"If birds can glide for long periods of time, then... why can't I?"
French-friend potatoes, too soggy and not crispy enough!, were sent back to George Crum. Screw you, Crum thought. He was a Native American/African American chef working in Saratoga, NY in 1853. And in his mind, little known, societally worthless, depressed; no formal culinary background—you've heard it before. Nothing to lose, and in a sarcastic response to Cornelius Vanderbilt, Crum thinly sliced potatoes, fried them until extremely crisp, and (generously) salted them. He called it the potato chip.