The Trifecta

Several years ago, I headed to southern Kentucky for an overnight kayaking trip. We arrived early and amused ourselves by walking around the street fair in the small town. One booth offered fried, Twinkies, Oreos and Snicker bars. I had heard about dipping the Twinkies into the hot fat, but not the others. I hadn’t tried any, but this seemed to be an omen.

I ordered up a Twinkie. It approximated the weight of a Buick. Nonetheless, I can eat about anything and accepted the challenge. Two small bites did me in. The paddler riding shotgun with me stepped up to the plate and didn’t get any further.

A local kid was watching all this and asked if he could have it. I pondered if that would constitute child abuse, but consented. He scarfed it down in about the time it would take to read this sentence. I hope he’s still alive.

I forgot about this until I was taken to dinner this past weekend. It was a fairly elegant place so I was a bit surprised to find Oreo doughnuts on the dessert menu. I asked about it. The waitress said they wrap the dough around the cookie and then fry it. Ah hah! The vaunted fried Oreo.

I rose to the occasion and ordered it up. The serving was a quartet and could not be dispatched in one sitting. It took days, but the mission was accomplished.

Now, all I need is the Snickers bar.