Rhik Samadder and Slissie — A vape by another name that doesn’t smell sweet … Rhik and the Slissie. Photograph: Graeme Robertson/The Guardian

Kitchen gadgets review: Slissie – a way to eat flavoured air to lose weight (finally)

This article is more than 6 years old

This plastic pipe – a vape for food, essentially – is supposed to stop you snacking, but doesn’t; it just makes you look like a monkey eating a lipstick

What?

Slissie, £19.99. Battery-operated atomiser and mouthpiece. Liquid food essence in cartridges is heated until aromatic, then partially inhaled.

Why?

If you can’t smoke a bowl, smoke a banana.

Well?

I wanted an e-cigarette as soon as I saw one. I was intrigued by the flashy lights, but as I was never a smoker to begin with, it seemed silly to start. A Star Wars crack-pipe dream it remained. Until this week, when I discover Slissie: a diet cigarette for those of us too softcore to vape. (“Slissie is not a vape,” says the instruction booklet.) It works in exactly the same way as a vape, but helps suppress cravings for sugary foods. A bit like a vape, in fact, though admittedly it lets you avoid the low-level nicotine associated with e-liquids.

‘You’re meant to suck on Slissie, not actually inhale.’ Photograph: Graeme Robertson/The Guardian

I screw in one of the flavoured tanks – there are nine to choose from, including banana bread, ginger, chocolate orange, mint choc chip and, er, fruit – press the button for four seconds, release for two, inhale. I’m instantly coughing. I picture myself years hence, addicted, stumbling up to dealers, trying to cover my physical disarray. “What you looking for, boy?” they ask with scorn, which the response “mint choc-chip?” does nothing to diminish. I haven’t read the instructions properly – you’re meant to suck on Slissie, not actually inhale, a Clintonian distinction making it kin to the cigar, not the cigarette.

The gadget’s body is spring green, its name written in the kind of cursive script reserved for celebrity perfumes. I like the pop of the atomiser engaging, the crackle as it heats. On the downside, the taste is slightly chemical and short-lived, plus I look like a monkey that has stolen a lipstick and is trying to eat it. Let’s talk turkey: this gadget is not good. Yet I still find myself popping it in my mouth now and then. It addresses a deep and historical personality need to hang out at the back of the bus with the cooler kids. Tragically, I’m into it. A vape by any other name would smell as sweet.

Any downside?

Does semi-eating flavoured air inhibit food cravings? Not really. I ask my friend Amish Tom what he thinks. “It’s shit,” he says. But why? “The banana one made me want to eat foam bananas. Now I’m hungry for foam bananas.”

Counter, drawer, back of the cupboard?

Under the stairs, with the vacuum, because they both suck. 2/5

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