Two years worth of Twinkies

Once every two or three years I get a craving for a Twinkie. I think it takes my brain a couple of years to forget how unappealing Twinkies actually taste. On the grocery store rack, they look so tantalizing. The description of “spongy gold cake” always sounds too good to be true. I mean, where else would I ever get something spongy and gold…other than any old yellow cake mix package? They glisten from their package (no doubt from loads of saturated fat that is trying to ooze out of the wrapper), and the little cowboy Twinkie mascot (or is it a banana in disguise?) beckons me to saddle one up in my shopping cart.

So, after a three year absence from the Hostess world, I yielded to my childhood (or pregnancy?) cravings, and grabbed a package of Twinkies in the store today. When I was little, Twinkies were the unattainable treat. Individually wrapped, name brand, processed food…these adjectives denoted contraband products at our house. At 79 cents a package, Twinkies were a luxury that we refused to save our change for. As I stepped up to the checkout counter with my Twinkies, I felt…grown up (to be affording Twinkies), and slightly naughty.

I had been feeling a little sorry for my big, pregnant body, and decided that a little greasing up of my arteries would be the perfect thing to lift my spirits. Unfortunately, splurging on the package of greasy Twinkies gave my wallet a little lift as well, as the unbelievable childhood price of 79 cents had sometime in the last 15 years met inflation, and rose to a ridiculous 1.19 plus tax. That’s sixty cents a Twinkie! But I had already crossed the Rubicon. Twinkie in hand, I pulled out my wallet, deliberately ignoring the nutrition facts on the back of the package that were slightly blurred from grease.

On my way out the door of the store, I ripped open the package, and broke off a chunk of that “spongy golden cake.” It was spongy and golden. I popped it in. It was also dry and greasy (how in the world do they manage that?). My taste buds recoiled in disapproval. I tried another bite to make sure it wasn’t just the edge. It wasn’t. There went 30 cents, and probably 30g of fat. The “creamy filling” was no less disappointing.

Now the big question was, should I keep eating it? I suddenly felt embarrassed to be holding a Twinkie package. I looked around to see if I recognized anyone that might tattle on my Twinkie affair. I heard quick footsteps behind me. I slowed to let the speed walker pass me, so I could continue deliberations about grease-binging in relative peace.

My stalker turned out to be a very, very, very friendly little redheaded college freshman who wanted to chat. We made small talk; all the while I was very aware of the half eaten Twinkie package I clutched in one hand, and my greasy fingers on the other. When we reached the end of the interminable sidewalk, and we were to part ways, she stuck out her hand for a shake. I stood, frozen, for a second. Should I just shake her hand boldly, and hope she didn’t notice the sticky greasy residue that would inevitably exchange hands? Stammering a little, I told her my fingers were dirty. She gave me a big smile (as if to say “I ate a Twinkie a few years ago, too. I know just what you mean.”) and squeezed my (now flabbier) upper arm, and flounced off. Once I was hidden away in my car, I quickly downed the second Twinkie without enjoying it. A little bit of the creamy filling got on the steering wheel.

I am writing this post in hopes of extending my regular 2-3 years of Twinkie abstinence to 2-3 decades. Twinkies constitute a serious violation of the “caloric waste” principle (If a food item is not good, don’t waste calories by disposing of it in your stomach; use the trashcan!) If you’re REALLY dying for the spongy golden cake with creamy filling, I’m pretty sure that making a golden cake mix in a jelly roll pan, and rolling it up with marshmallow crème, then dipping the finished product in a cup or two of butter will yield about the same results, for probably around the same price, and about the same amount of satisfaction. At least if you make your own, you can binge on them in the privacy of your own kitchen, and you’ll probably have a roll of paper towels around to mop up the grease before someone wants to shake your hand.