July 12, 2007

THAT'S JUST HOW WE ROLL

Emboldened by the experience of cooking giant tubes of nitrates on a novelty hot dog roller, we decided to test the waters by puting other near-cylindrical foodstuffs to the test.

The next bench test: Twinkies.

That's not entirely accurate. These weren't just Twinkies.



They were Hostess Race Divas Twinkies.

What's the difference, you're probably not asking?



Namely, three hot women in flame-resistent jumpsuits on the back of the box.

It's nice to see Hostess cater to their core audience: lonely guys still living in their mother's basement.



Rhetorical question: Why bother to wrap something that can never go stale?



We were a bit dubious that a Twinkie would work on this apparatus, since it's not a true cylinder. It's more of a tube with flat feet.

We considered shaving the corners off, then reconsidered. After all, why jeopardize the sanctity and purity of this experiment?

Our faith was quickly rewarded when the treat rolled as hoped: like a spongy, cream-filled whale performing a death roll along the shoreline. Albeit one that within seconds started to smear with its own crust.



The Twinkie's holes on the bottom quickly began soiling the rollers with a snail-like trail of cream. At least we hoped it was cream and not some Polysorbate 80 industrial accident.



We took the oozing through its yellow pores as a good sign that it was cooking.



It was at this stage, where it started to look like a snack cake hate crime was taking place, that we started to reconsider our commitment to eating what we had wrought.


Finally, we could take no more. We clearly had crossed the nexis on the graph between the fever line that denotes culinary curiosity and the other that charts "degree of grossness so large we won't eat the damn thing."

We plucked it from the roller and offered it to my colleague and Official Taster Of The Salad, Rommie Johnson, for a sampling.


Rommie unhinged his jaw and let it fly.

The taste, he said, was quite unique.

The exterior had carmelized into a tough, vanilla-flavored crust. Inside, the cream filling had become a liquid magma. Almost like eating a marshmallow from a campfire. Only not nearly as organic tasting.

NEXT TRICK: Baked Potato

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Super Franks

Posted by Jeff at July 12, 2007 10:13 AM | TrackBack
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