Judge and Jury: Slim Jim Tabasco Seasoned Giant Slim

As winter comes to a close and spring quickly approaches, I realized something about myself that shook me to the core: I don’t eat salty meat snacks when the temperature dips below 30°. You’re probably thinking, “Well, that’s fucking weird,” but I have a great explanation. And that explanation is gravy.

Skip the roast and spoon delicious meat juice directly into mouth.

Right after my birthday, Thanksgiving hits, and I’m hooked. Goodbye jerky, goodbye snack sticks, and HELLO pork roast. Or beef roast. Or roast chicken. Or one of those tan jars of Heinz gravy if you’re jonesin’ bad and need a fix.

The internet reads me like a book.

So, I’ve been off my game and enjoying meats of a different variety. But then, one day, the sun came out. I went to my local Holiday to get gas and a tasty bev, and lo and behold, there in front of me, shimmering in the sunshine’s light, was a sign advertising, “2/$2 Slim Jim Snack Sticks.” I fell to my knees (okay, it didn’t go that far but I did say, “Oh hell yeah” in my head). I purchased them, and they sat in my car for a week. A WEEK. And then I received a sign from my may-or-may-not-be-dead friend Andy.

This is in no way proves that he is alive. Only that someone has access to his computer.

And so, here we are. Back again and ready to preserve my insides in the interest of salty snacking and freedom.
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**This, and all future reviews, will be HEAVILY influenced by my mood and hunger status at time of review.**

Safety first, boys.

Slim Jim Tabasco Seasoned Giant Slim: 2.75/5

Remember, I’m going on a 5-point scale, with scored determined based on an average of:

• Appearance
• Experience
• Taste
• Texture
• Price (which only really matters when I find it to be a Screamin’ Deal, ©Beth Wogen)

I’ve never been super excited about the prospect of the Tabasco Seasoned Slim Jim. I like Tabasco, and I like Slim Jims, but I’ve never really thought that the combination of the two would complete my snacking life. Tabasco seems to be one of those brands that is willing to lend its logo to any number of suggested partnerships. (See: Tabasco Cheez-Its and Grey Tabasco Lounge Pants). Tabasco Cheez-Its aren’t even that great and, let’s be honest, Tabasco’s offshoots like Chipotle and Green Jalapeño are simply better than the Original. But a beef stick is a beef stick, and it simply must be eaten.

After work, I got down to the task at hand. I nibbled a bit on some ham—as to not be too hungry—at the behest of my cat. That, combined with the Slim Jim, could conceivably combine to create a cohesive meal, right? Opening the stick was a familiar experience that has improved with time. Ever since they gave up on the jagged tear notches at the top and switched to the peel apart packaging, the Slim Jim experience has infinitely improved. Struggling with accessing a beef stick really sticks in my craw, and I end up with feverish meat sweats out of frustration. Extra points to Slim Jim.

Now, Slim Jims, we can all agree, are not the top dog of the beef stick kingdom. They are greasy as all hell, and the lube job left behind is not intended for intimate endeavors. Once you get the stick out, you can see that the package is left slick, and so, too, was the box I took a picture of it on. A beef stick is meant to be a portable stick. If you need a wet nap afterwards, it is not an effectively portable option.

Exhibit A: Grease Stains

As for Tabasco flavor, the Tabasco Seasoned Slim Jim kind of has it. Or at least it took a cue from the “hot sauce” distinction, because I’m not getting much of a Tabasco taste here. There’s an initial kick that gets you, but none of the familiar vinegar pucker that makes Tabasco what it is. The rest of the beef stick itself just tastes like a regular old Slim Jim, and the only thing that sticks in your memory is the lingering spice on your breath that feels like you’re going to pay for it later.

Biting into the stick is exactly what is expected from a Slim Jim. It’s both tough and soft at the same time, and I found myself wanting to chew harder than is necessary. There’s no snap, but there is a noticeable firmness coming from the casing. As you bite into it, the casing doesn’t so much break, but rather allows the beef stick innards to somewhat ooze into your mouth—like soft serve!—until you have no choice but to pinch it off with your teeth. Once you’ve gone this far, you’re just chewing and chewing and chewing while the casing gets stuck in between your teeth, and you can’t be sure if you’re flossing or saving some for later.

No matter how you feel about Slim Jims, the 2/$2 price tag is a certified Screamin’ Deal, and I will almost always, ALWAYS  be swayed by the sweet signage selling discounted sticks.

Overall, I give the Slim Jim Tabasco Seasoned Giant Slim a 2.75/5. It’s certainly not the worst flavored stick available on the market, but if a Slim Jim were to be sent into battle, I wouldn’t send the Tabasco to the frontline.

Why yes, this is the back of a Little Caesars Hot-N-Ready pizza box.

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*Side note: Supposedly-not-dead Andrew and his brother Erik have a podcast. Take a listen and try to determine if Andy is, in fact, alive or if Erik is just extremely gifted at imitation.