Snarkypalooza

Throughout my 20-odd eating years, I’ve become a devout follower of 2 schools of thought:

1. Everything’s better fried.
2. It’s better with bacon.

These two culinary doctrines are adopted on many a menu, but are most often present at any carnival or street fair, fish ‘n chips shop, and the Midwest. Funnel cakes, corndogs, elephant ears, fried candy bars and oreos … if you’re dropping it into a vat of hot oil, I want it.

I lived in Hell’s Kitchen for a bit when I was still living in NY and over the summer months there was a perpetual street fair going on outside my window. They always had the same vendors — peddling cheap bedsheets that probs fell off the truck, the Asian smoothie stand, weirdo Thai food that was disturbingly cheap, and my favorite … the fried food truck. Here you could get corndogs, french fries, and sometimes (if you were lucky) a bag of fried oreos fresh from the fryer and straight into a brown paper bag followed by a shake ‘n bake treatment of powdered sugar. Fried oreos have been one of the more ridiculous, artery-clogging treats (read: effing amazing) I’ve tried. Think gooey cookies and cream surprise center while biting into a warm powdered donut.

Trust me. OMFG fo realz.

Anyway, so I was in Chicago last weekend for Lollapalooza which is where I stumbled upon: The Fried Twinkie. Obvs this was the bonafide, oil-soaked, trans fat Holy Grail of fried food-dom! Upon 35 seconds of deep reflection re the Fried Twinkie’s effect on future quality of life, it is for you, dear readers, that I decided to buy this $2 chocolate syrup drizzled heart attack.

Transfat Death on a Stick

It looked innocent enough. Although I was expecting it to be dipped in some sort of batter per every other fried delicacy I’ve tried in the past. Basically they skewered that shit, threw it into the fryer for a couple minutes, stuck it in a paper boat and drizzled some Hershey’s syrup on it. Upon first bite I realized that the frying process had turned the spongey Twinkie cake into a crispy outer shell that contained Twinkie cream magma. There was spitting and cursing. It wasn’t pretty.

Holy mouth burnage.

All in all it was a disappointingly mediocre experience. It was missing something (I think batter maybe?), not to mention probably cut a couple of years off my life. I think I’ll stick to the oreos.

PS I think I’m going to a county fair (yay Carnies!) next weekend which I’m sure will provide a plethora of fried food adventures, and lots of meat on a stick.