It’s just me holding a plate of deep fried Twinkies.
Deep fried Twinkies make me gleeful. Very, very gleeful.
These were prepared by my 16-year old neighbor Brian, a preternaturally gifted young chef who comes from a long line of fabulous cooks from across the road. (Seriously, my neighbors the Watkins know cooking like Johnny Cash knew guitar chords.) He’s the kind of kid who already wins cooking competitions and is currently campaigning to become president of a national youth culinary association. Tom Colicchio will probably be bussing his tables one of these years.
Anyway, he come over last night during my intimate gathering of friends to indulge my request for lowbrow dessert: deep fried mini Mounds bars, 3 Musketeers and Snickers before showcasing his masterpiece, deep fried les Twinkies.
To deep fry desserts right, I was told to spear each treat on a skewer then freeze it that morning to prevent it from falling apart once it hits the hot oil (this also helps hold the skewer in place). I have also come to understand that superior deep frying depends upon a superior batter, and Brian’s is a (closely guarded?) Watkins family secret.
Sure enough, the Twinkie’s fried outer layer was light and crisp, and the cream-filled middle had melted into the outlying sponge cake, so each bite was crisp and creamy as opposed to merely cake-y.
They were so delicious I thought some of my guests required a moment of silence upon eating them.
All original content © 2012 by Jessie Knadler