tostitos: Lime & Chili flavor. (Be careful: this is NOT the "Hint of Lime" chip now universally available.) This was Lime & Chili, and for a flavored salty fried food it was odd in that there were no artificial ingredients. It was the best chip I'd ever had. I came home with the empty pockets of my car stuffed with bags of it. I called THEIR 800 number to find out that they didn't market Lime & Chili Tostitos east of Chicago. "Our market surveys indicated that people in those areas didn't like them," she said. I kid you not. My girlfriend and I were in Indianapolis, just a few miles east of Chicago's latitude. I asked the local Cub Foods to buy some, which they did, and I was probably the only one who bought them. I ran into them in Dallas, Portland and Miami (which last I checked was way east of Chicago). Then a few years ago these "Hint of Lime" chips hit the shelves, and now Lime & Chili Tostitos seem to have been discontinued in favor of this chip with artificial green in it and no chili. So I write this as a eulogy to perhaps the best snack food ever made (and undermarketed) by a major coporation. The best part of it was the layer of lime and chili flavor that was deposited on your fingers while you ate the chips, which you then got to scrape off with your teeth. Mmm-mm. However, about the same time Lime & Chili Tostitos disappeared, I discovered Boulder Malt Vinegar and Sea Salt potato chips, which though different are as good as the Tostitos. Their distribution is peppery, though: only at health food stores and absent from many of them. I should mention that there is a Chili and Lime corn chip from one of the "natural" companies, available in health food stores nationwide, but it's nothing like the Tostitos variety. Too thick, not crunchy enough, and the lime flavor is odd. I learned from these adventures that corporations are very particular about where and how to market their products and are often in error, and we consumers almost never hear about it.