Lee Suckling: Cassava chips are a cultural icon

You never really appreciate cassava chips until they're not available to you anymore. Photo / Creative Commons

Throughout my budget international travels over the summer holidays, there was one thing that began to make me homesick every time I got on a plane. The absence of cassava chips.

I know what you're thinking. Who actually likes Air New Zealand's cassava chips? The airline has been giving them out to hungry travellers since what feels like the signing of the Treaty, and while mildly satisfactory they're certainly no Cookie Time cookie (or, better yet, one of the Whittaker's squares that once appeared on board for a short period).

Yes, I yearned for cassava chips, even though I frequently turn them down at home. I wanted cassava chips not for their taste or their weird crispy-yet-soft texture, but the comfort they came with. I ached for cassava chips, because somehow, perhaps unintentionally, they have gone from second-choice freebie to modern cultural icon.

Like the togs/undies universal rule, goody goody gum drops ice cream, and a continual love-hate relationship with Australia, cassava chips are part of the modern Kiwi existence. They're something every New Zealander understands, but nobody else anywhere in the world will ever get.

As a Kiwi with overseas travel experience, you'll know that you never really appreciate cassava chips (or Air New Zealand in general, actually) until they're not available to you anymore.

For those unaware, short-haul flights overseas on airlines like easyJet in Europe and Southwest Airlines in the US don't come with a local treat to stave off your hunger until landing. They don't come with an airline-branded chocolate or a packet of salty nuts. They don't even come with water.

Inasmuch, it isn't the actual chips themselves you miss when you're away. You miss acceptably-priced airport coffee that isn't served out of a machine by a "barista" pressing a button labelled "cappuccino". You miss actually being able to use your ePassport. You miss the comforting-cum-cringe worthy twang of the purser's Kiwi accent.

Though sometimes we feel consigned by the world to little more than All Blacks and hobbits, we're privy to a selection of banal cassava chip-like quirks so Kiwi - so uniquely "us" - it's impossible to understand the pride we take in them if you're not from our small huddle of islands.

There's the addition of "-Vegas" to the names of towns comprising a small strip and two or more pubs; the warming feeling of a fish'n'chip food baby; and the ability to debate Marmite vs. Vegemite without rationale. There's also the reference of your pint as a "beersie"; understanding how to interpret "yeah, nah"; and complex internalised situations about ghost chips.

Like cassava chips, these are things the rest of the world don't know to be inimitably New Zealand. They're things we can't explain during our homesickness, either: they are as confusing to a foreigner as trying to clarify why a dairy sells more than just stuff from cows.

Upon my return to New Zealand in mid-January, I sat at the front of the plane on my domestic Air New Zealand flight. I was all-but-one-metre away from a flight attendant, who had to merrily, but somewhat sheepishly, announce the snack menu over the intercom whilst trying to hide her "Will my employer EVER get a new snack for me to offer?" face.

"We have two choices for you today," she said, as if the previous day, or the previous year, there had been other options. "The Cookie Time cookie, or the cassava chips."

I smiled when she asked of my choice minutes later, and said with glee, "I know you're so sick of these chips by now.... but you have no idea how at home you've just made me feel."

As such, I can only hope Air New Zealand never gives up its cassava chips, for they're now part of our national identity. They're as reassuring as Judy Bailey, as uplifting as the Shortland Street theme song, and as encouraging as a good bowl of Weet-Bix.

So the next time you're on a flight, don't hesitate on your choice of snack. Unless you're travelling during Koru Hour, of course. Then you'll enjoy something else uniquely Kiwi during your in-flight experience: a happy hour at 30,000 feet (via the patriotic addition of L&P, premium New Zealand beer and wine, and a slice of local cheese).

That's certainly something easyJet doesn't do.