Decoding the inherent goodness of Twinkies

Eating has been a part of my life well, since I was first a life form. I like eating. I like cooking. I like eating. I like going to restaurants. I like eating. I like all sorts of stuff. Uhmm — I don’t like beets.
Let me say, I am also an individual who likes to stay happily — nay, blissfully — clueless when it comes to food. The things I like to know before digging in are:
A. Does it taste good?
B. Are there beets in it?
C. Does it taste good?
I am a simple guy.
Whether or not the plate of food served looks good usually isn’t a big deal. As a matter of fact, it is okay for all the stuff on my plate to touch all the other stuff on my plate. It’s my opinion, that my culinary experience is only enhanced when all the flavors on my plate collide on my tongue.
What can I say, I like to mix. I mix leftovers together for lunch. When I go to the restaurant — no disrespect to the chef — I mix whatever is put in front of me. So, it’s not so much of what’s in there, it’s more of it’s there, so why not mix? It’s gonna? get all mixed sooner or later, might as well get it over with and make it sooner.
It is unassailable logic, so don’t try to argue.
* * *
A few years ago when Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC for the hip cats) introduced their ‘Famous Bowls,? I was agog. I remember thinking to myself, ‘That looks like some g-o-o-o-d eatin? there.? Then I thought, ‘Damn, why didn’t I market that first!?
I still recall when KFC started airing commercials for their wondrous concoction with ‘layers of flavors,? smashed ‘taters, corn, fried chicken, gravy and cheese all served together. Dear wife Jen had to turn away in disgust. I’ll say it, she was grossed out and said as much to me.
I, being the polite husband, nodded and smiled in agreement (all the while keeping my cravings for that bowl of goodness secret).
What I am getting at is, basically, as long as the food on my plate is not looking back at me, and does not contain beets, I’m gonna? eat it. I don’t look at the labels to see what’s in there. It tastes good. I eat it. For the record, I will not be watching any episode of the cable TV show, Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern. Current commercials for this show, show plates full of brains, a huge green frog, cut in half with his head and front legs setting upright and Zimmern eating some slimy, longish, wormlike critters.
I never said I was a refined, world-wise individual. I will sleep good at night knowing I am a spoiled American, who lets the butcher butch and buys meat prepackaged. There is a reason I don’t think about certain things and it’s same reason I don’t read labels. I do not want to know.
So, it was with dismay I read the following on-line article, headlined:
Decoding the 39 ingredients in Twinkies
* * *
That ain’t right! Twinkies were never intended to be analyzed. They were made to be consumed, period. Now, I could have clicked away from the story, but that would be too coward-like. So, with trepidation, I read on . . . sadness ensued.
And, I quote, ‘As Steve Ettlinger dropped down a Wyoming mine shaft, plummeting 1,600 feet in an open-mesh cage, he wondered how many other food writers had ever donned hard hats and emergency breathing equipment in pursuit of a story. But it was too late to turn back. He’d promised his editor a book tracing the ingredients in a Hostess Twinkie to their origins’and one of them was down this shaft. At the bottom, he and his hosts climbed into an open Jeep and hurtled for 30 terrifying minutes through pitch-black tunnels. Their destination: the site where a mineral called trona’the raw ingredient of baking soda’was being clawed out of a rock face by giant machines. ‘To say that this does not suggest Twinkies or any other food product would be an understatement,? observes Ettlinger. ‘There you are at an open rock face, wondering why they do all this for the sake of a little snack cake.??
It didn’t get any better later in the story — so I won’t share the gory details with you. If you must know, I am sure you can figure out how to find the article.
My point is, is nothing sacred anymore?
Soon we’ll find out there really isn’t a Santa Claus and that Democrats really don’t care about people, only about being reelected just like Republicans.
One more thing: curiosity killed the cat and the joy of eating Twinkies.
E-mail Don: dontrushmedon@charter.net

Comments are closed.