I'm munching on shrimp chips as I write this. Both sushi restaurants I've been to serve these, while none of the ones I went to in LA did. This puffy variant doesn't read as Japanese to me, but I suppose when the menu lists pho and panang curry alongside its sushi and sashimi, there really aren't any boundaries. Swedes like to ask me what I think of the Asian food here, and I'm never sure what to say. It's all good? The flavor's a little different, but I don't have the vocabulary to describe it. I'm not a foodie (I know, a rare thing, considering where I'm from), and I don't cook either. Also, I'm less a flavor person and more a texture person. I can tell you if I don't like how the food feels in my mouth, but that's about it. As far as food goes, what's stood out to me most are the things marketed as "American," as in sauces and flavors and such. I have no idea what they are. They're star-spangled red, white, and blue, and I can't help but wonder about their origins. I've started collecting photos of them: Exhibit A. Texas popcorn with salt, since 1959. America's favorite. I tried this (I love popcorn), and it was just lightly salted popcorn. It was okay, certainly not a favorite, and I wouldn't get it again. Exhibit B. Authentic grill USA. Traditional American premium quality spices for allround use. I thought to pick this up just to try, but didn't want to end up with a whole bottle of it. That bottle design is obnoxious. Exhibit C. American dressings for hamburgers and hot dogs in various flavors: original, sriracha, jalapeño, cucumber mayo, and others. Unrelated, but pictured: I don't think I like the idea of squeezable cheddar cheese in a tube. Exhibit D. Rhode Island dressing. I'm pretty sure this has nothing to do with Rhode Island. — Blaugust 5/31